by Cyanne
The impact was devastating, and it stunned Frank. It was the first time he’d been on the receiving end, and he didn’t like it. He shoved the cop away and spun around, searching for his little girl. But she’d already been swallowed up in the raging tide of change, lost to him forever.
He fought his way out of the riot, finally finding some peace in a dimly-lit alley that ran off Balbo. He leaned against the well-worn brick, shoulders slumped and head down, breath coming in ragged gasps. An ‘old man’, in the truest sense of the words, at fifty.
“Hey, right on, this is about the coolest place to crash right now, huh?” Frank wearily turned his head. A woman stood in the mouth of the trash-strewn alley. She was wearing a buckskin vest and a pair of jeans, a silver peace sign dangling from her neck, a couple of broken-stemmed daisies in her dark, unruly hair. “It’s, like, crazy out there, huh?” she babbled. “The pigs are running–”
She caught herself. Too late. Even in the dim light, she could see the rage flood into the big cop’s bloodshot eyes.
He grabbed her by the scruff of the neck and jerked her up straight. Then marched her down the alley, shoved her through a red wooden door barely hanging onto its hinges. Back in action again, doing something to clean the garbage up off the streets of his hometown, fight the movement that had broken up his own home.
He kicked the door shut and yanked a chain that shed some light on the scene.
The room was just a dirty room with a couple of broken-down couches and chairs, but it was good enough for the purpose Frank had in mind.
“Hey, man, I didn’t mean to come down on you or nuthin’,” the woman protested, dancing to the cop’s tune on her tip-toes. “I just–”
Frank slammed her against the wall. Then pulled out his baton and struck her – right across the bell-bottomed ass. She cried out, her body shuddering in his clutching hand. He struck her again, and again, his mouth open and eyes boiling, sweat pouring down his stone-cut face.
“What’s your name, freak?” he yelled in her ear.
“Peppermint,” the woman gulped. “Peppermint Pastel.”
He whacked her ass. “Your real goddamn legal Christian name?” “Julie. Julie Diaz.”
He grunted, kept on smacking her with his baton, the rounded cheeks shivering under the skin-tight denim. “And what the hell are you doing out on the streets – when you should be at home? Like a good girl.”
Julie stared blindly at the paint-peeled wall, her teeth clenched and body rocking to the blows the cop was dishing out. “I’m not a good girl,” she gritted.
Frank knocked his helmet back off his head, and it clattered to the concrete floor. “You’re not a good girl, is damn right,” he growled, whacking her ass, wielding the baton like a judgment. “That’s why you need this.”
He struck her over and over, until his arm, and then his entire body, began shaking as badly as hers. And then the yippie-stick struck the floor and Frank collapsed onto a couch, pulling Julie down on top of him, over his knees. He yanked her jeans down and her buttocks sprang out into the open, pale quivering mounds lashed with red stripes.
“You should be at home …” Frank blubbered. He raised his bare hand and delivered a blow, smack on her bare bottom, knocking the daisies out of her hair.
Tears streaked down his face, the girl’s bum flaming red where he’d hit it. He desperately spanked her, hard and fast and angry. Until the blows grew gradually slower and weaker. Then stopped altogether. “What’s the use?” he mumbled, shaking his concrete block of a head.
Julie twisted around and looked at the sobbing man in the sweat-stained uniform, her brown eyes bright and glaring. He was rubbing her cheeks now, but it was too late to undo the damage, stop what he’d started. “Spank me,” she hissed.
He raised his head and blinked his pale-blue eyes, ran a shaking hand over his iron-grey crew-cut. What she wanted was clear to even him in her eyes, no communication gap here.
He tapped her ass, and she whimpered. He smacked one fleshy cheek and then the other, then both at once. And she moaned, dropping her head back down and going limp in his lap, obedient, taking her punishment and liking it. He whacked her young, impressionable bottom over and over, the sharp crack of his hard hand against her soft skin shattering the breathless silence of the room.
“Spank some fucking sense into me, you fucking pig,” Julie screamed, the blowtorch heat from her beaten bum flooding her whole body. Her head spun, and she jumped with the electric shocks that arced all through her with each and every blow of the big man’s big hand on her sensitive bottom, her pussy wetting the crotch of her flower-embroidered jeans.
Frank’s eyes fired with a passion other than hate, as he rained blow after blow down upon the girl. He struck her hard and fast, fanning her ass fire-engine-red and burning, his flaming hand beating out an authoritative tattoo that echoed off the barren walls for all to hear and take heed; his cock filling the front of his police-issue pants.
When her bum was nothing but a numbed brick of pain and pleasure, Julie rolled off Frank’s legs and onto the floor. She grabbed his hand, pulling him down to her level. “69,” she rasped, pushing him down flat on his back. “Let’s 69.”
The straight-ahead missionary man was lost. “I don’t–” Julie already had his belt and fly open. She pulled his heavy cock out and quickly bowed her head and engulfed his swollen hood with her mouth.
“Yeah,” Frank groaned. He rubbed the girl’s blistered bottom, thrilling with the feel of her warm, wet mouth sucking on his pulsing cock.
Julie pumped the man’s vein-ribboned shaft and squeezed his big, hairy balls, her lips sliding halfway down his meat and then back up again, head bobbing and hair flying. Then, still sucking, she straddled his head with her legs, positioning her glistening black bush directly over his face.
Frank understood what he was expected to do now. He gripped Julie’s heated cheeks and stuck out his tongue, tentatively licked her moist pussy. Tasting a woman’s sex for the very first time. He licked again, not so tentatively this time. He hungrily lapped at her snatch, as she sucked and sucked on his cock.
Julie surged with the feel of the man’s wet-sandpaper tongue on her sensitive lips, shimmering with the feel of his strong hands on her beaten ass. She popped his dripping erection out of her mouth and murmured, “Spank me. Spank me while you eat me.” Then inhaled as much of his straining cock as she could.
Frank closed his eyes and groaned, slapping one of Julie’s cheeks. The other. She sucked harder, faster, deeper. He flailed her battered bum, square handprints blazing white now on the ravaged flesh.
He smacked her ass and lapped at her pussy, licking up and swallowing the warm juices, the spicy taste and smell of the girl, the wicked strangeness of it all, making his head spin. As she earnestly pulled on his cock with her lips, swabbing his shaft with her tongue and squeezing his balls with her hand, eyes closed and body blazing. The pair of them lost in the sensual moment.
Someone ran screaming down the alley, sandals flip-flopping. While someone chased after them, boots crunching. While out in the streets all around the battle raged on, charge and counterculture-charge, bottles breaking and windows smashing, truncheons and fists flying. But inside, in the eye of the ragged storm of revolution, the only sounds were the fat, wet smack of flesh against flesh, the sloppy, wet sucking sounds of mutual oral sex; the muted moans and groans of a man and a woman getting together and loving one another.
Frank went rigid, unable to control himself any longer. He pinched Julie’s ass in warning. Then exploded in the girl’s mouth, pulsing white-hot ecstasy. She kept on sucking, though, sucking up his sperm and swallowing it down. And even as he was getting off, his body jerking with joy, he resolutely slapped Julie’s ass and licked at her pussy, brushing her swollen clit with his stroking tongue. Until she too gushed fiery orgasm, bum and body shuddering, her hot, sticky juices flooding Frank’s face.
They lay there together in that sanctuary from chaos fo
r a very long time. Before Julie finally climbed to her feet, extended a hand, and helped Frank back onto his feet. They reassembled their uniforms.
Frank cleared his throat. “Well, uh, I just want to … thank you–”
“Save it, man,” Julie said, brown eyes warm and wet. “That’s free love for you, dig? Never having to say thanks – or ‘I do’.” She laughed. “Hey, maybe I’ll see you out there tomorrow night, huh?”
Frank awkwardly holstered his baton, shaking his head. “Convention’s over tonight.”
“Oh, yeah, right. Well, there’ll be other protests, and other marches, and other sit-ins.” The flower child of the love generation smiled. “Other police riots.”
The establishment Man grinned back. He picked up his police helmet and shyly rubbed it. “Yeah, sure, someone’s got to keep you … freaks in line. Whatever it takes.”
Mr O’Connor’s Office
by Ava Rose Johnson
With both eyes on the latest Jilly Cooper novel and both hands wrapped around a steaming cup of coffee, Elaine didn’t notice the arrival of her boss until it was too late.
“Good morning, Elaine.”
At the sound of Mr O’Connor’s deep, faintly-amused tone, Elaine jumped in her chair and promptly spilled coffee over the third sex scene of the book. Shit.
“Uh, good morning, sir.” She fumbled under her desk for some tissues while her face heated to the colour of a tomato. “Is there something you’d like me to do?”
He raised his eyes from the puddle on her desk to her face, forcing her to meet his eyes. She swallowed, unable to stop herself from squeezing her thighs together.
“No.” His lips quirked in the sexiest grin she’d ever seen. “I’ll let you know if there’s anything I need you for.”
“Okay sir.” Her voice squeaked and she blushed harder. Did she have to be so bloody obvious? “I’ll be here waiting.”
“Good girl.” With his briefcase at his side, Mr O’Connor walked toward his office. His long strides displayed his power while his black suit showed off his broad shoulders and delectable arse to perfection. Elaine shivered. He turned her on way too much for a Monday morning.
She glanced down at her open book and sighed. The yummy scene was destroyed forever. Slamming it shut, she dropped it into her bag and returned her attention to the computer. But as hard as she tried, she couldn’t regain her concentration.
Ever since she’d started working here, she’d had a crush on Mr O’Connor. More than a crush. It had gone so far that she’d followed him out of work one night to a bar where he met an incredibly beautiful blonde. Elaine had glanced down at her own brown suit and flat shoes and realised what a lost cause it was. A man like Mr O’Connor wouldn’t even notice a girl as plain and mousy as Elaine. Not when he could have that piece of ass.
But despite the realisation, Elaine hadn’t stopped fantasising when she was in bed late at night with only a cat for company. Unfortunately, those fantasies were beginning to take over. It was now at the point where she was skipping off to the loo when she was supposed to be working, just to masturbate.
“Hello?”
Elaine lifted her eyes and almost had to bite her tongue to keep from throwing a tantrum. The gorgeous redhead who stood before her was a business associate of Mr O’Connor. And Elaine was certain the woman was an associate of Mr O’Connor outside the boardroom too. The idea of this bitch getting fucked by that god was enough to make Elaine’s fists curl.
But being the polite, well-trained secretary that she was, Elaine pasted a bright smile on her face. “Good morning, Ms Brice. How can I help you?”
“I have a meeting with Mr O’Connor,” the woman said, her husky voice dripping sexuality. “Is he ready to see me yet?”
Elaine lifted the phone and dialled his office.
“Yes?”
Her thighs clenched again at the rumble of his voice. “Ms Brice is here to see you, sir.”
There was a pause and when he spoke, Elaine could have sworn she heard the smile in his voice. “Send her in.”
Elaine looked at the redhead who stared back in smug satisfaction. Fighting the urge to tell the bitch where to stick it, Elaine tilted her head to the office door.
“He’ll see you now.”
Ms Brice sauntered away, her hips swinging with each step. Elaine glanced down at her boyish hips in despair. No wonder he didn’t look twice at her. Flat-chested and skinny-legged. She was barely a woman. Though Lord knows, I feel like one.
Elaine leaned back in her chair and forced her eyes to the computer. She blinked as the screen flashed, going from the word processing programme to black. Damn. The last thing she needed was a computer break-down.
But then the screen flickered and she was given a view of an office. Her eyes widened. Was she seeing what she thought she was seeing?
She leaned forward, squinting at the picture. The office with its mahogany furniture, leather sofa and filing cabinets was the same office she went into every day to give Mr O’Connor his messages. And there he was, lounging in the leather chair behind the massive desk, his long fingers steepled beneath his stubble-covered chin.
Elaine swallowed hard as he spoke, his rich tones sending thrills down her spine. Realising that anybody nearby could hear, she reached for her MP3 player earphones and pushed the wire into the computer. The sound disappeared until she settled the earphones in her ears and once again she could hear his voice.
“You’re early,” he was saying, his voice stern and quiet.
The redhead stepped forward into the camera’s view. “I know.” Her head bowed. “I’m sorry.”
“You should be.” In a sudden move, Mr O’Connor got to his feet. “You’re very bad for being so inconsiderate of my time.”
Elaine’s eyes widened. She’d never seen Mr O’Connor get so mad over something so small before. Usually, he was mellow, very laid-back. She quite liked the tough side of him. Watching his eyes bore into the redhead sent a surge of wet heat to Elaine’s pussy.
“I’m sorry,” the redhead repeated, her head still bowed. “How would you like to punish me?”
Elaine’s mouth dropped open as her clit began to throb deep between her legs. The sexual intention behind Ms Brice’s words wasn’t lost on her. This wasn’t real. It was a game. A sex game.
“Pull up your skirt,” were his sharp words. Elaine watched, hypnotized by the sight of the strong, seductive woman pulling her skirt over her thighs. She held her skirt around her waist, her creamy buttocks bared to the camera. She wore no knickers.
Ms Brice remained still while Mr O’Connor circled her, his cold eyes trailing up and down her body. Elaine’s mouth dried. The waiting to see what came next had her breaking into a sweat. She felt like she was watching porn, except it had real characters in it, characters that were incredibly sexy.
Eventually Mr O’Connor came to a stop, standing beside the redhead so that his face was visible to the camera.
“Bend over,” he ordered, his voice calm and steady.
The redhead did as she was told and Elaine could see that she was trembling. Mr O’Connor reached forward and placed one large hand on the woman’s bare arse. He stroked them gently, tracing the crack with his thumb. And then he lifted his hand and brought it back down in three hard slaps.
Elaine pushed a hand between her legs, the sharp sound of the smacks shooting straight to her pussy. She rubbed at her clit through the material of her skirt, but it wasn’t enough.
For a brief second she glanced up at the glass doors which led into the main reception area. Gloria was behind the desk on a phone call while the postman dropped off a couple of brown packages. No-one was looking her way.
Turning her head back to the screen, Elaine took in the sight of Ms Brice’s reddening buttocks while she pulled her own skirt up past her thighs. She pressed her hand against the damp cotton of her panties, finding the pressure her clit needed.
Mr O’Connor was once again stroking the woman’s arse
, occasionally dipping a finger between her thighs. Every time he did, she pushed back against him. But then he’d pull away, moving his hand upward. After a minute or so, his palm slammed down on Ms Brice’s arse again.
A whimper escaped Elaine’s lips. She could almost feel the sting of the slap shooting through her veins, quickly becoming pleasure. She slipped her hand inside her knickers and began to rub fiercely.
“You’ve been a very bad girl, Amanda,” Mr O’Connor was saying as he continued to alternate between slapping and stroking the woman’s buttocks. “Let me hear you say it.”
Ms Brice tried to say something but her voice caught on a sob of pleasure as his hand came down on her again.
“What did you say?” he demanded. “Tell me what you are.”
“A bad girl,” she gasped. “A very bad girl.”
Elaine almost groaned with disappointment when Mr O’Connor pulled away. But then she licked her lips, her pussy tightening as he began to unbuckle his trousers.
In her seat, she was shaking. How long had she dreamed about his cock? Now she’d finally get to see it. It would make her fantasies so much more real.
While Mr O’Connor worked on his belt, the redhead tried to stand.
“No,” he barked. “Stay where you are.” He pulled at his zipper until it pushed over the bulge. Elaine melted when the heavy length of his cock sprung free. Her thighs quivered beneath the desk and her juices soaked her fingers. It was incredible – so thick and engorged, throbbing the way Elaine’s clit throbbed. She licked her lips, eager to take him inside her pussy. Since she couldn’t, she stuck one finger in her hole in an effort to satisfy the ache.
Mr O’Connor was now sliding his hand up and down his shaft, working the tight skin. Ms Brice was still bent over the desk, waiting for what he would give her.