Long Schlong Silver

by Kade, Teagan

  “You love what?”

  “Your cock… in my ass.”

  “You want it, don’t you? You want my cum.”

  “Yes,” the words are flowing freely from my mouth, but I’m not thinking of them, only of the satisfaction filling the space between my legs. “Give it to me,” I continue. “Give me your cum.”

  He cries out, spanking me as hard as he can muster between thrusts, his cock surely about to protrude from my body as it reaches deep inside me, my buttocks on fire as he rains down blows upon them.

  Something long and hard is being inserted into my pussy below. It slides in just below his member. The feeling of being stuffed in both holes, filled by this strange object and Bobby’s cock spearing into my ass above is too much to take.

  I come, screaming into the ground, a line of drool leaking from my mouth as my ass and pussy pulse in unison around his member and the foreigner below. The world spins away from me. It feels like my spine might snap from the force of my climax. My nipples stab into the cold ground below. I cry and wail. I confess.

  Bobby wails himself, thrusting forward and grasping a handful of my hair, lifting my head into the air as he explodes inside my ass.

  I barely have time to comprehend it before another orgasm overlaps the first, breaking through my body. The foreign object in my sex slips free, Bobby’s cock leaving my ass a tunneled bore hole above.

  I collapse sideways onto the ground, warm arousal running between my legs, completely satisfied.

  I quiver and jerk there, legs kicking freely and head lost in pure pleasure.

  My buttocks are pulsing, bruised. My pussy and ass feel a mile wide.

  Time passes in slow motion. I barely even register I’m being pulled to my feet.

  My blindfold is pulled free and Bobby stands before me breathing hard. We are in a garage of some sort, fishing gear strewn around the place.

  “You okay?” Bobby asks. “I got lost in the moment there a bit, didn’t mean to come on so-”

  I lay my head against his chest, his heart hammering against it. “Shh, it was wonderful, truly. I don’t think I’m going to be able to walk tomorrow,” I laugh, “but thank you.” I look around. “Where are we, by the way?”

  Bobby follows my eyes around the room. “Garage, next to the Gas & Tackle.”

  “You think Bart heard us?”

  Bobby laughs, working at the bonds around my hands. “I sure as hell hope so.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  BOBBY

  I leave Gisele in bed and make my way to the kitchen, instinctively reaching for the closest bottle on hand and pouring myself a glass. I take a seat in the recliner and drink, my morning need satiated… at least until the next glass.

  I look over my shoulder at the outline of Gisele, the almost soundless way she sleeps perfectly content with the world, even though her professional world may well be falling apart.

  That’s your fault, big guy, I tell myself, shifting to stare up at my old jersey on the wall—also instinctive whenever these kind of thoughts crash into my head.

  What was I supposed to do? Let her simply take the land titles and kick heel out of here? I could have, I suppose. They didn’t mean much to me a week ago, but now I know the truth…

  I ease back in the recliner and stare at the empty tumbler in my hand thirsting for more, something to take the edge off the start of the day, to face it again—a task that has, all told, become a hell of a lot easier with Gisele around.

  I get up and pour, sit, drink, repeat until half the bottle is gone and my head’s wonderfully numb and not the skull-shaking jack hammer it was earlier.

  “Drinking half a bottle of whiskey is not a great hangover cure, you know.”

  In my shock I let go of the glass. It falls to the carpet. “Shit,” I stammer, sweeping it up before the whiskey starts to spread, but my reflexes aren’t exactly razor sharp.

  I stand and face her. She’s in the doorway, naked, leaning against it and looking like an angel born to torture my cock for all eternity. “I didn’t know you were up.”

  “I was watching, for a while, which is yes, admittedly kind of creepy.”

  “You’re okay, after…?” I recall the shed, the rough sex, but what happened after we got back to Roxanne is a bit of a blur.

  Her smile puts me at ease. “A little sore, in the right kind of way, but I appreciate your,” she pauses, searching for the word, “cooperation. It was everything I hoped for.”

  She walks forward and pushes me back into the recliner, sitting on my lap with her arms around my neck. “I care about you. You get that, right?”

  “Sure,” I reply, unsure where she’s leading.

  She takes the tumbler from my hand, placing it down onto the carpet. “I think you know what I’m getting at.”

  “The drinking?” I laugh. “I’ve got a handle on it. Don’t worry.”

  “First thing in the morning and you’ve downed half a bottle… by yourself. What does that sound like to you?”

  “When you put it that way, but…”

  Her finger is on my lips again. “I get it, but consider, really think about how much you actually drink day-in, day-out.”

  I tug her closer. “I don’t recall you going easy last night.”

  “But do you see me drinking now? Do you see me reaching for the kitchen cupboard first thing when I walk in here?”

  “I know you’re just trying to help, but really, I’m fine.”

  She looks up, shaking her head and smiling. “Guys. Why do you all have to be so damned stubborn?”

  “What do you suggest I do? Cut it out, start drinking tea instead, a bit of chai and Earl Grey, side of kale and ketones?”

  “See, you’re deflecting. You’ve got a problem. Admit it.”

  “I like a drink. Everyone around here does.” I motion to the sink. “Turn the tap over there and I’m pretty sure whiskey would come out.”

  She ignores me, but holds my eyes. As much as I want to look away, I’m spellbound as usual. “There’s this community hall next to the motel. You know it?”

  “Sure,” I nod, “but the weekly bingo night doesn’t strike me as your kind of gig.”

  “They host Alcoholics Anonymous meetings there, once a week—tonight, in fact.”

  I push my arms out, standing and pacing into the middle of the lounge. “Come on now. I’m not that fucking bad.”

  “Said every alcoholic ever.”

  I recall my father and his myriad of excuses, an almost constant stream of bullshit that ran from his mouth. “I don’t need AA.”

  She approaches me, her body twisting my thoughts in a different, far more sexual orientation. “I want you to go and I want you do it for me, if not for yourself. We can go together, make a date of it.”

  “A date?” I laugh. “A trip down to the local cemetery would be livelier.”

  “That’s just it,” she says, pulling up against me and my growing hardness. “I don’t want to see you in an early grave. I care too much about you for that, and I know where this is going to lead if you don’t do something to intervene now.”

  She reaches up to kiss me, doe eyes fucking me up from the inside out. “For me? Please?”

  My willpower’s breaking under her power. “I don’t know…”

  “You said you wanted to fix your life, to grab those fucking reins and pull it back in, right? You told me that.”

  “I did,” I mutter.

  “So wouldn’t this be a step in the right direction? We go, it’s not for you, fine, but it’s a step, isn’t it? Isn’t it worth trying?”

  She reaches between us and finds my cock, stroking it from the bottom to the top, fingers lightly brushing over my balls on their way back down. “Maybe I could make it worth your while.”

  “You’re evil,” I tell her.

  She smiles. “Only when I’m sick of being good.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  GISELE

  The lights are on inside Roxann
e when I pull the truck up, the high beams lighting up her façade. I know Gisele’s in there, waiting anxiously to hear how I went. It would have been easy to skip the meeting, hit the bar instead, and I wanted to, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it, to let her down.

  In truth, it wasn’t anything like I thought it would be—a sad collection of losers chanting from a book and drinking stale coffee. The coffee was fucking delicious, actually, a spread of homemade biscuits and cakes that would have made my mother proud. The meeting itself was awkward at first, especially looking around and seeing familiar faces, but the moment I said the words, the moment I admitted what I was, the lodestone I’d been carrying, another, was lifted away. I skipped out of that meeting a hundred pounds lighter and ready to take on the world anew. Weird, I know.

  Gisele’s standing by the kitchen counter when I enter. She’s in one of my robes and has managed to collect every bottle of liquor in the entire place, even the five bottles of Jack I kept in the old hidey-hole under the floor. I put my keys down. “Think you got them all?”

  “How’d it go?”

  “Great,” I reply, leaning against the counter. “Seriously. It was, ah, not what I expected.”

  Her smile is genuine and all-encompassing, the safety blanket that tells me it will all be okay, that I can I allow myself to become vulnerable, to strip myself back for the world to see. “I’m glad. You going to help me get rid of this stuff?”

  I eye the collection of bottles. “There’s a lot of liquor there.” The urge to stop her rises, but I force it away with a power that didn’t seem there this morning.

  She takes the first bottle and spins off the lid, tipping it into the sink. It glug-glugs away. With her free hand she reaches down to the robe belt and undoes the knot there. It opens to reveal the sexiest set of lingerie I’ve seen in my life, black and lacy and so intricate it’s like a spider’s web of sexuality begging to be swept free.

  “Are those panties crotch-less, Ms. Cole?” I ask.

  She glances to the bottles. “The sooner we get through this, the sooner you find out.”

  It’s with some trepidation I take the first bottle and tip it over, watching the amber liquid drain away and with it the possibility of another night spent half-drunk and half-numb to the past.

  “I’m proud of you,” Gisele says beside me, taking my arm and placing her head on my shoulder.

  “I know,” I reply. “I know.”

  *

  The Cove’s rowdier than usual tonight. Birds cross the sky squawking and calling. Even the water itself seems to be in a constant state of movement. In the clouds ahead lightning explodes from within, the thunder following as a distant rumble.

  Still, it’s beautiful. Moonlight, mercurial, sits on the surface of the water as it pops out between the clouds.

  “They say there’s a bit of a front coming,” says Bobby, sitting beside me on the bow. Been causing havoc over in Tallum County.”

  “How’s the cider?” I ask.

  Bobby holds up the brown glass bottle, examining its contents. “For a non-alcoholic beverage, it ain’t so bad. Sugary sweet just like something else I know.”

  I roll my eyes. “It’s not going to be easy, you know. You’re not going to wake up and the urge will magically be gone.”

  “Don’t imagine it will be, but if I get a homecoming like that every time I go out a meeting, sign me up for the whole damn dozen.”

  There’s another boom of thunder from beyond, more clouds appearing to gather out there in the nether. The cloud looks unnatural, as if a Lovecraftian monster was to emerge from within.

  “What now?” I ask, leaving the question open-ended.

  “If you’re referring to the immediate, I don’t think a dip’s in order given my balls are still smarting from the Jedi death grip you gave them the other day, but I’m happy to jump in the back, get down to business.” He sniffs in the air. “Something about a coming storm, smell of ozone in the air, danger, mystery… Good thing you’ve got me to protect you.”

  “From the big, bad storm,” I pout, “because I totally can’t handle myself.”

  Bobby takes another sip of his non-alcoholic cider. “No offense intended. I think we both know you can handle yourself just fine.”

  “How did you get into it?” he asks off-hand.

  “Handling myself?”

  He waves his hand around. “The whole personal-shopping-assistant-for-the-rich-and-famous gig?”

  “We’re talking that kind of business now, are we?”

  He nods. “I’m just curious. I can’t imagine it just fell from the sky.”

  I roll my cider bottle from hand to hand. It’s still cold from the cooler, the tart taste of apple in my mouth. “I was working as a paralegal for a firm in the city. One day I heard one of the partners complaining about how he couldn’t find this particular cake anywhere in the city, this crazy strawberry watermelon thing that was going viral.”

  “Sounds god damn delicious.”

  “It is. Anyhow, wanting to impress, I offered to find it. He said it couldn’t be done, but I wasn’t going to fail. I found it alright, after a dodgy trip through the seedier parts of the city, an underground game of backgammon, and three Benjamins, but I did it. He was impressed, said he had a friend who was looking for something—something else ‘hard to find’.”

  “And it spiraled from there?”

  “Next thing I knew I was hunting these insane things down, bussing around in jets, sipping on Moet, and thinking I was the bee’s knees. And I was good at it, like really good at it.”

  “But you couldn’t convince a hillbilly to part with his precious houseboat?”

  I know he’s joking, but it still burns. “I could have, given more time.”

  “Oh, really?”

  I place the cider down and roll over onto him, straddling his chest. “You would have broken eventually. You pretty boys always do.” I grind myself down on him a little more to make my point.

  “And you’re still trying to convince me you never used your, ahem, assets, to speed things up?”

  “Says the community gigolo.”

  “Hey, hey,” he protests, “like I said, no money was ever exchanged. It was a pro-bono service.”

  “Emphasis on the ‘bono,’ I bet.”

  “Emphasis on the pro, actually.”

  I slap my hands together. “Case closed, it would seem.”

  He grabs me around the waist and rolls me over, a flash of lightning behind his head. “The case is closed when I say it’s closed.”

  “Is that a fact, Mr. Silver?”

  He starts to grind back against me. “Signed, sealed, and delivered, Ms. Cole.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  BOBBY

  “Do you think the situation with Knowles has calmed down?”

  That was the name Bart dug on—Victor Knowles, billionaire.

  Our make-out session was short-lived, a crack of thunder so loud it sent Gisele rocketing off me like a squirrel with a cherry bomb up its ass.

  Her entire body tightens beside me. “In truth, not a chance in hell.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  She gives a stunted laugh. “You know, I have no damn idea, and that is a very strange feeling for me.”

  I place my hand on her thigh and let it slide down between her legs, lightly rubbing at the crotch of her jeans. “Because you like to be in control? I think we’ve established that already—at least in your professional life,” I note, considering what happened back at the shack, the way she begged to be dominated.

  “Two people who like to be in control is a recipe for disaster, you do realize.”

  Her legs spread the tiniest further bit apart. I don’t even know if she’s aware of it. “I think we’re quite the power couple, actually, destined to do great things.”

  But I can see her thoughts are still with Knowles, with the disaster unfolding in her professional life.

  I stand and start to strip.
>
  She sits up. “What are you doing?”

  I pull off my T-shirt and toss it back into the boat, kicking off my shoes and reaching for my belt as a bolt of lightning fizzles across the sky. “Solving world hunger. What does it look like?”

  I pull my jeans and underwear down together at the precise time she reaches up to slap my ass. “Wise-ass.”

  I step out and stretch to the sky, puffing my chest out. “You going to join?”

  “Like hell.”

  I shrug. “Suit yourself,” I say, diving into the water.

  It’s fairly humid out, but fuck me, it’s a lot colder than I was expecting. Still, I come up acting refreshed, running my hands over my head. “Whoo-boy, that’s what I’m talking about.”

  Gisele’s on her knees at the front of the bow. “You’re just a giant kid, aren’t you? I was half-expecting a Transformers quilt and a poster of a Testarossa on your bedroom wall.”

  I tread water, kicking my legs below, silt rising around me. “Why grow up?”

  Thunder rumbles, growing louder.

  “Oh, I don’t know. To become an adult, do adult things?”

  “What we’ve been doing hasn’t been adult enough for you?”

  She smiles, tilting her head.

  I swim over to the bow, reaching my hand up. “Alright, I’m done. It’s colder than I thought.” I let my teeth chatter a bit to seal the story. “Help me up.”

  With a humpf she reaches down and grabs my hand. The second she does I pull her into the water.

  Payback is a bitch.

  She lands with a splash, rising instantly and flapping about screaming. “You. Are. So,” bobbing back under, “dead. So fucking dead.” She spits. She goes to paddle for me, but I manage to swim away giving her a nice view of my pale ass in the process.

  She slaps the water with both hands. “You know how much this blouse is worth?”

  I swim over to her, grabbing her swatting hands and placing them around my neck. “I don’t know about the blouse, but the look on your face was…”

  “…Priceless,” she finishes. “But you’re right about one thing.”

  I lean in for the kiss.

  “It’s cold as fuck in here.”