by Emmie Combs
"The kid was too smart for those men. She laid low and allowed your nephew to dispatch the other two guys, getting a splash as you can see in this photo that would have taken out Steven's right lung and she wiped out Mark with a plumb shot to the belly."
"Yeah, pretty good shooting eh Dottie."
"Better than average. Half the people only get in wing shots. Then your Rambo went after the chick. She lined him up and then took him out, clean as a whistle. You may recall better shooing in our facility but I can't."
"Jesus," Owen said, scratching his bald spot. Ike's face helmet had a paint splash exactly between his eyes, another on his suit over his heart and the third was a direct hit on where his love-making gear could be expected to reside.
"Right, let's expose this babe for what she is, exceptionally lucky. While I get ready you recalled her back into the arena. Just tell her it's just her and me."
Up in the observation gallery Bernadette and Tony were ever so pleased and when they asked how well did she really do, Brad said better than expected.
"Those guys were out to shoot the shit out of everyone. They were easy meat to Ellen who totally out-smarted them using her brain."
Dottie came over to that and hand them special glasses.
"We're about to perform the supreme test here on Ellen. The lights will be turned off but you'll see what they can see with these night vision glasses. The helmets will show up well as the combatants show their heads. Ellen is lime green and Owen's helmet stripes will show as white."
"It doesn't sound very exciting," Bernadette complained.
"It's the ultimate test darling, not a show piece. This is your girl's chance to show if she'd elite material or approaching that class."
Brad asked, "Who's she up against?"
"Owen wants to show her up as being unnaturally lucky so he's going in."
"But that's ridiculous."
Puzzled, Bernadette asked why was that.
Owen is a former Navy Seal. "For the last eight years in the service he was a senior instructor in night in-fighting, meaning unarmed combat and small-arms confrontations. Nothing will happen for a while because they'll both remain stationery, waiting for their opponent to make the first move."
Dottie said, "The terms of engagement are they have fifteen minutes in which to make the kill and survive. It's open slather, all paint ball rules suspended."
Brad added, "You'll see the shots because the balls being used are luminous."
Tony asked had anyone ever taken Owen out in that arena.
Dottie looked at Brad and said, "A handful got lucky. One of them is standing with you guys."
After ten minutes without any sign of action, Bernadette said, "This is boring."
Just then they saw Ellen's helmet show. Owen fired and that shot went over the top of the helmet and the other hit it.
"Fuck," whispered Brad.
"Yeah fuck," snorted Bernadette. "I was hoping Ellen really was elite."
They saw Brad's helmet moving towards when he'd made the kill.
"There are no rules so Ellen is not meant to withdraw. Owen can track her and get in more shots as the paint spats on Ellen's safety helmet will really show up."
The next five minutes went by without any sign of action.
The lights went on and the spectators saw Ellen, without her helmet, wave at the observation level as she walked back in.
"Where's Owen?" Dottie said and then, "Oh god, she's out-smarted and disabled him."
Dottie called into the microphone, "Chris and Donald, go find the boss. He'll be in the southern quadrant."
Two guys ran out and negotiated the bunkers and hills and flanked bushes. They were then seen leaning over presumably Owen in a bunker.
Owen came in livid. "That bitch, where is she. I'll screw her neck. She took off her helmet and suckered me. I got to where her helmet was and too late... she pounced, knocked me to the ground and rammed a foot into my gut severely winding me. She then pulled off her protective pants, jerked down one stocking and smacked me across the face making me see stars and tied my hands behind my back before I realized what day it was. She died my feet with the other stocking and then the bitch left me with her fucking foul panties stuffed in my mouth. Jesus!"
Unfortunately for Owen his listeners were almost rolling in laughter.
"Where the panties really that foul Owen?" Dottie grinned.
"No I only expected them to be. Just the usual women's smell plus a hint of sweat."
"Oh how elegantly you express yourself asshole," said Dottie.
"Are you okay Owen?" Ellen asked, coming from showering and still toweling her hair.
"Yes thank you Super Bitch," Owen said grudgingly.
"Oh Owen, just remember your training. I'm sure you would have had it drummed into you that risk is risk, we are all vulnerable."
Owen walked up to Ellen who braced herself.
He kissed her and Ellen ruffled his hair and whispered, "Sorry."
"Young lady my recommendation for you will be no more assessment, that you go straight into induction training."
Bernadette asked, "Induction training for what?"
"To be trained in lingerie sales," Ellen smiled. "It's tough marketing out therein these difficult economic times and the client requires traveling salespersons who can deal with anything that comes up."
"Well yes, I've seen what can happen at the lingerie racks at the May sales on opening day at my favorite department store," said Bernadette.
* * *
Ellen disappeared from the Street's lives until five years later she visited them again with her domestic partner, Bernadette's brother Brad. Ellen was on pregnancy leave.
"Fancy you two teaming up," Bernadette said. "Not only is there a big age difference between you but Brad you are in nuts and bolts and Ellen I guess you are still in lingerie?"
"Yes but you must understand Bernadette, Brad possesses my favorite nuts and bolt."
The End.
His Girl Thursday
"Don't worry that you weren't able to finish, Maggie, I'm sure Carmen will be happy to take over where you left off."
It was a common line from him. After I'd been on my knees for at least 20, maybe 30 minutes, pleasuring him with my mouth and hands, he'd abruptly cut me off, reaching for my hand and pulling me to my feet. I'd fume for just a moment and glare at him, but he'd win me over with his sexy smile and a spectacular kiss, and then he was off.
If John weren't the single most charming man I'd ever met, I told myself, I'd never put up with it. But he was. He was intelligent, funny, interesting, not to mention attractive. My god, he was sexy. And confident, the kind of confidence that made those around him feel somehow more important just by virtue of talking with him. Not only did I not mind our peculiar relationship, it was actually a turn-on for me.
We'd met several years earlier, becoming good friends when we worked for the same company. I had since moved on to a job elsewhere, but we'd stayed in touch, and our friendship had blossomed into something more. Not quite a normal romantic relationship, mind you, but certainly an, um, unique relationship. Over the years, I'd shared things with him I'd never shared with anyone, and I think I served a similar role in his life - someone he could confide in, someone with whom he'd share pretty much anything. And I do mean anything.
I should explain that John had insatiable appetites. To put it bluntly, he could never get enough head; he longed to have a beautiful woman sucking him off at least once a day, preferably multiple times. And he was charismatic enough to attract multiple women at any one time who were more than happy to serve his needs. He always had a steady girlfriend, but in addition, several other women in his life, myself included. And luckily for him, along with his undeniable charm, he also possessed a steel-trap mind capable of keeping track of all of these relationships with ease. He never forgot a name, never missed a date, and most importantly, never got caught.
None of these other women knew about each other; I was the only one w
ho heard all the stories. It had all started a couple of years back, because of the way in which he shared everything with me. At first, I think he was worried that I'd judge him, counsel him to straighten up and fly right, commit to just one girl. Instead, much as I tried at first, I couldn't hide my excitement, my desire to hear more and more of the stories he so obviously wanted to share. And once our relationship crossed the line into all things sexual, and he realized how much I enjoyed hearing about his experiences with other women - well, let's just say, there was no stopping him.
He loved watching the look on my face as he described what he liked most about each of them, their bodies, their technique when it came to sucking his cock. He took great pleasure in taunting me any time I would gag as he forced his cock deep into my throat: "Carmen has no trouble deep-throating me, you know..."
His girlfriend, Carmen, worked out-of-state, flying in each weekend to be with him. Although he often expressed to me how much he missed her during the week, I knew the schedule suited him just fine, as it gave him the flexibility to meet up with the other members of his harem, as we jokingly called them, on a regular basis.
There were two at the office - both of whom I remembered from my time there. There was Katie, a cute blonde secretary of about 25, and April, a member of the sales team most memorable for her absolutely perfect tits. Neither knew anything about the other's relationship with John, although as I knew from his stories, there had been days when they'd both sucked him off, within hours of each other.
Then was Jenny, a 22-year-old hottie he'd met at the gym, with whom he met up every Tuesday night for a few hours of hot sex. Apparently, they'd meet up after working out, walk the few blocks to her apartment, and, well, work out again. She apparently loved to talk dirty to him, a challenge he loved to throw in my face when I might be a little reluctant.
Kylie was the 19-year-old barista he'd seduced after a series of visits to the drive-through coffee stand on his drive to work. He saw her every morning, but it was Wednesdays when they'd arranged a regular rendezvous - she was able to schedule her break to coincide with his visit, when he'd pull in behind the coffee stand, she'd jump into his truck, and suck him off. Ah, if only he'd reward me with a mouth full of cum after just a few minutes - but, more about that later...
I should really mention at this point that John is 41. I know, I know, you're thinking he's the luckiest man in the world. But as I've explained, luck has nothing to do with it; he's got the talent to pull it off. Oh, and you probably thought I was done. But there's one more woman in his life. That's right, seven in all.
The latest is Sarah, a college student who lives in his building, two floors up. They'd met - you guessed it - on the elevator. After a series of chance encounters, they'd stopped to talk in more detail, discovered that they liked to watch the same show on Monday nights, and before he knew it, John had a standing date to visit her each week, bringing wine and flowers in exchange for head. He was worried she was falling for him - every once in a while, one of the women in his life would cause him some stress by getting a little too clingy - but he kept her in check by never giving her more than just the one evening per week.
No matter how many of these stories I'd heard, I still hung on his every word as he described each new conquest. There was seemingly no young woman who wouldn't succumb to his charms, no hottie he couldn't obtain, at least for a few casual encounters. If I hadn't experienced his charms myself, I probably wouldn't believe it.
Thursdays were my day with John. Don't get me wrong - we talked fairly regularly on the phone, and occasionally went out casually with old friends. But Thursdays were our standing date for sex. Our work schedules coincided so that we both got off early that day, and we had regular plans to meet up at my apartment. Although he'd often be there for hours, it was always with the understanding that he'd have to head home at something close to a respectable hour, to clean up his place and get some sleep before Carmen was home for the weekend. But we made the most of our time.
This particular Thursday night, I brought John a glass of wine and studied his features for a moment as I sat down next to him on the sofa. As I'd noticed many times before, his attractiveness came from a combination of rugged strength and calm gentleness. His blue eyes were penetrating but sweet, his smile was always genuine, his body was fit and muscular, his jaw strong, and his demeanor completely confident and relaxed.
When my eyes caught his, I saw that he was studying me as well. I took a sip of wine, then set down the glass and soaked in the attention as his eyes moved over my body. I reached up to my hair to release it from the clip that had held it up for the work day, and my long blonde waves cascaded down around my shoulders.
"Take off your blouse."
I did as I was told, my eyes never leaving his.
"And your skirt."
I unzipped my skirt, slithered out of it, and tossed it to the floor next to the sofa. I was now sitting before him, in matching black lace bra and panties, as he began stroking his cock through his slacks.
"Do I have to do everything, or are you going to get over here and get to work?"
Our banter was familiar, a constant play of dominance and submission, of master and naughty cock-sucking slut, which never seemed to grow old for me. I quickly scrambled across the sofa and knelt between his legs, the wetness growing between mine as I unzipped his slacks and began fondling him through his boxers.
"So," he said just as I had freed his cock and pulled it into my mouth, "have I told you that Jenny's gotten just as good as Carmen at deep-throating me?"
He wasn't fully erect yet, so I had no problem keeping his entire cock buried in my mouth, my nose pressed against his torso, but I took his words as a challenge to remain there even as he continued to grow. He knew I occasionally strained, gagging when he forced his hard cock down my throat, and never hesitated to rub it in that there were women - women he'd seen just the day before - who could deep throat him with no problem.
I knew that I had other talents, though, and began fondling his balls in his favorite rhythm. Unfortunately for me, that just brought him to his full size even faster, and soon I gagged and had to pull away a bit. As I tried to bring my hand up to clutch his shaft, he grabbed it, pulled it away, and pushed me down once again with his other hand.
I gagged once again before finally relaxing and allowing my throat to accept his bulging cock. Not to state the obvious, but in addition to John's other talents, he had the sexiest cock I'd ever seen. He was about 7-8 inches when erect, not the biggest ever, but the perfect size to fill an eager pussy, the perfect size to fill my mouth to capacity. And in spite of my occasional struggles to take his full length deep into my throat, I did love to suck cock. After all, John and I would undoubtedly have parted ways long ago if I didn't.
"Good girl," he said as he let me up for air. "Now, just use your hands, and look up at me. I want to see your big blue eyes as you touch me. Tell me what a little slut you are."
"I'm such a naughty little slut. I love to suck your cock and make you cum all over my tits."
"Oh, so you think you can make me cum tonight, huh?"
"Absolutely, if you let me!"
"All over your tits, you said? Well, we'd better take a look at those, see if they're ready for such a precious gift. Have I told you how absolutely perfect April's tits are?"
"Once or twice."
I continued to gently stroke his cock and balls as he reached down and unhooked my bra, tossing it aside after it fell from my skin. He cupped my breasts, one in each hand, aggressively pinching my nipples, causing me to moan in pleasure as I once again took his cock into my mouth.
"You know, Maggie, there's nothing like the enthusiasm of a young working girl, eager to please, jumping into the passenger seat of my pickup to suck me off."
"Working girl?" I asked, pulling away from his cock long enough to humor him, pretending for a moment to believe that he'd picked up a hooker.
"Sure, you know, the barista?"<
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"Ah, right."
"So much enthusiasm. Like she really wants it. Not a pitiful effort like yours."
Soon after he'd discovered that hearing about other women turned me on, triggered my competitive nature, he'd also discovered that I enjoyed a little discipline. I knew enough to take the hint, and went back to work on his cock, bobbing up and down quickly on the tip as I stroked his shaft with one hand and fondled his balls with the other.
"Don't let it out of your mouth, Maggie, no matter what!"
His words hinted that he would begin challenging my physical ability to keep his cock buried in my mouth. He grabbed my hair in his hands, wrapping it around his fingers, pulling it tight, before finally using it to pull me away, as I fought to keep him inside, his tip between my lips.
"Good girl, Maggie, keep it up, like you really want it!"
He pulled my hair even tighter now, and I whimpered in pain, but he was letting me move freely once again, and I eagerly took in his entire length once more, the lack of air and fighting against my gag reflex nothing compared to the moment of pain he'd just inflicted on my scalp.
He now shifted his attention once again to my breasts, squeezing my nipples to the point of pain, as I squealed in pleasure, panting as I continued to suck him off. A few moments later, his hands gently rested on my jaw bone, as he considerately massaged and kneaded, simultaneously encouraging my rhythm on his cock and helping me to relax as I worked to pleasure the man with superhuman stamina.
Suddenly, one hand left my cheek and found my ass in a sharp slap. Against my better judgement, I pulled away, looking up at him. Even though I was familiar with his touch, aware that discipline was always a possibility, he still had the ability to surprise me. It was as if we were riding the seesaw between pleasure and pain. I might be expecting a regular cycle, back and forth, between the two - but occasionally he'd just hop off and let my ass slap against the ground.
"What's taking you so long, anyway? When I meet up with Katie or April at work, they're able to get me off in just a few minutes. What do you think, do they just want it more, or is it a matter of talent?"