Letting his shorts slide down his hips, he fell to his knees, letting the fabric be a barrier between his skin and the dirty plastic floor. His face nuzzled between my breasts. I debated not wearing the dress because I couldn’t wear a bra, but I was glad now I decided to go without.
“I knew you weren’t wearing a bra, you ‘little minx,” he murmured against my breast, then stuck his tongue out to tease my now freed nipple. I couldn’t contain my moan. He knew exactly how to lick and suck to get me to say and do whatever he wanted.
“Do you like it when I don’t wear one?” I teased, running my hand through his short blonde hair.
Releasing my nipple from his mouth, he moved to the other. “Yeah. It’s hot. Brazen of you to do it around so many family members.”
“The floral print hides when I’m excited for you,” I rasped. “I didn’t think anyone would notice.”
He nipped my areola, causing me to yelp then kissed it gently. “I can always tell.”
Both of his palms grasped the outsides of my thighs, massaging upward and hiking the bottom half of my dress to my hips. “I see you're still wearing panties though. Good choice,” he groaned, examining the lacy black fabric the best he could in the dim, flickering light. Just as his tongue ran along the hem of the top of the lace, a pounding on the door caused us both to jump.
“I gotta go!” A voice, loud and clear rang out.
Colt and I stared at each other, then he shrugged, pulling the crotch of my panties to the side.
“Colt, we should stop and let them use the bathroom,” I whispered.
His brows pinched together. “There’s over a dozen of these things. They can use another one.” Before I could argue, his mouth found my mound.
My breath hitched as the coolness of his tongue delved into my folds, searching for the sensitive nub. Ignoring the pounding on the door was easier to do when Colt began fucking me with his tongue.
When he hiked my leg over his shoulder, I let out a squeal, terrified I was going to fall, but grabbed his shoulders for leverage.
“I’ve gotta take a SHIT!” The owner of the pounding hand screamed.
“Be out in a minute,” Colt’s muffled voice shouted between my legs. The way he shouted caused me to moan, the vibration of him shouting a brand new sensation.
Colt noticed, I liked it. “There’s other Porta-Johns,” he shouted between licks and sucks. I groaned louder, beginning to grind against his face, loving the sensation.
“NO THERE AIN’T! GET THE FUCK OUT!”
My legs were quivering, my breast feeling heavy and needy as they bounced from my humping his face, wanting Colt’s mouth to be devouring them in the same way he was devouring my pussy.
“ONE. MORE. MINUTE,” Colt groaned into my core.
And I came, flooding his face with my arousal, clawing at his back through his shirt for leverage. He nuzzled between my legs, enjoying my powerful orgasm.
Removing my leg from his shoulder, he stood, keeping one arm around my waist. “Fuck, it’s going to be more than one minute,” he breathed, pulling his cock out of his boxers and rubbing it against my soaking heat, then plunging inside.
“FIVE MINUTES!” I shouted while my orgasm spasmed around his thick cock, greedily wanting to swallow him whole.
“Damn,” Colt said through clenched teeth, grabbing my ass and lifting me completely off the ground. “Yeah, that’s it,” he groaned. I squeezed my arms around his shoulders. He was controlling how I slid up and down his cock with his strong arms. His strength was sexy, and turned me on even more, another orgasm building with intensity.
“Give me your tits,” he mumbled.
I arched my back, allowing his mouth access to suck and nibble. I groaned, loving he was meeting all of my needs at once.
And in a gross, smelly, Porta-John.
I must be in love.
“I’M GONNA GET SECURITY,” the owner of the continually pounding hand threatened.
“We’ll be out when you get back with them,” Colt murmured, thrusting his hips upward at a faster pace. “Baby, I don’t know how long I can last,” he apologized, switching his mouth to my other nipple.
“Me either,” I grunted, finding a new way to grind with him where my clit rubbed against his pelvis.
The pounding on the door had stopped, but the fireworks still boomed, and just like when fireworks reached their peak, Colt was about to do the same.
After three more quick thrusts, he lifted his head from my breasts, his eyes rolling back as he filled me with his seed. The hot spurts pushed me over the edge, clenching furiously, demanding more and more of his hot heat.
Our breaths mingled as our orgasms simmered. Colt slowly pulled me off his cock, setting me on two wobbly feet. My hands gripped the back of his head, pulling his mouth to mine.
Then pounding came back, causing us to separate our lips. We both rolled our eyes, but then furrowed them. The pounding wasn’t coming from the door, but from the back of the Porta-John.
“What the?” Colt said, keeping his arms snugly around my waist. Then it pounded again, and again, and the whole Porta-John started to move. We lost our footing, but quickly gained it to try and get our clothing back in order.
“What is going on?” I said in a hushed whisper, straightening my dress and trying to tie the halter. Colt’s stance was wide as he pulled up his shorts, fumbling with his belt.
Then one more bang on the back was more than we could handle, both of us falling into the door.
“AHHH!” I shouted. Not from falling, but from the sticky substance attached to the side of the Porta-John.
Colt gained his balance again, reaching for me with concern, but as he reached for me, he unlatched the door, causing it to open, both of us losing our balance and falling out of the door.
He was on top of me, his belt still not buckled, and my dress still not tied in the back.
My eyes found the bottom of his chin, and the horror in his eyes at whatever he was looking at. Tilting my head, I saw two pairs of feet, one in boots and a set of worn down ankles between metal rods, the blasts of fireworks causing the old skin to change different shades of blue and red.
Scrambling, we both came to our feet, fixing ourselves as fast as lightning in front of the security guard and older woman with a walker.
“Not to break things up, but the handicap Porta-John is meant for handicap individuals, not horny couples.”
“Sorry, sir,” Colt apologized, throwing out his hand. The security guard raised a brow at him, and only shook his head, refusing to take his hand. Colt flushed, realizing how dirty it was from touching the bottom of the Porta-John.
“It’s about time you finished!” The older woman shouted, her glasses dangling on the edge of her nose. “No reason you can’t do that in a regular Jon!”
“I’m so sorry, ma’am,” I apologized, but was distracted by the Porta-John beginning to move again. All four of us looked at each other with furrowed brows, then followed the security guard behind the Porta-John.
My eyes widened as my stomach lurched. “Uncle Jesse?”
Sure enough, my uncle was pounding my aunt against the dirty plastic, shaking the whole Porta-John in the process.
Colt’s jaw dropped while I covered my mouth.
The security guard rolled his eyes. “Jesus Chirst, I should’ve known y’all were related. Finish up and get the fuck out of here,” he scolded, then went back to the old woman on the other side of the Porta-John.
My aunt and uncle didn’t stop, only nodded for us to leave.
As soon as the initial shock wore off, Colt and I sprinted away from them and back to his truck, the finale booming loudly and rapidly behind us.
Colt stared at me while he caught his breath then started laughing. “That was fucking awkward.”
The End
* * *
About the Author
Brooke Page is a contemporary romance author who loves writing romantic suspense novels that will lead her
readers through twists and turns with each page. She wants her readers to feel like they are a part of the thrill, making their hearts race from not only passion but also the intensity of the story.
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Trick My Treat
Carey Heywood
*This tale continues the story of Sasha and Matt. They were introduced in the first F*cking Awkward anthology*
“Should we get fancy with the drinks?”
Matt blinks. “Fancy drinks?”
“You know, like red shots we serve in medicine droppers. Or green drinks we call witches brew.”
He tugs my laptop from me and sets it on the coffee table in front of us. “You’re overthinking this, babe.”
My hands fidget as I restrain myself from grabbing my laptop so I can keep pinning party ideas. “I want this party to be amazing.”
It’s Halloween today, but since it’s a weekday our party isn’t until this weekend. That means I should be able to pick up stuff on clearance tomorrow.
“It will be, with or without themed drinks. Why are you stressing out about it?”
“I get I’m being silly, but it’s the first party we’re hosting together, as a couple. I want it to be special.”
“It’s not the drinks or the decorations that’s going to do that, Sasha. The only thing that matters is that our friends are here.”
“Are you sure?” I ask, relief settling over me.
He tugs me onto his lap and kisses my neck. “All I want for Halloween is to trick in your treat.”
“Trick in my treat? That doesn’t even make—”
Matt silences me with a kiss.
Then he goes about demonstrating exactly what he means by tricking my treat.
“Oh God. Yes. Yes. Right. Oh fuck. Right there.”
My body tightens right before my climax hits. Matt’s hands are vice grips on my hips as he continues to pump into me.
I reach up to cup his jaw. I still get awestruck every once in a while that this sexy-as-hell man is mine. He turns his face toward my palm and nips at my thumb. I push it into his mouth and he holds it between his teeth, his tongue hot and wet against the pad of it.
It doesn’t hurt, Christ, it’s so fucking hot I involuntarily spasm around his dick. What was that, an orgasm echo?
He smirks, having felt it and somehow managing to look even sexier doing it than he did before. Tugging at my wrist, he frees my thumb, and I reach up with my other hand to hook him around the neck. I pull him down to my waiting lips.
As we kiss, I can’t help but get sentimental.
Who would have thought a disastrous one-night stand could turn into an amazing relationship? For us, it did. He claims that by me puking on him, while his cock was still inside me, I was endearingly unforgettable. This one-in-a-million man took the most mortifying moment of my life and made it into something sweet.
Having only had one epically horrible serious relationship before Matt, his reaction, had it been mean, could have scarred me for life. Instead, he took care of me.
He does tease me from time to time, but in fairness, my reaction to blood is extreme. I just can’t help it.
Thankfully, it’s only real blood that I freak out over. The stuff on TV and in movies never bothered me, and strangely, neither does my own blood. I guess that’s a good thing, or I’d spend every one of my periods throwing up the whole time.
Matt moves one hand from my hip to the back of the sofa. His next stroke is the perfect balance of deep and hard. I groan against his mouth. There’s a serious possibility I’m going to come again.
Matt has some mega skills. First and foremost, he tries to makes sure I come at least once before he does. On the very few occasions that he beats me to the big O, he’s gone down on me afterward, not stopping until I get mine.
It’s not often, but it’s not completely unheard of for me to come twice before he does. It seems like today might be one of those magical days. I reach up to pinch my nipple because, you know, team work.
He does not miss this. “You close again, baby?”
It is such a turn on when he speaks against my lips.
“Yeah,” I pant in response.
My hand moves to slip under his shirt so I can stroke his back. I have to bite back a laugh that we’re both still almost fully dressed.
Normally, we have sex in the bedroom, but since I moved in, we’ve been having fun christening rooms. Right now it seems we’re sanctifying the living room.
Something about that made us in too much of a hurry to undress. That’s why my panties are pushed to the side, my skirt is pooled around my waist, and my top is pulled down enough to expose my bra. Matt is even less uncovered.
His jeans are undone and his boxers are pushed down only far enough to free his cock.
His lips claim mine again. It’s clear he is all about trying to get me off a second time. All for that plan, I wedge my arm between us to rub my clit.
He pushes deep, grinding against me at the end of his downward stroke. God, that feels amazing. My fingers circle faster, I’m so close.
“Are you going to knock?” a voice asks from outside the door.
It’s faint, but loud enough to make Matt pause mid thrust and cock his head to the side.
“Why would I knock when Matty gave me a key?” another voice replies, this one feminine.
This is followed by the very distinct sound of a key being turned in the lock.
Aiming horrified wide eyes down at me, Matt hisses, “My parents.”
He reaches for a throw blanket, covering us as the door swings open.
Oh fuck. Oh God. Oh fuck. Oh God.
“Matty, honey. What on earth are you doing?” a woman I’m assuming is his mom asks from the doorway.
With my mouth hanging open, I can only stare up at Matt and the blanket that covers both of us.
His eyes close and he softens inside me before he speaks. “Mom, Dad, I need you both to go back into the hallway for a minute and shut the door.”
“Why on earth would we—”
His dad cuts off his mother. “Come on, Joan. You heard him.”
“But I don’t understand what he’s doing under that blanket. Matty, what are you doing?”
“Joan,” his dad snaps. “He’s not alone.”
Matt drops his forehead to my shoulder. There’s the sound of footsteps leaving paired with the annoyed mutters of his mother as to why they have to wait in the hall.
Once the door closes behind them, I ask, “Did that really just happen?”
He nods, shifting off of me. “I am so sorry. I never should have given her a key.”
“Does she do this often?” I whisper.
His cringe is response enough.
Hurriedly, we both straighten our clothes and try to look somewhat presentable. It’s hopeless though; we’re both wrinkled and rumpled to hell.
“I can’t meet your parents like this,” I hiss, looking at our clothes.
He gives me a nervous smile. “We don’t have much choice in the matter, baby.”
He pulls me into a hug and kisses the top of my head before releasing me and moving toward the door.
His mom and dad know about me, but since they live over two hours away, we haven’t officially met before now. I nervously run my hand over my hair again, hoping it’s not ridiculously obvious that we were having sex.
God, his parents walked in on us having sex. What are they going to think of me?
“Mom, Dad, this is Sasha.” Matt quickly moves back to my side. “Sasha, this is my mom Joan and my dad Howard.”
“Hi Mr. and Mrs. Clark,” I reply,
reaching my hand out to his mom.
She scrunches her nose as our palms meet. Warmth hits my cheeks.
“It’s nice to meet you, Sasha. I’m so sorry we didn’t call first. Your mother wanted to surprise you two and take you out to dinner to celebrate,” his father says, offering me his hand.
His shake is less mortifying than his wife’s. It was as if I could feel her disapproval through her skin, whereas Matt’s dad only seems amused.
I want to escape. Problem is, I live here now, so it’s not like I could say I was going home. It’s no shock that Matt senses how uncomfortable I am. He tucks me close to his side, his arm going around my shoulders.
“So, you kids must have worked up an appetite,” his dad remarks with a smirk.
I stiffen, whatever comfort Matt’s hold offered lost.
“Dad, come on,” Matt groans.
His mom’s eyes stay locked on me. There is much in her gaze, none of it good. Any chance I had of making a good impression is long gone. I will forever be the girl she walked in on her son having sex with. Even worse, it was in broad daylight in the living room.
By her looks, this is clearly unacceptable and has skyrocketed me right to floozy status. With a hand to her back, his dad encourages her toward the door.
Once their backs are to us, Matt turns to face me. “I am so sorry.”
“Your mom hates me,” I whisper-hiss.
He shakes his head. “No, she’s just like that. She’s probably pissed that her surprise didn’t work out the way she wanted to.”
Pressing my lips together, I give him a look that says I don’t agree. He glances toward our open door and then back at me before pressing his lips to the side of my head.
Then, urging me forward, he says, “Let’s go.”
We pile into the backseat of his parents’ car. They are familiar enough with the area to drive without direction to one of Matt’s favorite restaurants.
His mom is pointedly silent during the ride. Any direct questions sent her way she non-answers with a ‘hmpf’ sound.
Each ‘hmpf’ has me sliding my gaze to Matt. Before he can school his expression, I see him cringe.
F*CKING AWKWARD HOLIDAYS: 25 Short Stories of Awkward Holiday Encounters Page 8