“Nuh-uh,” I said, wagging a finger at him. “This time, you will submit to me. Wait right there.”
I skipped out of the room, giggling when he growled at my departure. I ran to the fridge to grab the honey, intent on torturing him the way he had tortured me over those three months.
He lifted his head from the pillow when I re-entered, and I shook the bear-shaped bottle at him.
“What do you have planned, you naughty girl?” He raised an eyebrow.
I sat on the bed and twisted open the lid. “I’m going to smother your cock in honey and lick you clean.”
He looked pleased at the prospect.
Before he could reply, though, I placed a finger on his lips. “And you can’t cum until I tell you to.”
He nipped at the tip of my finger then gave a groan of disappointment.
I backed away from the bed long enough to strip naked, then I crawled like a cat across the mattress. When I leaned over him to grab the honey from the nightstand, I made sure my breasts brushed over his lips. He grabbed a nipple between his teeth and swirled his tongue around the pink tip. I moaned as the sensation went straight to my loins.
I pulled from him and playfully tapped his cheek. “No touching. I only get to touch you.”
He frowned at this. “I’m not sure I like this game.”
I slinked down his body again, licking and nibbling as I did so. “Oh, you will like it.”
I squeezed sweet, amber liquid down over his ramrod hard cock. He sighed and jutted his hips up while the syrupy nectar trickled over his wide glans and steely shaft. Once it reached his scrotum, I lapped beneath the ridge, slurping up all the sticky goo there before I moved to his hole. I stuck my tongue inside and licked up his salty pre-cum as it mixed with the sugary liquid.
“I do like it,” he whispered. “Soooo very much.”
I lapped the honey from the sides of his shaft, and he bucked, moaned, thrashed as I did so. He was incredibly frustrated he couldn’t touch me, and I teased him further by stroking my wet pussy up his thigh. My breasts pressed tight against him as I bobbed up and down his cock, and the honey that had trickled down his balls and inner thighs coated my flesh in slick sweetness.
I dipped my head between his legs to suck the nectar from his shaved scrotum. His sac was smooth and shone with stickiness. I pressed my tongue into his sac and lapped at it, tugged at with my teeth, sucked the loose skin deep into my mouth.
“Dear god,” he groaned. “I can’t hold back much longer.”
I stopped and sat up, giving him a cheeky smile as I tormented. I wouldn’t touch his cock, but I lightly skimmed my fingernails up and down his balls. “Not yet. You have to wait until I say.” And I shook a finger in his face.
He thrashed in his bonds, jutted his hips up, and begged, “Please… let me come now.”
I sat and let him wriggle a little while longer. Then, finally, I gave him what he wanted. I deep throated his penis. His glans hit the back of my throat and my chin brushed the soft skin of his sac. I sucked him hard and held him there until he bucked up, slamming his head farther into my throat, nearly choking me. Then I slid my lips up the shaft slowly, swirling my tongue back and forth over the sensitive skin as I did so.
“All right, now you can cum.”
I bobbed faster and faster until he shot his seed and I swallowed the hot, salty flow. I rose up and smiled at him, wiping a bit of glistening cum from my bottom lip as I did so.
“Now, you have to untie me,” he said, his breath still ragged from the intense orgasm. “One more surprise.”
He went to the nightstand after I unfastened the neckties for him. After rifling in the tissue paper cocooning the roses, he returned to me with a small velvet box.
“Casey Carpenter,” he said, now kneeling. “Will you marry me?”
I looked at Butch and once more saw that little geek boy from so long ago. I knew, then, I’d loved him always, too. If I’d have been smart all those years ago, I’d have picked him over Corey.
“Yes,” I said, tearing up as he presented me with a huge teardrop diamond ring. “I will.”
***
Cindy Eller
A girl with social anxiety meets her perfect prince.
By Leigh Foxlee
***
Cindy Eller
I ditched my pre-Valentine’s date. And it wasn’t the first time I dumped Prince Charming. I felt like a jerk.
You are a jerk! my inner voice scolded. I wouldn’t blame him if he never chats with you again.
“Oh shut up,” I grumbled back, pulling my glasses from my face to clean away smudges with my sweatshirt.
Prince Charming was the chat name of my online paramour. I went by Cindy Eller, after my favorite fairy tale. My real name is Cynthia Ellerton, and everyone calls me Cindy for short, so I suppose it lacks any imagination, or internet security really. Me and PC had met in a Funtime Games chat room while playing Goofee Gophers Word Search. He’d made a joke that he must be the one for me, since our screen names matched perfectly. The conversation flowed easily, amicably.
Then, about a month back, he’d suggested taking our games over to the adult chat section. I’m somewhat sheltered when it comes to sex, but curious, and I felt I knew him well enough to agree. Besides, it was just online sex, right? What harm could come of it?
My step sisters and step mother didn’t quite see it that way.
“What if he stalks you?” Sally clucked her tongue and shook her bright red hair. “You can’t be too careful these days.”
I rolled my eyes. “It’s not like I plan on meeting him ever. Besides, I’ve been chatting with him for months. What’s the big deal? Don’t be so uptight.”
My stepmother’s smooth brow crinkled with fine lines. “Sally does have a point. Those internet--oh, what are they called?--hackers?”
Rebecca, my other step sister, nodded at her mother.
“Hackers,” my step mother continued, “could get your phone number, address, all that stuff and come kill you!”
I tried not to roll my eyes at the thin, bird-like woman. I knew she meant well. She worried that my social anxiety made me spend too much time on the computer and not enough time face to face socializing. Plus she watched too many tabloid news programs and believed them to be true. My step mom saw me as the sheltered introvert she had to protect, and I could admittedly be a bit too cavalier with my internet security, despite my deep trust issues with people. What can I say? I’ve got a contradictory personality sometimes.
Still, my family didn’t need to worry. I was great with online game chat, but I was still dodging a face to face meeting with Prince Charming. Commitment and trust issues. Yeah, I’m a real package.
I remembered our first chat make out session. He broke my sexual ice with a simple question: Are you a virgin, Cindy?
I blushed profusely before I typed back: No, but I’m new to this.
PrinceCharming: We’ll start slow. Have you ever touched yourself?
My cheeks grew hotter and my fingers shook as I typed: Masturbated?
PrinceCharming: Yes.
I chewed my lip and stared at the chat window, hating how my face burnt with embarrassment. I was a grown woman, in college for crying in the sink, and this was ridiculous. Taking a deep breath, I told myself to Buck up, Princess.
I typed: Well… kinda … sorta.
Frustrated with myself, I hit enter and hid my face in my hands. How I wanted to punch a wall, but I didn’t want to lose my damage deposit, or break my fingers.
PrinceCharming: Kinda?
His response forced me to take deep, calming breaths. What a ninny I was! Okay, grow up Cindy and chat.
I typed: I’ve touched my clitoris. Never inserted fingers. No orgasm… yet.
What I didn’t tell him was my step mother taught me that sex of any kind was “dirty,” “wrong,” and only for procreation. Her words, not mine. But even though I disagreed with her, the woman raised me after my dad won custody and m
y mom, the natural wanderer, left. I had to live by her rules at one time, and those antiquated rules still played tricks on my less than perfect brain.
PrinceCharming: Will you play with yourself 4 me? Cum 4 me?
I swallowed hard, blinked at the screen.
I typed: I don’t have a cam.
It was all I could think of, and it was true. Not that I’m a toad or anything. I like to think I’m an average-to-cute geek girl. My short, black pixie ‘do makes me look almost elfin. But I’ve never been a fan of my chin, and my nose is just okay.
PrinceCharming: That’s okay. Type as you play. Tell me how it feels.
I quit brooding about my appearance and jumped when the message ping went off. What the hell? I decided. It was time to shed my uptightness. Besides, I was in the privacy of my apartment, and no one would see.
Taking a deep breath, I typed back: I could just lie. Tell you I’m doing it when I’m not.
PrinceCharming: I trust you. :)
My heart fluttered in my chest and I almost hated him for being so slick, so nice, but that wouldn’t be fair. This was my shit messing with my head, not his fault.
I typed back: So … how should I start.
PrinceCharming: Get naked for me.
I shivered as I shed my ash grey sweatshirt, black yoga pants, and red striped thong. My skin felt electric, as if unseen charged particles pinged out of my pores. I was terrified and thrilled all at once.
My nipples puckered, hardening until they hurt as I sat in the chair again, my clothes completely shed.
I typed: Okay, what next?
PrinceCharming: I wish I could see you. ;) Spread your legs. Get comfortable.
I did, then waited for his next message.
PrinceCharming: Stroke your clit. Pull the hood back and rub it. Tell me how it feels.
I skimmed two fingers up my soft labia then caressed the tiny bead of flesh. Sparks seemed to shoot through my every nerve. When I pulled the hood back to rub beneath, a tiny moan escaped me.
PrinceCharming: Feel good?
I stopped long enough to type: Yes.
Prince Charming: Slide your fingers between your lips. Get them wet.
I did as he instructed, parting my labia to slip two fingers down my slit. It glistened with my juices, and my pussy already throbbed so strong it was driving me mad.
Once my fingers shone with wetness, I rubbed my clit again. More electric shocks zipped from my sex to my brain, showering my whole body with delightful sensation. I could see how a person could become addicted to this sort of pleasure. I certainly didn’t want it to end any time soon.
PrinceCharming: Rub your clit. Fuck yourself with your fingers. Make yourself come, Princess.
My skin tingled as I ground fingers into my swelling clitoris. Tense muscles started to relax as pleasure flooded my body. My clit pulsed strong from the stimuli. The tingling threatened to drive me mad, and my opening throbbed so hard it hurt.
PrinceCharming: Details? ;)
I groaned as I pulled my fingers away from my sex, disappointed by the cessation of bliss. I had to collect my thoughts before I could reply.
I typed: I’m wet. On fire. I need to cum.
I stared in shock at my reply. It read so confident and wanton.
PrinceCharming: Tell me how it feels, how you feel? Bring me into your world.
My hands shook slightly as I typed: It feels … amazing. It’s like electricity zipping through my body, if getting electrocuted were a good thing. lol
PrinceCharming: I bet you feel like velvet. So soft. So wet. I can almost see it.
My cheeks flamed with heat and a smile quirked up the corners of my lips.
I typed: Now, can I get back to it? ;)
PrinceCharming: haha! Go for it.
This time, I positioned myself in the chair so I could slide fingers inside me while still playing with my clit. I closed my eyes and pictured him with me, imagined what he would look like. My fingers became his fingers.
I tugged my clit back and rubbed. My fingers were once more slick with my juices, and I gasped loudly as I drew his face in my mind. Hair so black it seemed to shine blue. Eyes the color of sapphires. Chiseled cheekbones and a square chin. He watched me with intense lust as his fingers skimmed up my labia.
I rubbed my clit harder, letting myself get lost in the daydream as my hips began to rock in a rhythm that matched my climbing ecstasy. My fingers slipped inside of me and I clamped down hard around the penetration. I cooed and bit my lip as the sensations amped up to mind blowing.
I’d read enough articles on sex and women’s health to know where the g-spot was located. I curled my fingers and found it quickly, stroking it in time with my clit. My pelvis tightened and my hips rocked faster. Soon I fucked myself in wild abandon as my entire focus zoned in on the need to come.
The orgasm exploded through my body and mind, leaving my trembling and gasping. Juices trickled from inside me and pooled on the chair cushion. I caught my breath and opened my eyes just as another chat ping went off.
PrinceCharming: So how was it?
I typed: Fantastic!
***
More cybersex meetings ensued, until he popped the question. No, not THAT question! The “do you want to meet” question.
My heart froze in my chest. I did want to meet him, don’t get me wrong, but the truth was we still had no idea what each other looked like. Sure, we’d exchanged life details, some stories, but I didn’t even know his real name yet and he didn’t know mine.
He suggested a restaurant, a local pub, somewhere open and public. This eased my apprehension somewhat. So I decided to suggest a meeting place: my mom’s bakery/cafe. But I didn’t tell him my mom owned it.
We agreed on this and told each other what we’d be wearing, so it would be easy to spot each other. Everything was set. My first date in over a year! Since that jerk Doug dumped me for some big boobed barista.
But the date came and went and I didn’t leave the house. Instead, I sat watching reruns of Battleship Saturn while eating a tub of double fudge ice cream. I hated myself through every episode and for bingeing.
I went to visit Mom two days later, my head hung low and my morale dragging. My real mom only re-entered my life about three years ago, when I turned 21. She’s a true bohemian, let me tell you. Picture a forty-five-year-old Beyonce Knowles wearing bell bottoms and you’ve got my mom.
She was worried I’d reject her when she returned, but we spent a lot of long nights talking. Eventually, I came to understand her reasons, and I love her for who she is. The woman bakes the best black forest cake in town, and she gives the best advice. She insists I call her Sadie, because Mom makes her feel old.
“So, what did he look like?” I asked, after sulking my way up to the spotless display case.
Sadie gave me a sympathetic frown over the top of her tortoiseshell glasses. “He was gorgeous. Why didn’t you show up?”
I kicked the side of my running shoe. “Because I’m a chickenshit.”
Sadie laughed at this. “Hey, I made some mini black forest cakes. Go get yourself one.”
Smiling, I headed behind the display case without hesitation.
Business was slow that day, so Sadie led me out front and we sat at one of the little round tables topped with a red checked cloth. While I ate my mini-cake, we talked. I told her about Ruth, my step mom, and my step sister’s being paranoid about Prince Charming
“Those women mess with your head,” she said, trying to sooth my worries. “Don’t let Ruth and the girls get to you. They mean well, I know, but they need to stop believing everything they watch on Pox News. And I’m sure your guy will understand.”
I smiled at her efforts. “I hope so, but I wouldn’t blame him if he didn’t.”
She shook her head at me, but her face was still full of compassion. “Don’t sweat over it too much, hon. You’re being too hard on yourself. He knows about your anxiety. You said he’s shy. He’ll understand.”
>
***
The next day, I had a email from Prince Charming waiting for me at Funtime Games. My heart beat faster when I saw it, and my mouth went dry. I felt a fool for such a reaction. Really, I hadn’t even met the guy yet!
He was worried about me. The email asked if everything was okay, and his concern touched my heart. But another part of me wondered if he did this to lure me into a false sense of trust … then into his basement, where he kept his other victims.
I slapped my forehead and cursed myself. I was letting my step mother and step sisters get to me way too much.
My fingers flew over the keyboard as I wrote him back. We arranged another meeting at mom’s cafe. Three days before Valentine’s Day. My head and heart thrummed with excitement. I even went out and bought a cute new red dress to wear. Something silky that showed cleavage and hugged curves. I felt confident and ready.
But I ditched PrinceCharming again.
And here it was, one day later. At least I hadn’t binged yet. Sadie had called, concerned that I’d once more missed my date and left the poor guy waiting in her café. She tried to make me feel better, but there was no lifting my mood this time.
I was a complete idiot.
My email alert played its tinny tune and I jumped, letting out a little yelp as the sound yanked me from my brooding. I slipped across the carpet in my socks and scooped my laptop off the small, white desk.
The subject header read: Rosewood Studios - YOU’VE WON!
Rosewood Studios was the network that aired my favorite show: Two Torn. It was a romantic dramedy about a woman who bounced between two brothers, but couldn’t decide which one she truly loved. Chaos and hijinks ensued each week in their on-again off-again relationships.
So what exactly had I won from Rosewood? I didn’t remember entering anything.
I double clicked it open and scanned the message. My heart did a backward somersault.
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