by Avery Kaye
How could I forget? There’s Euclid. Can’t forget Euclid.
But that’s it. An old worthless car. My job. And a dog somebody else couldn’t love.
This fucking house isn’t mine. I lost my home. When my wife decided she loved another man. A wanna-be rock star without a penny to his name. Who didn’t even graduate from high school and thinks J-O-B is a four-letter word.
Kelsey Steele wouldn’t love a man like that…would she? A dreamer who doesn’t want to grow up?
No.
Euclid does his I-need-to-go-outside dance and I lead him to the back door. After letting him out, I stomp upstairs to my bedroom, sit on the bed, and yank off my tie.
Kelsey isn’t like my ex.
She’s smart. She’s beautiful. She’s sexy.
One part bad girl, one part good, she drives me crazy. The way she looks. The way she smells. The way she feels. The words she says.
And her ass. That perfect ass.
My dick twitches.
Spanking Kelsey would drive me crazy.
I imagine her standing before me, here in my bedroom, wearing the short little dress she had on the night of the party. “I’ve been bad,” she tells me.
“Come here,” I command, patting my knees.
She looks nervous and excited as she slowly creeps toward me. Her face is flushed, her nipples hard. I see them poking at the thin fabric. She isn’t wearing a bra. “I’m sorry for being bad. I won’t do it again. I promise.”
I know she’s lying.
“Now.” I watch her move closer.
She stops. “What are you going to do?”
“I’m going to teach you a lesson. A hard lesson.” I motion to my bent knees. “Here. Ass up, belly down.”
She bends over, resting her upper body on my legs. Her head dangles, her long hair obscuring her view. In this position, her dress creeps up. The bottoms of her delectable ass cheeks peek out from under it. I feel her heartbeat throbbing, her chest inflating.
She’s breathing fast. She’s excited. Nervous. On edge.
So am I.
“Have you been spanked before, Kelsey?”
“No. Never.”
She’s going to enjoy this.
So am I.
I slide her dress up. She’s wearing a thong.
Her smooth ass takes my breath away. It’s perfectly round. Perfectly unmarked. For now.
I’m going to leave my mark on it.
I grasp the waistband of the thong and rip it. The useless garment falls to the floor. Now she’s completely uncovered.
Bare bottom. Bare pussy.
My heart hammers against my breastbone. I’m going to make this so good for her. She’ll beg for more.
I smooth my hand over her silky, white skin. There’s not a single flaw. None. It’s a pristine canvas. Mine to paint. Her back arches, thrusting her ass higher, and I slide my hand down, over her pussy. It’s wet. Wet and ready. Hot. Slick. Perfection. I will bury myself in that pussy someday. But not now. No.
I lift my hand and bring it down with controlled force. The sound of the strike is just loud enough to make my cock jump. She startles, wriggling and whimpering. A pink flush infuses her skin.
“Some girls don’t learn the easy way, do they?” I ask as I strike her luscious ass a second time.
“No,” she whispers, her spine arching more. Yes, she’s enjoying this. I knew she would. “They don’t. I don’t. Teach me.”
“I’ll teach you.” I smack her other ass cheek, turning it pink too. Both globes are marked now. By my hand. I cup her hot, wet pussy. “Now, open your legs,” I demand, and she obeys, parting her thighs for me. I push a finger into her tight channel and her wet cunt clamps around it, holding it inside. My dick throbs. My balls throb.
Abandoning my fantasy, I unzip my pants and wrap my hand around my hard dick. God damn, I want her so bad. I want to do every dirty, nasty thing she asks. Spank her. Eat her pussy until she screams. Shove my cock deep inside her and fill her until she can’t take any more.
I close my eyes and stroke, images of Kelsey playing through my head. She smiles as she pulls her dress over her head. Now she’s completely nude. I can see every gorgeous inch of her. The perfect tits. The smooth stomach. The flared hips. So beautiful. And all mine.
Faster, I stroke, heat building inside my body.
“Turn around,” I imagine telling her.
She turns so I can see that lovely ass, still pink from the spanking.
Faster. Hotter. Balls tight.
She bends at the waist and wags that ass at me.
I groan and lose it. My orgasm rages through my body like a hurricane.
The things I am going to do to my sweet Kelsey once she’s mine. The devious, delicious things.
May can’t come fast enough.
5
Kelsey
“Take off your panties,” Jordan commands. “Now. Before I grow impatient.”
Hands trembling, I hook my thumbs in the waistband of my cotton panties and pull them down, over my hips.
He isn’t actually in my room with me now. But I imagine him here. Watching me, lips curled into a wicked smile. His eyes glitter with dark male need. I don’t know what he’s about to do next.
Are the rumors true? Or not?
I’m excited and scared to find out. Need throbs through me and yet my nerves skitter. It’s an odd but totally mind-blowing combination.
Down my panties go. I drop them and they slide to my ankles.
Now I’m naked. In front of a man for the first time. In front of him.
“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs, his gaze caressing my body. “I’ve been waiting for so long. Waiting to make you mine.”
I’ve been waiting so long too.
It’s only been a few weeks since that night in his garage. When he kissed me during the thunderstorm. But to me it feels like a lifetime. Since then I’ve ached for his touches and kisses.
But has he touched me?
No.
Has he kissed me?
No.
He has kept his distance. As he promised.
Is it the right thing to do, to stay away from me? Probably. For both our sakes. But it’s driving me crazy. I’ve resorted to this, to masturbating to my fantasies whenever I get the chance.
Speaking of fantasies….
He stands up, walks toward me, and I tremble with anticipation.
I want to belong to Jordan. I want him to claim me. To mark me. To slam me against the wall and drive his cock deep inside. I want him to fill me with his cum as he tells me he loves me. I want him to say he can’t live another day without me. That he thinks about me all the time.
He scoops me off my feet and gently lays me on the bed, angling over me to kiss me. His tongue begs entrance and I open, welcoming it inside. He tastes sweet. Like the smoothest, finest wine. His hands flatten over my breasts, palms tormenting my nipples, fingers kneading my tits.
I love how he touches me. He’s firm and commanding and yet deliciously gentle. I tremble and writhe beneath him, my body burning. The sound of our labored breathing and the scent of our desperate need fill the room. He kisses a tingly path down my chest, down my stomach, stopping at my mound. Every nerve sizzles. I suck in air like I’ve sprinted up Mount Everest and tremble from head to toe. My muscles coil into knots.
This is exquisite torture.
He stands upright and commands, “Open your legs for me, baby girl,”
Ohmygosh!
I’ve never let a man look at me down there. Even my doctor is a female. I’m not sure I can do it. Yet, at the same time, those parts ache to be stroked. And letting him see makes me feel so wicked and naughty.
I slide my thighs apart slightly. My stomach clenches.
“Wider.” His voice vibrates through my body, making me quiver.
I spread wider.
“You’re so beautiful,” he whispers. His breath cools my burning skin. A kiss tickles the inside of my thigh and
I shiver. He grabs my ankles and pulls until my ass is practically hanging off the bed. Then he lifts one leg and pushes it back, opening me as wide as I can be. “Do you taste like honey?” he asks.
I suck in a lungful of air. I know what’s coming. Know…
He parts my folds and I tremble. I’ve never been so exposed. Or so desperate for relief. He leans down and drags his tongue from my entrance up to my throbbing clit, and all the air blasts from my lungs. “Yes,” he murmurs before doing it again. “Honey.” He releases my ankle and uses both hands to spread my swollen lips apart. “You are going to cum for me,” he tells me.
Such dirty words. Wickedly dirty. I quiver. My inner walls clench and another gush of heat rushes to my pussy. He flicks his tongue over my clit and I writhe and tremble. With every little flick, a spark ignites in my body and sizzles through me. I am in absolute agony.
I reach down and grab two hands full of his hair. Still he doesn’t stop his assault on my burning pussy. His tongue dances on my clit now, firing my nerves and making me burn from head to toe. Again and again and again.
My muscles tighten.
My blood pounds.
My heart slams against my breastbone.
My insides clench.
I need a cock.
Inside me.
Now.
“Please,” I whisper.
But he doesn’t take mercy on me. No. Instead he shoves my thighs wider apart and plunges his tongue into my channel.
Something inside me explodes and I see stars. Whoosh, the most exquisite pleasure blasts through my whole body, blowing out the top of my head and the soles of my feet. My insides spasm, rhythmically milking what would be a cock, if he had made love to me. I tremble and shake and quake, my eyes clamped shut, the image of his satisfied smile frozen in my mind.
Will any of this beautiful fantasy ever come true?
Will I ever kiss him again?
Will I ever feel his touch?
Or won’t I?
6
Kelsey
The holidays suck.
Almost everyone goes home for Thanksgiving. Including Madison.
But not me.
I’ve gone with Madi in the past. But it felt weird. Her parents were fighting the whole time. And her brother was a total jerk.
Yeah, one Thanksgiving with Madi’s family was enough for me.
Why don’t I go home?
Simple. There’s no home to go to, that’s why.
Mom is in jail. Again. Still.
She’s been there most of my life, in and out on drug charges. Burglary. Embezzlement. Forgery. The list goes on.
And on.
And on.
Dad is…well, I have no idea. The fact is I don’t know the identity of my dad. I don’t even know his first name. Nothing. I don’t think my mom knows.
There’s always been just Mom and me. When I was little and she was in jail, I stayed with my grandparents, her parents.
But I can’t stay with them anymore. They’re both dead. They perished way too young. From heartbreak. At least that’s what I think. Because of what their one and only daughter became. An addict and criminal.
So, the last three years I haven’t had any family to go home to. The last two years, I’ve enjoyed (note the eye-roll) the cafeteria’s Thanksgiving dinner, along with the other students who stuck it out at school.
This year is going to be different. Thanks to my job, I can buy myself a decent meal at a restaurant in downtown Blaxmore. Steak. Potato. Salad. It won’t be turkey, but who cares? To me a steak dinner is way more special than turkey anyway.
Besides, Thanksgiving is just another day. Nothing extraordinary.
No, I take that back. Thanksgiving is the day that reminds me how alone I am in this world. Is it any wonder I don’t want to celebrate it?
Wearing no makeup, a Twenty-One Pilots t-shirt, and leggings, I pull on a beanie to hide my messy hair and stomp into my fave boots. It’s unseasonably warm for late November, but still wet and chilly. And I have a long walk ahead of me.
I grab Madi’s North Face jacket from her closet to keep me warm, shrug into it, stuff my cash into the pocket, along with my keys, and head out.
Time for a nice, fattening meal of seared cow flesh. Yum.
It’s early. Just after noon. I figure I’ll have an early dinner and then binge watch the Game of Thrones. I’m several seasons behind.
I clomp down the road toward the restaurant, my mouth watering at the thought of a juicy steak. I can’t remember the last time I had steak. It has been many, many years.
The wind is brisk, cutting through the bare tree limbs and making my nose drip like a leaky faucet. I turn onto Main Street, glad I’m no longer walking against the wind. Gray, gloomy clouds make my surroundings look bleak. But on I go, eager to get out of the cold and into a warm, toasty restaurant.
As I’m passing the hardware store in downtown, a car slows and honks. Totally taken by surprise, I look.
I know that car. Intimately.
It’s the old car. From a certain professor’s garage.
My insides quiver.
Dr. Conners’ old car rumbles up to the curb and he rolls down the window.
I stroll up to it.
“You didn’t go home for the holiday?” he asks.
“Nope.” I motion in the general direction of my destination. “I had a better offer.”
He cocks a brow. “Oh?”
“Yep,” I say with a smile. “I can’t pass up a big, fattening steak dinner.”
He purses his lips and nods. You know, when he does that, all I can think about is how scrumptious they taste. And what wicked things they do. “Okay. I just wanted to make sure you weren’t alone.”
“Actually, I am,” I admit, hoping he’ll solve that minor issue. Maybe I’m being silly, basically letting myself look pathetic. But hey, I’m only human. Humans need companionship.
When I made my plans, the last thing I had imagined was running into Dr. Conners. Now that he’s here, talking to me, I’m happy to keep talking. Who could blame me, am I right? Especially considering ever since that night in his garage, he’s been pretty distant. At work he leaves a note on my desk, letting me know what he needs. He doesn’t speak to me in private. At all.
Am I devastated he’s backed off? No. I’ve come to accept it. After all, he is my boss. My hot boss. With a body that inspires my fantasies every night. And he kisses like no man I’ve ever kissed before. But he is my boss and my professor nonetheless. And what we did in his garage was wrong.
“You don’t have any friends to spend the day with?” my hot boss asks.
“All gone.” I shrug. My pride won’t let me look too pathetic. Yes, I’m alone. But really, I’m okay with it. If that’s the way it has to be. “It’s okay. I’m used to spending Thanksgiving alone.”
He clenches his jaw and jerks his head. “Get in.”
Okay, now I feel shitty. I’ve just pulled a Madi, guilt tripping him into an invite. “No, it’s okay. Really.” A chilly gust picks up my hair (what isn’t crammed under the hat) and smacks it over my face. I brush it aside.
“Please. Get in,” he insists.
“Well, since you said ‘please’.” I trot around to the passenger side, slide into the seat, and buckle up. “Where are we going?” I ask, taking a look around. The last time I was in this car was during a thunderstorm. And it was dark. Now that it’s not so dark, I realize this car is old. Really old. But also totally cool. I like it.
“I’m heading to the grocery store for a couple of things I forgot.” He steers away from the curb, poking the radio button as he drives. The car fills with the cheery sounds of Christmas music.
I settle in for the short drive to the store, situated on the western fringe of town. Minutes later we pull into an empty parking lot.
Closed. The store is closed.
Of course the store is closed on Thanksgiving. I should have known it would be. Because it’s Blaxmore, ho
me to more cows than people when school isn’t in session.
“What did you forget to buy?” I ask.
He scowls. “Turkey. Potatoes. Pie. Gravy. You know…”
“Everything?” I finish for him. I swallow a giggle.
“Yeah. I wasn’t going to cook dinner. But I changed my mind this morning…” He shakes his head. “So much for that. Onto Plan B.”
“Which is?”
“Where were you headed?”
“Andy’s Steakhouse. I’ve been told they’re open today.”
“All right. Let’s go check it out.” He turns the car back toward Main Street.
Bing Crosby yodels about snow and mistletoe as we drive. Feeling nostalgic, and a little giddy, I join in.
I’m a horrible singer. But am I embarrassed? Nope. Because I quickly learn Jordan is worse. In fact, he owns his awful voice. And together our terrible voices somehow create a harmony that is so bad it’s kind of good. By the end of the song, we’re laughing our butts off. But the minute we turn into the parking lot, our laughter stops.
I’m not getting a steak today. Andy’s is closed too. The kid who’d told me it would be open was wrong.
We look at each other.
“Plan C?” I suggest. “There’s always the union.”
“No. Absolutely not. We will not be eating boiled turkey and potato flakes today.” Looking determined to keep that promise, Jordan shifts the car into drive and steers back onto the road.
I sit and watch, wondering what he’s thinking, since he vetoed Plan C. I’m glad he insisted on me going with him now. For one thing, Plan C would have been my only option. Yet again. And another: I get to spend some one-on-one time with him, something I haven’t been able to do in months.
Riding in Jordan’s cool old car, chatting about our plans for Christmas break (neither of us have any) and my plans for after graduation (again, undetermined) we troll the main drag through town, searching for any open store or restaurant. We pass a number of gas stations, all open, but I’m assuming even Dr. Conners would rather eat boiled turkey and potato flakes than jerkey and Sour Cream Lays.
After striking out in Blaxmore, Jordan hits the freeway, presumably heading for the next town, which is bigger. We talk the whole way, about everything and nothing. Our favorite songs. My next volunteer project, which I’m really excited about. His family. My grandparents. A half hour later, he parks in front of a dollar store at least ten miles from school and kills the engine. We climb out of the car and head inside.