by Robin Fate
I rolled my hip upward forcing myself in as far as I could go.
"Oh yeah," her voice was low, breathy.
Her fingers found her nipples, she tugged at her rings. She rocked her hips to match mine.
I could feel wetness and her pussy rings at the base of my cock as we slowly fucked. My breathing became heavier.
Hers too.
She leaned forward, looking down at me in the half light. She placed her left arm on the back of the couch and her right foot on the ground next to the sofa. Then slowly withdrew my cock almost all the way out and then slammed her pussy back down. The fingers of her right hand found her clit and she rubbed furiously while thumping down on me again and again. I could hear the sticky collisions over the crackling fire.
I fucked her right back, matching her furious tempo. Her lips were withdrawn baring her teeth. Hot breath flushed my face. Green eyes that sparkled in the firelight were locked onto mine.
My fingers found her nipple rings. I held them in position so that her nipples and tits were pulled by the action of her hips crashing into me.
I'm sure my face was contorted. I struggled for air.
"Fuck!" she screamed, "Yeah!"
I could feel her fingernails working madly at her clit.
Her right leg started to shake. Her whole body trembled.
I kept jamming into her with all my strength. My heart was pounding in my chest. I knew I was going to cum soon.
She pounded down onto my cock and ground down. "Grraauuugh!" she gasped through open mouth. I could feel her muscles clamp down on my cock as her body jerked. She clamped again, "Auughh," she groaned through her exhale. Her forehead glistened in the firelight. Her fingers still worked away as her body jerked again.
My teeth were clenched as I tried to hold off cumming. I knew it was a losing battle. My chest was heaving in need of air.
She slumped forward, "Auugh" she heaved a sigh into my left ear. Her hot breath whistled in my ear. I felt another contraction. Then another. Then one last one.
We were motionless save for our breathing. I could feel her rapidly beating heart racing with mine.
"I'm going to cum," I whispered, barely hanging on.
Only her breath in my ear responded.
I did. Spurt after spurt plunged deep inside her pussy. My hips jerked involuntarily as I came. My voice was reduced to a gurgle of air.
"Ohhhhh!" she gasped pushing down harder as I came, but staying motionless.
"Fuck!" together we huffed.
We lay there hot and sweaty searching for air for a few moments. I could feel my cock, slip inside her as it started to shrink.
"I could feel you," she said as she drew a breath, "coming inside me."
I nodded a hot breath at her.
"I could feel your cock swell." She whispered.
"I'm sure I'm still oozing cum into you," I whispered back, still searching for air.
My cock slipped some more from shrinkage. It was wet and hot in her pussy.
She pushed herself up. Her right hand was on her crotch as my dick slipped out from her and flopped on my pelvis. The fingers on her right hand slipped into her mouth then quickly went back to her pussy.
I was shocked at what I had just seen her do. She did it again. Then again. Before I could react two fingers from her pussy were pushed into my mouth.
"Taste," she said.
I did. I was in even more shock at the unexpected intrusion. It was salty. It tasted of sex.
"I love the taste of Sam Rockwell," she cooed as she dug her fingers deep inside her. After taking one more thorough lick of her fingers she squatted next to me and slipped my glistening cock into her mouth. She licked it clean and sucked on my peehole to make sure it's all out.
Wow! In my wildest dreams, I'd never imagined a girl licking the cum out of her own pussy. Could it be that Emma really enjoyed the taste of cum that much? And what about that 'taste of Sam Rockwell' bit? Was she serious?
"Cuddle me," she said as she lay back on me, which her weight shifted to the back of the couch. She slipped the blanket over us and nuzzled her face into me neck.
"That was nice, thank you Sam," she whispered.
"Thank you Cate." I whispered back as I brushed her back and shoulders under the blanket.
*
We woke up on the couch the next morning, cold and hungry. The freezing rain had stopped but the power was still out. We simply peed, didn't flush, dressed ourselves and jumped into my pick-up truck in search of food and heat.
On the way to Jimmy's Diner we passed a crew of linemen fixing power lines.
By the time we got back, the power was on.
We opened up the shop and went to work as if nothing had happened.
After work that night I thought about Emma as I sat alone eating pork stew and potatoes from the evening before. The food was excellent. We should have been eating together. I wondered if she was pissed off with me. Did I take advantage of my employee? Was I going to lose her?
But what a fuck machine Emma was. I had no idea.
*
Several days passed by. Nothing was said about the night she slept over. Not a hint, not a wink, not a smile. It was as if it never happened.
The phone rang in the shop one afternoon. After the call I went and found Emma. She was in the paint room, dancing and painting.
"They want us to do more work for Whistling Swans."
"Really?"
"Yeah, I've not committed yet. I need to talk to you first."
"Why?"
"Because it's a bunch of work with a finite time-line."
"What is it?"
"Corporate wants the stupid logo on the top rail of their benches."
"We're not making benches."
"I know that. It's the bench manufacturer that called me. He's a friend of mine. That's not true. He's a colleague. We've worked together before. He's actually a bit of a prick."
"So what's the job?"
Sixty one benches. Six grand. I'll split it with you. It's the same jig that we have for the tee-off blocks. We just have to carve, sand and paint. We don't even have to poly. They'll deliver the top rails to us and then they'll pick up when they're all done."
"Sounds great!"
"Yeah, but. They want it next week! He said Wednesday, Thursday the latest. Either way, it's going to be an hour a piece. That's thirty hours each."
"So?"
"We still have to maintain production on all the rest of the stuff. You know that's all very tight."
"So?"
"So...do you want to take on the work? It means we're working the weekend. Plus late nights. This is no joke."
"I realize that. You said you'd split it with me?"
"Yeah, three grand each."
"For thirty hours work?"
"If it's an hour a piece."
"That's a hundred bucks an hour."
"No. It's a hundred bucks a piece." I corrected her.
"I'll have to stay here," she said.
"I know."
"You know what will happen?" she said. She smirked and watched me intently.
"Yeah, every night," I said grinning.
"I am so fucking in on this!" she growled, grinning too.
"Great!"
I called him back and said we'll do it.
"How come it's not sixty one hundred for sixty one benches?" she asked.
"I told you he's a prick."
*
The next morning Emma called to say she'd be an hour late. That was a first. When she arrived she had me help her unload her little black Yaris. She'd been shopping. We stuffed all kinds of things into the fridge and cupboards. She brought a suitcase of clothes.
It was as if she were moving in. I guessed she was in a way.
The bench top rails were delivered that day.
"How come we're not making the sixty one benches?" she asked.
"Because we're not set up for it. We can certainly make one, in fact we can make sixty one but not at the same cos
t that numb-nuts can make them at."
"So why isn't he doing the carving himself?"
"Because he's not set up for it. He can certainly do one, or two or five. But not sixty one. Not at a reasonable cost. He's a wood shaper, we're wood carvers, there's a difference."
"What if we had ten thousand to do? There's got to be an easier way."
"There is. It's called a CNC machine."
"What's that?"
"Computer numerical control, or something like that. It's a machine that's attached to a computer. Fasten down the block hit start."
"Why don't we do that?"
"Well for starters the machines are sixty thousand plus. Then the amount of programming that is required takes you forever. For a straight cut it's not bad, but in 3D bas-relief it's a lot more complex. And in the final analysis, it's not that fast. Perfect copies though, every time."
Snap. "Aaugh!" It broke. She fell.
"Fuuuck!" she screamed.
"No!" I rushed forward. It was too late.
Emma was hanging upside down, firmly attached, by the shoelace loop of her left boot. Her arms hung down, her fingertips were all of maybe an inch off the ground. Her right leg was bent at the knee, hanging by its own weight.
I collapsed in laughter. She reminded me of a Tarot card. The Hanging Man.
She twisted, flexed, bent up, reached, bent up again, twisted again and tried to raise herself again, all to no avail. The sad thing was that had I not been there, Emma would have been in a life threatening situation. Unless she could raise herself up and unhook that boot, she was food for the vultures. I doubted that anyone could hear screams from where we were. Finally she settled herself hanging upside down.
"Sam?" Her face was all red.
"Emma?"
"Can you get me down?"
I paused for a moment.
"I don't think so."
"Douuuug."
"Maybe, but it'll cost 'ya."
She paused.
"I'll suck your cock."
I laughed. "No, you already do that and you love it."
"I'll shave my cunt."
I laughed again, "No, you've already offered to do that."
What a delicious moment.
"Alright Sam, what do you want me to do?"
I couldn't help but laugh. She did look funny hanging there upside down. Completely helpless.
"Ooohh...I dunno."
"Sam!"
"Let me think!"
"Sam!"
"Give me a second."
"Anal sex. You can fuck me in the ass."
I howled with that one. "No. Your ass is mine anyway."
"What do you want?" She was growing desperate.
"Dinner. We'll go out for dinner."
"Dinner?" Her tone expressed her disbelief.
"Yes...but."
"But...what?"
"I get to buy you a new outfit for dinner."
I thought I could read suspicion on her upside down red face.
"What kind of outfit?" she asked carefully.
"A flowery dress and shoes and a purse to match."
"Noooo!" She started to contort, she tried to reach her boot lace, her arms flailed about wildly. She kicked with her free leg.
"And no face metal."
She twisted, she tried to reach for anything. Fighting, she tried to reach up.
"Pink fingernails. Light pink. Girly pink!"
"Noooo!" Her arms thrashed about. Her entire body turned a different shade of red. It was if she was attacked by a swarm of bees. It took a few minutes but she eventually settled down with her arms hanging down, fingertips almost to the ground. Her chest heaved in and out searching for air. Defeated.
"Fuck you," she gasped.
"So is that a yes?"
There were two deep breaths before she hissed, "Yes."
"Oh and one more thing, yes, I'd like your pussy shaved. Bald."
She growled at me.
I clapped my hands together laughing. Oh what fun I was going to have.
I untied her shoelace. She slipped to the ground.
As she stood up I brushed the twigs and leaves off of her and gave her a kiss. "You okay?" I asked.
She smiled and said, "Yeah."
"Are you staying tonight?" I asked. I could hear the apprehension in my voice.
"Only if you want me to Sam."
"Of course I do. I know you bought something funny for dinner. What is it?"
"Nopalitos."
"What the hell's that?"
"Cactus," she said as she picked up her spent beer can and turned to walk down the mountain. She turned after a few steps and said, "Come on let's go."
Did she say cactus? I picked up my beer can and followed her down.
"Do we get early Christian music with that?" I was ribbing her as I walked behind.
She stopped, considered for a second then said, "I've some Gregorian Chants in the Yaris. Only one CD though, but it's two discs."
"I was joking," I said as we continued to make our way down the mountain.
She turned to me and said, "Well I'm not," and then walked off.
What a strange bird, that Emma Progue. How many Goth girls have Gregorian chants in their car?
I came downstairs after my shower, dressed in usual sweats and tee to the sound of monks chanting throughout my house. There was almost an echo happening. I half expected a line of brown robed, hooded little men to shuffle by. I was sure they were somewhere in the house. I checked to make sure the front window wasn't replaced with stained glass.
"What's cookin' good lookin'?" I kissed Emma as I entered the kitchen.
"I told you, cactus," she said and lifted the lid.
"Wow!" it did smell good. I didn't see any needles, but I did see what appeared to be green tomatoes. "What can I do?"
"Set the table, I'm having my shower. Don't let anything burn."
Off she went. The monks and I were left in charge of cooking... of what I didn't know.
There was a sliced onion and a clove of garlic on the cutting board. The rice was out. I picked up a little box she had obviously bought, Achiote Condimentado. What the hell?
She came down from her shower wearing a black knee length skirt and a white blouse. No bra because I could see nipples and nipple rings poking through. Somehow it didn't match the fuzzy pink slippers. She had some eye makeup on too. Black naturally. But not too much.
From the couch where I sat I peered up holding my newspaper in one hand and beer can in the other. Clearly I had a puzzled look on my face.
"It's Sunday night dinner Sam. Are you really going to be dressed in sweatpants and a tee shirt?"
Gulp.
Apparently I set the table wrong. Emma showed me how the plate has to be one inch from the edge of the table, fork on the left, one inch, knife on the right, also one inch, blade towards the plate. Small fork also on the left, outside of the larger one, also one inch from the table edge. Spoon on the right, outside of the knife.
"We won't need teaspoons," she said grinning, "I'll make a gentleman out of you yet."
What the hell?
Maybe it was the Gregorian monks that were mocking me? I went upstairs to change into nice slacks and a long sleeve shirt.
"That's better," she said smiling as I walked into the kitchen.
"Can I do anything to help?"
"You could pour me a glass of wine. White please." She was stirring the rice and slicing a cucumber at the same time.
I drained back the rest of my beer and poured myself a glass of wine too.
"Do you have candles for the table?" she asked.
"I think so," I answered, and went off in search of something that may or may not exist. After a few minutes I found one. It was only slightly burnt. I popped it into a glass candle holder and set it on the table. I found matches too.
"Go on, light it," she said as she walked into the dining room with two salads on small plates. "Do you have trivets, something to protect the table from
hot bowls? We need two."