by Violet Blue
There’s a knock on the window. I groan and sit up, woozy from the preorgasmic sensations. There it is again, more insistent this time. I sigh. In this business, the customer always comes first.
How bloody ironic.
I tug my skirt back down over my legs and straighten my hat. Stumbling up off the floor, I dash over to the window and slide it open.
It’s Luke. “Hey, gorgeous. I heard the music and I thought you were open….”
Hell, I’d forgive him anything. “Sure. What do you fancy?” A kiss, a grope, a seriously good fuck in the van?
Luke tilts his head and looks thoughtful. “I’m after something a bit indulgent….”
“Yeah, like what?” I lean over the counter, breath held, expectant.
Luke leans in to meet me. “Something soft and juicy with a hint of cream.” He runs his gaze over my body. “Do you have anything like that?”
There’s no mistaking the hint. His eyes, his words—his whole manner says, fuck me. My head fills with all kinds of naughtiness. Who am I to deny this hot customer his wish? I run my fingers over the counter, a coy smile on my face. “I think I know what you’re after, but I’ll have to serve it to you in the back of the van…”
Luke meets my gaze. “Sounds perfect.”
My fingers fumble as I slide the window shut for the second time. I know I risk losing my job with all these impromptu closures, but one look at Luke’s luscious red lips and there’s no going back. I can’t get to the back of the van fast enough.
I open the door. Luke stands in front of me, all manly and oozing sexuality. The filthy look on his face gets me right to the core. I can’t resist. Doing a quick check for onlookers, I grab hold of his T-shirt and pull him into the van. Luke slams the door closed behind us. In the compact space, his brawny body looks even bigger, even more enticing. Moving closer, he puts his arm around my waist and edges me back against the freezers. “So, this special indulgence…”
With a cheeky smile, I slide the zipper down on my top. “It’s all right here—help yourself….”
Luke’s eyes sparkle as my tits spill out into his hands. “Mmm, just as I pictured, two big scoops of ice cream.” He runs his fingers around their contours, his rough hands surprisingly sexy against my skin. “Topped off with a couple of pert raspberries.” He flicks his thumbs over my nipples. “And what’s this?” Luke slides his hand under the hem of my skirt and cups my wet pussy. “A generous smothering of cream…”
I moan and thrust my crotch into his palm. The guy’s a whiz with the sex talk, but any more of this teasing and I’ll go crazy. I tilt his chin up to face me. “Just quit with the sweet talk and shut up and eat me.”
Luke chuckles. “Yes, ma’am.” Whipping off my panties, he grabs my ass and sets me down on top of the freezers. Kneeling between my spread thighs, he lifts my legs over his shoulders and buries his face in my pussy.
I gasp. The kinky display he put on earlier was no smoke screen—the guy is as good as his promise. Looking up at me with those deep gray eyes, he rolls his tongue over my slit in long slow strokes before spearing it into my cunt. I wriggle, enjoying the contrast of the cold freezers against my ass and his hot tongue in my pussy. Luke slides his hands over my thighs and trails his tongue over my clit, starting a heady rhythm over the tip. I grip the edge of the freezers and groan. He’s putting on a show again—only this time it’s me that he’s eating. I rock my hips to meet him as he licks, sucks and fucks me with his mouth. He pushes first one finger, then another into my cunt to add to the thrill. I whimper and run my fingers through his hair. He’s misplaced on that building site; his talent belongs here, eating pussy.
As he continues to nuzzle and suck me, I get tingles all over my body. Luke flicks his tongue faster, coaxing me to orgasm. Oh, yeah, here it is. I grab a handful of his hair and clench my thighs as I come in his face.
Luke looks up at me with those dark eyes and licks the juice from my pussy. He trails his fingers over my slit one last time before placing my legs back down onto the floor and getting to his feet. Meeting my gaze, he slides his fingers one after the other into his mouth to lick off my juices. Then he leans back against the wall, a satisfied smile on his face. “Thanks for that, Cassie, I really enjoyed it.”
This time there’s no reticence in my reply. “Yeah, so did I.” I gaze at him, the hot, burly builder with the tongue from heaven, and I feel excitement build all over again. My gaze dips lower and I see his thick cock tenting his shorts and I can’t let him go. Not yet. Not without a taste of him.
I push myself up off the freezers and sidle toward him. “That was great, but I think we forgot something….”
Luke tips his head.
I grab a bottle of chocolate sauce off the side. “What good’s an ice cream without a nice juicy topping…” Before he can move, I drop to my knees and whip his shorts down to his ankles. Luke looks down at me, surprised. Hooking my hands in the waistband of his boxers, I drag them down over his thighs, he steps out of shorts and boxers, and I toss them both aside. The look in Luke’s eyes grows more serious. Released from its constraints, his cock springs forward into my face. I kneel level with it, admiring the sight—hard and thick, it’s a thing of beauty.
I lick my lips. I’m going to enjoy this.
Luke groans and shifts his weight back against the wall as I drizzle sauce over his cock. Tossing the bottle onto the counter, I kneel back to examine my handiwork. Chocolate-covered cock: I like it. I lean in and flick my tongue over his shaft, lapping up the sexy sauce. Luke’s face contorts. He bucks his hips, trying to drive himself into my mouth. “Patience,” I whisper. I stroke his balls and lick the head of his cock, taking time to tease him. But my resolve doesn’t last long—he’s far too tasty to toy with. Wrapping my lips around the tasty treat, I swallow him.
Luke groans. I pump my head up and down over his prick taking him deeper and deeper, the taste of chocolate and his salty flesh mingling in my mouth. I gaze up at Luke’s agonized expression and there’s no stopping me. Down on my knees on the van floor, my skirt still rucked up around my waist, I suck on his huge prick, getting hotter and hornier by the second. Oh, boy, do I want him.
As if he can tell, after a few swift strokes, Luke threads his hands in my hair and pulls back, withdrawing his cock from my mouth. He gazes down at his cock, now slick with my saliva, then cheekily at me. “Hey, Cassie, what’s a cone without a nice juicy place to stick it…?”
My legs quiver. This cheesy banter is getting me off and I almost fall over myself in an effort to get to my feet. Luke smirks at my eagerness. Lifting me up, he perches me against the edge of the freezers and tears off his T-shirt. Wow. Hard, lean and muscular—the guy looks amazing. But it’s his thick purple cock that has my mouth watering.
Luke moves to stand between my spread thighs. He slides his hands under my ass and lifts me against him. “You sure about this?” he rasps.
I wrap my legs around his waist. You bet. I lean back against the freezers and tilt my hips up toward him. “Bring it on.”
Luke surges forward driving his huge prick inside me. I arch my back, and cry out. Hard and filling, he sure feels satisfying buried in my cunt. I gaze down at my breasts jiggling as he starts to pound into me. This is bliss. Supporting me with one arm, he reaches for the chocolate sauce and drizzles it over my tits. He leans forward and sucks chocolate from my nipples, all the while working his cock into my pussy. I gaze up at the ceiling and sigh. I never thought working in the ice-cream van could be this much fun.
Luke throws his head back. “Man, you’re hot,” he murmurs, his lips trembling as he pistons his hips up against me.
I thrust my hips back to meet him. “You’re not so bad yourself.”
We heave and buck, cupboards rattling, thighs slapping and groans ringing out. I’m not sure even “Greensleeves” can cover this onslaught. But this time, I don’t care—all joking aside, this is one seriously good fuck. I reach down between my thighs and give my clit
a good rub, feeling the orgasm approaching.
Luke’s thrusts increase. I tighten my legs around his muscled back and slam back against him—I’m getting closer and closer to the brink. Oh, hell, this is it. My pussy contracts. I groan, my body convulsing in a huge juicy climax. One more thrust, and Luke cries out too. He turns his head to the side and buries his face against my breasts as he spurts himself into my pussy.
I lie back against the freezers, Luke still nestled between my thighs. I lift my head to look at him. “That was amazing.” I stroke my hands through his hair, a dazed expression on my face.
Luke lifts his head. “Yeah, it was.” He strokes his hands over my tits and looks thoughtful. “Only, I don’t know about you, but I’m still hungry….”
I smile. “Yeah, me too.” I pull him in for a kiss, feeling his hot lips burn me up all over again.
Suddenly, there’s a knock on the van window.
Oh hell—a customer.
I wiggle my hips trying to slide out from underneath Luke. “I have to go.”
Luke clasps my waist. “Can’t they wait?”
I falter at the pleading look in his eyes. “Yeah, okay, why not.” I grab his head and pull his lips back down onto mine.
“Cassie!”
I feel the color drain from my cheeks.
“What’s the matter?” Luke says.
My voice comes out in a whisper. “It sounds like Max—my boss.”
The next few minutes are a blur as we scramble around the van trying to put our clothes back on. I’ve only just straightened my hat when the voice calls out again—“Cassie, are you in there? What’s going on?”
“I’ll be right there.” I usher Luke to the back of the van and then sprint to the window to open it.
“Max…what a nice surprise,” I say, gazing down at the agitated face of my boss.
“I just stopped by to see how things were going and I find you’re all shut up. And it’s peak time too. What’s the problem?” he says.
“Um…” I flex my fingers trying to come up with a good excuse.
“Actually, it’s my fault.”
My heart almost stops beating as I turn to see Luke standing beside me.
“Your wonderful operative here has been kind enough to give me a personal tour of the van,” Luke continues, sounding very self-assured.
Max’s eyes narrow. “Oh, yes—and you are?”
“Luke Forewright of Forewright Construction Company.”
I gape. I don’t know who looks more surprised—me or Max.
Max’s expression softens, but he still looks suspicious. “Now then, Cassie, you know you aren’t supposed to let people into the van.”
“Yeah, I know, but…” I gaze down at the counter as if I’ll find the answer there.
Thankfully, Luke steps in to rescue me. “I’m considering making a business proposition, and I wanted to see firsthand the variety of refreshments on offer.”
I raise my brows at that one.
Max looks intrigued. “And?”
Luke slides his hand under my skirt and gives my ass a squeeze. “Very tasty.”
I shiver. The cheeky…
Luke continues. “So tasty in fact that I’d like to ask if you’d consider posting this van here for the rest of the summer….”
Max’s eyes flash. I can see the dollar signs there.
“My men certainly work up an appetite,” Luke continues, circling my buttocks.
“Well, that does sound promising.” Max turns his attention to me. “What do you think, Cassie?”
I slide my hand over Luke’s crotch and do a little squeezing of my own. “Yeah, I guess it could work out.”
“Well, then, that’s settled,” Max says.
Luke steps down off the van and gives Max a polite handshake. “Right, I’ll be off then,” he says, turning to me. “See you tomorrow, Cassie.”
I catch the glint in his eye. “You bet.” I watch him stroll back to the building site, a fuzzy glow in my chest.
Max puts his arm around my shoulder. “I must say, Cassie, I never knew you had such good business acumen.”
I smile back at him sweetly. Neither did I.
A few minutes later and I’m heading out of the parking lot in my little pink van, a huge smile on my face. If I’m not careful I’ll even be humming “Greensleeves.”
I WISH YOU WERE BRAILLE
Louise Lagris
This city is never small enough when you want it to be, but sometimes you circle the same people for years until your Venn diagrams bump into each other by accident. Later we tried to pinpoint how we’d managed to accidentally avoid each other so neatly but could never decide, chalking it up instead to a trickster god who gets his jollies from fucking with the good people of New York City.
But sometimes the planets configure themselves into origami shapes that bring me to my knees with joy at this city, and tonight was one of them. Because I dragged myself out to a bar to meet friends who brought friends, and somehow there was that fellow with the ink-picked heart on the side of his throat I’d been passing on the street for as long as I’d lived here. I never had a reason to say hi, no eye contact, just me looking at him with knives in my eyes, hoping he’d look back. But introductions were made and somehow my karma clicked into place for once, and Joe and I spent the evening slipping quarters into the jukebox, play-arguing over who has better taste in music, playing Echo and the Bunnymen, Buzzcocks, Joy Division, the bands on all the old T-shirts we had in our ancient collections.
Things were nice, warm, fuzzy. I felt like I was in a warm bath or soft pajamas, not a bar drowned in red lights with a movie screen playing Barbarella at our backs. We didn’t talk of anything important—our families, where we went to high school or college, what our ideal jobs were—we just played around and laughed and I really wanted to go home with him.
So tipsily, gigglingly, giddily, that’s what I did.
“I have to walk my dog,” he said. “Do you want to meet her? She’s sort of my litmus test, you see.”
“What will she do if she doesn’t approve?”
“Nothing, just ignore you. But being ignored by Miss Sugarpig is like being ignored by the Pope. It cuts deep.”
“I think I can handle it,” I said and finished my drink.
We weren’t drunk per se, but loosey-goosey as you are when you’ve drunk just enough to be silly, because you drink faster when you’re nervous than when you’re not. I tripped over invisible cracks in the sidewalk and girlishly clutched his arm. I could feel the wiry muscles underneath his leather coat and long-sleeve shirt, which only allowed the smallest peeks of his tattoos, which made them all the more titillating, like the glimpse of a Victorian ankle or petticoat. We sang Richard Hell songs as we walked through Tompkins Square Park, where homeless punks slept next to the cement chess stands and squirrels stared ludicrously from ancient tree branches that survived the squatter riots.
Joe lived on the fourth floor of a five-floor walkup on Avenue C. The stairs were narrow, and I got a splinter from the railing. He walked behind me, and I blushed with the feeling of his eyes on my ass but wiggled a little extra at the same time, flushed all over. I was already wet.
I flattened myself against the wall so he could unlock the door. We were both panting a little from the walk, but also from nervousness; at least I was. My teeth chattered and a few tremors went down my back as he opened the door and we went in.
Sugarpig was waiting at the door; she nosed his knee and, I swear, motioned her head toward the door like, “Come on, come on, get the leash and let’s go.” He nudged her back, gently, with his knee.
“Sorry, Shug, go lie down.”
“But, ah, I thought we were going to walk her?”
“Ah, well, see…that was kind of not true. I walked her before I left.” He was looking at the dog, who had settled herself on her dog bed in the corner. She huffed. She was shining white in the light from the windows, her pink nose moist and candylike, her eye
s sizing me up. She was indeed a formidable presence, one that I would have to win over should this one night turn into more.
“You’re not mad, are you?”
“No, of course I’m not.”
“Echo, my cat, is hiding. She gets jealous.”
“Sorry, Echo-echo-echo…” His mouth stopped me from this goofiness. I laughed into it and felt his wide lips smile on mine. His mouth was a little chapped but gentle; when I responded to his kisses with a tiny, tiny bite on his lower lip, it unlocked something in him that he’d been holding back and he bit me back harder. His tongue went in my mouth deeper, and I turned my head so he could lick my neck and ear. He pulled on my earrings, and I giggled. He stuck his nose in my ear, and I pulled away, and he pulled me back. Tug of war, the kind you have on playgrounds.
He was taller than he looked; I had to stand on the balls of my feet and crane my head to kiss him and totally failed when I tried to nip at his neck. He put his hands on my shoulders and, still kissing me, led me over to the couch and gently pushed me over. Very gently, as if I was a vase he wanted to tip over, but he was scared he would get in trouble for breaking it. I let myself fall, and when he climbed on top of me I threw my legs around him and nearly kicked over the end table with my boots. His hips were narrow between my thighs; his belt buckle dug into my stomach. I think we kissed and wriggled and play-humped for an hour, like teenagers. His hands were delicious, long fingered with rounded fingernails, and his body was boyish above me.
Suddenly Joe stood up and held out his hand.
“Shall we?” he asked, like we were elegantly dressed ball-room dancers in a ’50s movie.
“Yes. Yes, we shall.” I took his hand.
A streetlight glowed from behind the gauzy curtains. The bed was rumpled and slept-in; a tiny calico cat was snuggled up in one of the mounds of sheets. She saw us, yawned and ran into the closet.
Joe took off my glasses and carefully put them on the end table. I lay back on the bed, and he took one of my boots in his hands, gently unlacing it and pulling it off and dropping it on the floor, then running his hand up my leg. He kissed the inside of my knee, and I felt it all the way up. Then he did the same for my other boot. I shivered.