by Mimi Strong
As they kissed, their tongues finding each other, a little spark ignited deep within her. She prayed silently that he would not change rhythm, would not stop until she came. The warmth spread out in waves, almost unstoppable, almost as inevitable as the sun rising.
She'd let go of her skirt at some point—she couldn't remember when, and now her arms were wrapped around his shoulders, her hands in his thick, black hair.
He shifted back and pulled her away from the wall.
Her eyes flew open, and she was fearful of being dropped, or of them falling, but he was strong, and she was small, and he held her up easily while stroking in and out.
She glanced over to the bed, wondering if he was taking her there, and he walked with her on him, toward the bed, but then stopped.
He spoke, saying, “We don't need the bed.”
Her hands slipped around on his shoulders, now damp with his sweat.
The back of her calf, wrapped tight around his lower back, also slipped a little on his perspiration.
“I'm going to come,” he said, strongly bouncing her up and down on him.
She moaned, the heat rising again, increasing with each movement, each stroke in and out, her clit being massaged by the movement of his girth, and the interior side of her clit rubbing up and down on his gorgeous hard dick.
He made an urgent moan, his hands firmly on her buttocks, lifting her up easily and dropping her, hard, onto him. Again and again, filling her.
She thought about the hot wash of fluid that would be coming from him, bathing her insides, and her orgasm began, pleasurable waves, and then an explosion, blasting out from his cock, deep inside her. She moaned and threw her head back, all her muscles clenching and releasing at once as the pleasure rocketed through her.
His breathing stopped as everything bottled up, and then he gasped and released. He released into her, and she slid up and down on him easily, taking it all. Taking every last drop, every last shudder.
He bit gently into her shoulder, and then, when he was done, he walked them over to the bed. He leaned forward and set her on her back, then he gently withdrew, and crawled up onto the bed, alongside her.
They both glistened in the soft, romantic light of the room. Outside, the sun had gone down, and the city glittered.
He stroked her face. Her hair had changed. She was no longer a redhead, not even that petite. He looked at her, his eyebrows knitted together in confusion.
She said to him, “I love you.”
He kissed her hungrily, lovingly, then pulled back and said, “I love you too, Lexie Ross.”
Meanwhile, at the cafe, the waiter arrived with two drinks, which he said were compliments of a gentleman at the bar.
I was in a daze from the scenario I'd been imagining.
What the hell?
Suzanne had given phone sex talk to Mr. Luthor Thorne, and now I didn't know what way was up or down, and my loins were aching, painfully frustrated.
“Thanks,” I said to the waiter. He scurried off quickly, before he could be embarrassed by us again.
Suzanne handed me back my phone, saying, “That was … different.”
I took the phone and said, “Why did you say you loved him?”
Suzanne threw her head back and laughed. “Good grief, Lexie, you must have potatoes growing in your ears. I certainly did not tell him I loved him. I told him he had a fantastic body, a gorgeous voice, and that it had been my pleasure giving him pleasure.”
“Oh.”
I stared down at the silly-looking drinks in front of us. They had actual umbrellas in them.
Suzanne turned back and tried to get a peek at the gentleman at the bar who'd sent them over, but whoever he was, he'd disappeared.
I sipped my drink, which was an ice-blended concoction that tasted of strawberry.
The strawberry taste was so vibrant, so good. I felt like I'd never truly tasted strawberry, never understood it, until just then.
Suzanne took her pink yoga jacket off and draped it across the back of her chair. In a silly pseudo-British voice, she said, “If I do say so, I did rather a good job on that fellow of yours. Was it Jacob? It didn't sound like Jacob.”
“Someone else.”
She frowned. “You're not telling me, which makes me suspect he might be married. Listen, Lexie, you do not mess with another woman's husband.”
“He's not married,” I said.
She relaxed visibly and sucked on her drink. Her cheeks were flushed, and I had a pretty good idea about how hot and bothered she'd gotten. Her husband was really going to get it tonight.
I asked her, “Why were you so nervous? In the phone sex fantasy?”
She gazed up at me, her blue eyes looking puzzled. “I wasn't nervous.”
“But you kept saying you were trembling, or your legs were shaking.”
“Hah!” she said. “You must have been hearing things. I said no such thing.”
“Weird.” I slurped the strawberry drink again, feeling incredibly surreal. Each taste of strawberry made the vision I'd had even more real, only it was me behind held up and fucked against the wallpapered wall, and me getting pistoned. On Mr. Thorne. Held up in his strong arms.
Pistoned.
Yeah, that was the word for it. And it had felt so good, in my mind. So fucking hot.
My crotch started to ache as I replayed the scenario, this time with a slightly taller, darker-haired girl. Me. Standing with my back to the wall, my legs trembling with excitement. Parting my legs and awaiting Mr. Thorne's inspection, and his strong tongue burrowing into my folds.
Suzanne was still talking, saying how if the professional organizing business didn't pick up soon, she might look into the phone sex business, since she was a natural entrepreneur.
“Good idea,” I mumbled.
As I looked at my pretty friend, all pink and flushed with sexual energy, I felt irritated and angry. How dare Mr. Luthor Thorne talk to Suzanne? He should have refused.
If I ever saw him again, in person, I was going to make him pay for fucking her against the wall in the nice hotel room, even if it had just been my imagination.
He'd said dirty things to her over the phone, and that part had been real.
He'd be sorry.
2: Perfect Timing
On Tuesday, Mr. Luthor called again for phone sex.
He grunted, “Candy.”
“Not available. Do you want Mitzi?”
“Sure.”
I nearly threw the phone across the room. I was knee-deep in clutter, helping a rich old lady rearrange her boxes of collectible porcelain figurines.
The old lady tsk-tsked me and shook her head. “You young people and your telephones. You can't not answer it, can you?”
I ended the call and turned the phone off. “Sorry, Mrs. Chong.”
She clapped her hands together and surveyed the mess. Tissue paper and boxes were everywhere, because we couldn't just inventory and stack her collectibles, but she had to take each one out of the box and actually show it to me!
Mrs. Chong said, “How about I have Chef whip us up some lunch so we can take a much-needed break?”
We'd only been at the organizing for less than forty-five minutes, but I was hot, sweaty, and agitated, so I agreed, even though I didn't like to waste time when I was on the clock.
On Wednesday, I was hip deep in Mrs. Chong's collectibles, anticipating spending the rest of the week there, when Mr. Luthor Thorne called. Again. Wanting phone sex.
I excused myself to Mrs. Chong's washroom, shut the door, and said to him, “If you want something from me, ask me on a date.”
He said, “You sound cranky. Is Mitzi there?”
I ended the call and turned the phone off.
On Thursday, Mr. Thorne did not call.
On Friday, Mr. Thorne did not call, and I felt sad.
I didn't want to feel sad, or lonely. After work, I called up Jacob, my fireman friend.
“Lexie, I don't know. I'm exhausted from w
orking out,” he said, his voice so tired it was making me feel tired. “And I have to get up early ...”
I held the phone away while he made excuses. I cut in, saying, “I'll suck your dick like it's a diamond ring.”
He cleared his throat.
“Jacob?”
“Why don't you come on over? I think I'm getting a second wind.”
With a big grin on my face, I ended the call and raced to grab my keys from the bowl beside the door.
I was at his place in less than ten minutes. Both of us being in the same neighborhood was probably why the arrangement worked so well. We'd met at a club and been introduced by a mutual acquaintance. Jacob and I had hit it off, for the night, at least.
We'd attempted to go on a date, once, but he'd come up to my place to pick me up, I'd yanked him inside the door, torn his clothes off, and that was about as far as dating went for us. We'd talked about our needs, and both agreed we weren't into anything serious. Our arrangement was good. Though it wasn't the sort of thing I could tell my mother about, it was honest, and we really were friends.
When I got to his place, he was walking around his bachelor apartment, holding up his cell phone with one hand and running an electric razor over his face with the other.
I went to the fridge and grabbed myself a bottle of beer. He finished shaving, clicked off the razor, then said into his phone, “I gotta go, sweetie, my friend is here.”
After he put the phone away, I said, “Sweetie?” We weren't exclusive, but I did want to know if someone else was in the picture.
He laughed. “My niece. She's the most adorable thing.”
I stepped in close and slid a hand up under his tight-fitting, black T-shirt. “You, sir, are the most adorable thing.”
“I need a haircut,” he said, running his hand over his black curls, his dark brown eyes crinkling with his grin.
“I'll cut your hair.”
“Really?”
“Sure! I trim my mother's hair, because she likes to save money.”
He took the bottle of beer from my hand and tipped it back, guzzling the rest, then he set the bottle down on his counter and let out a loud belch.
“Jacob!” I yelled, pulling away from him before the smell hit me.
“Grr,” he said. “That's what men do.”
I circled the small apartment, ending up in front of the gas fireplace. I draped myself over the mantle and said, “What else to men do?”
He jokingly smacked one hand into his open palm. “They pound the pussy.”
I unbuttoned my blouse, revealing that I wasn't wearing a bra. With a flirty smile, I fondled my breast and said, “Come here so I can put one of these in your mouth to get you to stop talking.”
“No dirty talk tonight,” he said, getting closer.
He stopped a few feet away from me and slowly pulled his tight, black T-shirt off over his head. He took an eternity, just like a hunky fireman at a calendar photo shoot—which was something he had done for the last few years. Always for a good, charitable cause, of course.
His body really was a work of art, with clearly-defined abdominal muscles, and a slim waist tapering up to broad, strong shoulders.
He knew I was watching, knew I was drinking him in, and he dragged out the moment, finishing with an oh-so-casual stretch, his muscular arms above his head.
“You sexy tease,” I said.
“Play your cards right and I'll do the whole dance for you someday.”
I tilted my shoulders back and let my blouse slip off, falling to the floor.
He stepped all the way up to me at last, but he didn't put those muscular arms around me just yet. He leaned down and licked at one nipple, firming it with his tongue and then giving it an exquisitely hard suck. A tremor of pleasure shot through me from my nipple to my core, and I gasped.
He looked up at me through his dark eyebrows, his eyes so knowing. As with the undressing, he knew exactly what he did to me, the affect his gorgeous body and his generous touch had on me.
His hands gripped my waist, the firm pressure of his fingers sending a thrill down my spine. As he slowly moved both hands around to the front of my waistband, to the button, my pussy began to ache for him. Still leaning down, he unfastened my jeans as he moved to the other breast, running his tongue around the whole orb of it and then onto the other nipple, already firm for him.
He moved his mouth all the way up to my collarbone, my throat, and then to my mouth. I kissed him eagerly, parting my lips to allow his tongue access.
He had my jeans and panties down and I stepped out of them, kicking them aside without breaking our kiss. We were still in front of the fireplace, with me leaning back against the mantle to steady myself.
I had my hands around his broad, muscular back, my fingertips alternately digging in and gliding over his firm muscles. I knew he worked out to be strong for his work, for hauling equipment and saving people's lives, but being so beautiful was a fringe benefit I could enjoy.
His kissing was sensual, but not as ravenous as he usually was. I pulled my head back and commented, “Are you feeling up to this? I don't want to wear you out if your tired. I'm sorry … I … um, barely said two words to you when I got here. Did you have a busy day at work?”
“Nothing too dramatic. A couple of accidents, but it was a good day. We did good work out there.”
I ran my fingers over his biceps. “I'm so proud of you.”
He pulled me in and squeezed me in a hug. “Thanks for saying that. You're a good friend.”
“So, what do you wanna do? Wanna watch some TV? Order food in?”
He took one of my hands and pressed it against the firm shape at the front of his jeans.
“You're not so tired after all,” I said.
He started walking backwards, pulling me with him in an awkward, half-dancing, half-stumbling fashion, until we reached his sofa. His sofa was also his bed, but he hadn't folded the bed out, which was fine by me, because I hated that squeaky old thing.
He fell back on the couch, pulling me down on top of him. I was completely naked, but he still had his jeans on. With him on his back, I rubbed my mound against his crotch, pressing hard against his cock to rub my clit against him. I groaned. “Oh, let's dry hump, like teenagers,” I said, getting into rhythm.
He laughed. “Just for a minute.”
“Mmm.” I kept rubbing against him, surprised at how pleasurable the sensation was. He was locked away under his jeans and I was free to get as much friction as I needed. I'd be coming in a few minutes, at this rate. Thinking about what torture it was for Jacob only made it all the more dirty and fun.
“Your back is sweaty,” he said as he pushed me away.
I bit my lip and growled in frustration. “So? A little sweat freaks you out now?”
He unbuttoned his jeans and released his cock, fully engorged, shiny and slick across the head. “I want to be inside you when you come.”
I grabbed his cock in my hand and squeezed. “So demanding.”
“You can still be on top.”
I pumped him with my hand, making his eyes roll up with pleasure. Now it was his turn to bite his lip. He caught his breath and said, “Up, up, we have to pull out the bed.”
I jumped up and grabbed the cushions, tossing them with gusto across the room to make him smile. He was all business as he pulled out the bed (with sheets on it this time, thank goodness), got his jeans off, then got out the condoms and the lube.
I eyed the lube suspiciously. Who was he kidding? I always got crazy wet for him. Was he thinking about some other girl? Or was he going to try for anal sex?
He lay back on the bed, his gorgeous calendar-ready body waiting for me, and any worries I had flitted away. It was just the two of us, our naked bodies twining together, giving each other pleasure.
I climbed on top of him, but didn't put his hot, meaty cock into my pussy just yet. I kissed him and sucked on his neck, grinding my mound against his erection, squirming around. Whe
n I sensed he'd suffer enough torture, I slowly moved down his body until I had my face over his cock. I pressed my face against the silky-soft skin, drinking in the musky scent.
With a giggle, I said, “I'm going to suck it like it's a diamond ring.”
He didn't respond verbally, but I thought it was the funniest thing. I guess, in the abstract sense, I meant that his cock was special, and that he was precious. I opened wide and licked his head quickly before bobbing down on his shaft with my mouth. His cock throbbed as I sucked it, getting even harder, so rigid that it forced my face closer and closer to the chiseled muscles of his stomach.
With one hand on the base, my other hand roamed around, exploring his body for my own gratification. Even my hands were pleasure receptors, with his beautiful, muscular body.
When I pulled him from my mouth, he grabbed my whole body and shifted me up on top of him. He deftly grabbed the condom and got read, then gripped me by the hips and pressed the tip of his cock between my slick folds. The fullness pulled at my skin, pulled everything tight and firm.
I was so turned on from giving him head that I started to come before he was even all the way in.
“You are so hot,” he said, driving into me.
I came, sooner than expected, but still with some fireworks. My throat was tight as I cried out in pleasure.
He kept moving, working me up and down his hard shaft. The air around us was dense and rich with his musk.
As we kept up this dance, waves of pleasure rippled through me, my inner walls and clit incredibly sensitive. As he thrust into me, moving my body with his strong hands and arms, his hips pulsing rhythmically, his motions dragged out the edge of my orgasm, and it went on forever.
When he came, grunting and tensing, I was still right there with him.
After the feverish movements, we came to a rest, and I collapsed onto him, my strong, sturdy, good friend Jacob.
My breathing had just returned to normal when the buzzer in his apartment buzzed.
He pushed me off him. “That'll be the Chinese food.”
“What? When did you order Chinese food?”