Quickies: A Collection of Short Fantasies

by Abigail Grey

  He watched her deliver a cross and follow with a shoulder check. She fought dirty, employing her knees, feet, elbows, any limb that would lead to doing damage. Jake rested his arms on the desk and leaned forward.

  He wondered what it would be like, thanks to Maxwell. He imagined walking over to her, asking where she had trained. The sweat was starting to show through the tight tank top she wore, so he thought she would answer slightly out of breath. He would compliment her trainer, admiring her technique. She would snap back, he thought, encouraging him to leave her to her workout. Jake smiled as he thought he could interrupt and offer a more lively workout.

  He could see entering the ring with her. It might be tough for him to find gloves small enough for her delicate hands. He would slide his hands into his own well-worn gloves. With the temptation of such an event, the other gym rats would be available to help with ties and refereeing.

  She would stand still, he predicted. Most fighters naturally bounce in their corners, ingrained by the movies and training they endure. She, though, fought more like a martial artist than a boxer, leading him to think she would continue the slow, smooth glide he witnessed in her at the bag.

  They would circle. No, he thought, she wouldn't wait for him to gather himself. She would launch in to strike him somewhere vulnerable. She might take him unaware if she had the speed to pull it off. He knew his advantage would be his size and reach, but she had the speed to avoid him. He would need to gauge her exactly right, try to bring her close for a good hit. So he would leave an opening consistently, like a flaw in his frame. She would take the bait if he could make it convincing enough. When she darted in with a little fist, he would need to be quick to close her in. An arm around her waist and one around her neck, he was sure he could lock her down. He wondered how hard she would fight to get out of it. Would she try to kick him? Would she drop, giving him nothing but dead weight to hold? Did she have the moves of a martial artist to be able to leverage his grip into something she could use to her advantage?

  He imagined her escaping his grip, thanks to his clumsy gloves being unable to grip her small shoulder. She wouldn't fall for it again, but he deduced that the minor victory for him would infuriate her. They would trade blows, an unspoken agreement passing between them to fight dirty, but not too dirty. Jake would glance a glove off her cheek, but her response would be to drive a knee into his thigh. Both of them would be reminding the other of the holes in their guard before she would step in close, planting her foot behind his to hip throw him to the ground. His hand would catch her before he fell, bringing her down with him. A quick scuffle would end with him over her, her knee in his chest and his hips pressing her down.

  Jake took a deep breath, reining his thoughts in. The sweat on his brow wasn't suspicious in the heat, but he still swiped at it guiltily. His eyes drifted about the room before landing on her. Her blows were slowing, her shoulders heaving. She stopped, standing still and staring at the bag for a moment before gathering her towel and water. She stalked toward the locker room, her arms hanging loose at her sides and her eyes on the floor.

  As she neared the desk, a loud clang sounded from the free weights behind him. Her eyes met Jake's, startled. They stared at each other for a moment. Jake gaped at the tears that filled her eyes, pouring down her cheeks. He realized that her spine straightened and her indrawn breath was designed to stifle the tears as she walked into the locker room.

  Adventures with Steph

  I never know what to expect with Steph. On one occasion, she might greet me at my door, purse at the ready, dressed like any girl ready for a "Hubby's home with the kids" day out. The next time she calls, we'll get the kids together and just talk over coffee amidst the yells and crashes from the toy room.

  But the other days- those are why I can never get enough of Steph.

  On our last girls' night out, I took her into the role of confidant, a new one for the both of us. I had so few female friends, and she so few married ones, that our friendship solidified one night at a noisy club.

  "I'm so sick of the routine!" I moaned to her. He says 'suck me', then a few dates later 'oh, God, I'm going to cum fucking you', rounding out with 'can I fuck your ass'? Then wash, rinse and repeat!"

  Steph's expression was thoughtful, but she didn't respond to my partially rhetorical rant that night.

  Her answer came a couple weeks later, this time for a girls night in. Hours into it, I was so loosened by margaritas and squeal-worthy chick flicks that our husbands would have whined through that her question didn't register to me right away. "Wait, what?" I giggled.

  "I asked you how my little cupcake was doing today." Steph's face was calm, showing none of the flushed giddiness mine must have.

  I blinked rapidly, not understanding. "I-um-I don't know", I responded, still giggling a little with my alcohol-infused fogginess.

  The next moments happened slowly in my blurry mind, but I found myself helpless to change their occurring. Steph had me laid on her coffee table, wrists cuffed to the legs, with my shirt and bra cut open before I uttered a word of protest. As my mouth hung open in surprise, she placed a candle- like one might find on a birthday cake- between my lips with the short command, "Close." My lips closed without a thought.

  Steph rose from her place on the couch, pacing before me. "Dee, honey, I thought a lot about what you said those few weeks ago. And I can fix it. I can give you what you want, break things out of the routine. But you have to be okay with it." She paused and looked at me. "Are you?" At my slow nod, she flinched. "There's more.

  "I need you to trust me. Big time. Because there are things I would like to do to you that are- well, a bit different, and I'm not the type to let you say no once we start it. So, you have to trust me that you'll like what I do, even if you don't at first?"

  Her expression was so hopeful, so devastating, naked and vulnerable. I couldn't help but nod. Her answering squeal of happiness made me smile, even as she straddled me, a wicked look in her eyes.

  "Then let's get started, cupcake." She leaned over me, unlocking the handcuffs and leading me into their kitchen.

  On the counter near the dining room table, I saw several mixing bowls, ingredients, and utensils. Their presence was curious to me, but I had little time to think about it. Steph circled the table opposite me, gripping my ponytail to yank me backward to bend over the top of it. My arms once again were cuffed down to the table legs, leaving my body stretched out on the table.

  I heard her grab a mixing bowl off the counter. After a few passes of a spatula through the contents, Steph began filling a pastry bag.

  "So, I was on a bit of a baking kick, having to make cupcakes for that bake sale at school. And I realized, with all those teeny, tiny cupcakes, I never got to eat a single one." Steph twisted the bag closed, a piping fixture fitted to the end. "So I decided I wanted my own personal little cupcake to eat." As if to punctuate her statement, she pushed the end of the piping bag straight into my pussy.

  The shock hit me so hard I gasped, my body bowing upward, the candle dropping from my mouth onto the floor. I felt her squeeze, forcing the sugary concoction of frosting deep into me. She released the pressure, leaving the bag hanging. The spatula in the bowl was retrieved, painting my tits with the cotton-candy pink frosting. The thin layer she left had covered my breasts entirely. She then reached for the box of birthday candles. She pressed them into the layer of frosting, patiently waiting for each to dry enough to remain in position. My pussy spasmed at the feeling of her hot breath on my tits, each convulsion squeezing the bag inside me.

  I saw the flash of a camera and saw the screen of her laptop light up with the image of two tits, expertly frosted and topped like an adult-themed birthday cake.

  As I was preoccupied with the image, my brain registered the sound of a lighter. My eyes flew back to my decorated chest, to see her lighting the candles. I could see the first candle start to drip as she lit the last one.

  Steph stood back, arms crossed
over her chest. "Make a wish, Dee. Blow them out."

  I blew as hard as I could, most of them going out, but my stomach twisted as I saw them sparking and re-lighting. It was then that I realized my experiences with Steph could be much more sadistic than I imagined.

  Steph squeezed the pastry bag into me a last time before extracting the tip from my pussy. The frosting had an odd feeling inside me, not liquid, and not solid. As I squirmed with the feeling, I felt Steph attaching my legs to the legs of the table as well. I noticed the candles each beginning to drip faster as they burned down, closer to my tits. I could see the heat beginning to dry the frosting out, baking the sugar into a solid crust.

  A hard smack landed on my spread open, frosting-filled pussy. My shout of surprise was met with another slap. I stared, wide-eyed at Steph as she wielded the spatula. She calmly watched the change in my expression as her arm descended again to deliver a stinging slap with the rubber spatula. I cried out again, fighting against my bonds now with each spank.

  My body squirming began to make the candles sputter and the wax spread. I felt a few drops, barely feeling their warmth through the layer of hardened frosting. Steph calmly reached down, extinguishing the candles that were nearest to burning me, without pausing her spanking on my bare pussy. It continued, on and on, an evenly timed spanking on my cunt.

  Once she extinguished the last candle, the spanking stopped and she tugged my body up further on the table until my head hung backward over the edge. I was presented with her naked pussy, which she placed over my mouth, her expectation clear. My mouth busied quickly, my tongue lapping at her clit and thrusting into her wet hole.

  Her moans escalated quickly, her hips rocking to force her cunt more fully on my face. She leaned over my body and I felt the cold marble rolling pin at the entrance to my sugar-coated cunt. She pressed it in as my tongue rocked on her clit. I moaned under the pressure, feeling the cold, unlubricated pole trying to split me open.

  "Oh, take it, cupcake. We have to get you nice and open for the rest of the frosting." Steph's voice showed the strain of trying to pull the rolling pin into me from her position over my face. She pulled on it in forceful jerking motions. I squealed into her pussy as I felt it battering at the sensitive tissues of my insides. My tongue drove deep inside her, my lips sealing and sucking at as much of her cunt as was possible.

  I felt her whole body shudder as she orgasmed, her pussy pressing down hard on my face. My mouth was flooded with the juices her cunt expelled. As she caught her breath, she lifted herself off my lips and walked around the table to push harder on the rolling pin she seemed determined to force completely into my pussy. I whimpered with the pressure as she bore down on one end. I collected a deep breath, nearly ready to scream when she pulled it out. She fucked me with it then, twisting and swirling it, stretching my hole open. The smoothness of it left little friction, leaving me frustrated with the need to cum and no additional stimulant to enhance it. I once again felt the pastry bag inside me, filling the new space opened by the deep fucking of the rolling pin. With my head hanging backward, I wondered her next move. I felt a thin plastic tube at the entrance of my ass.

  Moaning, I began to buck, trying to wiggle away. I was rewarded with another smack on my already sore pussy.

  "Stop that, cupcake", Steph commanded. "We have to oil you in preparation for baking." At her words, the tube entered my ass with a flood of slick oil. Steph held up the rolling pin again, maneuvering to show me the pink streaks of frosting coating it. "I think this will be perfect for tenderizing the dough for my little cupcake, don't you?"

  My eyes went wide and my mouth open to resist, or scream, or something. Steph reached over and neatly fit her kitchen timer behind my front teeth. My noises, muffled by my inability to enunciate anything, deteriorated to panicked whimpers as she began to twist the rolling pin against my oiled ass.

  I felt it break into my tight hole. I moaned, long and low. She pushed hard, twisting it in the slick oil as it pressed deeper and deeper.

  I nearly cried as I felt the pain of it going so deep, but my brain seemed to rewire as I felt Steph's tongue licking at my still frosting-stuffed cunt.

  "Push it out, cupcake", she demanded as her lips sucked at my pussy. "Push that frosting out so I can eat it all up."

  I sighed in pleasure each time her tongue teased over my clit, bearing down to squeeze the frosting out of me.

  I should think things through better with Steph, because each time I bore down, I had to let up, which allowed the rolling pin to slide a partial inch further into my stretched out ass, wringing whimpers from me. Steph sucked at my clit each time I bore down, sending me higher and closer to cumming.

  Finally, I felt her fingertips as my ass closed around the rolling pin and she devoured my cunt, bringing me to a furious orgasm. My cunt and ass clenched, feeling full as my pussy continued to drip sugary frosting. Steph dragged her fingers through my pussy lips, bringing a handful of my cum and frosting mixture to my face. "What a good little cupcake you are", she said, feeding the mix into my mouth behind the timer as it started to beep.

  The next time Steph called me, I could hardly contain my excitement. I spent hours getting ready to visit her, shaving my legs, putting on a touch of makeup, and taking care while I dressed. With the kids at school, we had all day.

  As I pulled into Steph's driveway, I saw her press a kiss to her husband's cheek and come down the walk. She climbed in to the passenger side and smiled. "On to the mall, right?"

  I felt my smile falter a little, but then shrugged. "Sounds good." And we had a perfectly lovely day.

  A few days later, Steph called again. I took care with my appearance once again, wearing something that I thought flattered me. This time, she met me at her door with a cup of coffee and the sound of preschool TV coming from inside. I sighed, nodded resignedly, and kept her company through the play date.

  The day after this one, our house erupted. My son broke an arm, my daughter in trouble at school, my husband working overtime and my mother came to visit. By the end of the week, I was ragged. Steph was still there, coming for coffee once and trying to get me out of the house for some relaxation time, but in the following week, it never worked out.

  Finally, on a school holiday, she called and invited me and the family over. Piling in the car, I closed my eyes against the dull roar coming from the backseat. We arrived, the kids still squabbling all the way up to the door. I knocked.

  The door flew open, Steph's kids nearly running me down as they ran out to tackle my little monsters. Steph's husband kissed her, cooler and stroller in hand. He greeted my husband, loading everyone in the car with such speed and efficiency that I realized it had all been arranged beforehand.

  Moments later, I was the dazed recipient of three kisses, hugs, and 'Bye, Mom's as I walked into Steph's house. I gave a short chuckle and said, "Wow, where did that come from?"

  In response, I felt a sharp slap across my cheek. I lifted my hand to my stinging cheek and looked at Steph in shock.

  Her expression was cold, calculating. "This is how you come see me?"

  I looked down. My jeans and t-shirt had definitely seen better days and I realized I honestly couldn't remember if I had brushed my hair this morning before putting it up in a ponytail. "I-"

  She cut me off with another slap before wrapping a hand in my ponytail and dragging me to the kitchen. I hit my hands and knees at the foot of a chair when she shoved me. "Take it off", she commanded.

  I slowly started to remove my clothes. Once they were all off, she yanked my head back.

  "See those two water bottles?" she asked, pointing to the large bottles on the table. At my tight nod, which pulled at her grip on my hair and made me wince, she continued. "I just finished drinking those about thirty minutes ago." Her grin was cruel in my face. "So how is my little potty today?"

  I tried to pull away. "Steph, no, I can't-" Another slap across my face silenced me.

  "Dee, I don't want to hear
it." Calmly, her hand still on my ponytail like a leash, she dragged me into her bathroom. She pushed me up against the edge of her tub, my hips digging into the rim. I heard her open a drawer and then she sat on my back.

  Something smooth and plastic gently rubbed against my ass. The pressure of her body on my back kept me still.

  "Dee, you've had a hard couple weeks, I know. I just want to help you relax and I think this will do it. Sometimes it's easier to get back in the swing once you've been broken all the way down. It seems easier than trying to stay standing under all that weight. Just let it all go." With that, I felt the object lift before the sharp spank of her hairbrush.

  I squealed with the first, trying to wriggle away under her weight. She rained smacks down on my ass mercilessly until I felt tears falling freely down my face. The weight of all my stress seemed to crash down with it until I was openly sobbing. Only then did she stop. She pushed and prodded at me until I was kneeling in the tub, still sniffling with my tears. She lifted my chin - I'm sure my face was a mess- and sneered, "Now, potty, it's time to wash those tears away."

  I bent my head, shaking it and babbling with pleas for her not to do it. Again, she slapped my face. "Potty, you know I can do whatever I want to you. One more time and I'll make you drink every drop."

  Steph closed her thighs around my head. I could feel her pussy brushing against my forehead and I squeezed my eyes closed tight.

  The warmth spread, dripping down my face and in my hair. I could smell it, the tangy bitter scent making me want to breathe through my mouth. She moved then, backing away slightly, which splashed some against my lips, then down to my tits. I felt it dripping, running down over my stomach, my legs, and over my pussy. I was shocked to feel a tingle of arousal shoot through me at the utter humiliation and disgust I felt.

  "Okay, potty, tongue out."

  My eyes opened slowly and I stared up at her. She watched me calmly, expectantly. "Tongue out", she said again, enunciating it sharply.