Making the Hook-Up

by Cole Riley

  “I want some of that ‘encore sex’ you bragged about last night. By the way, I have my own version of encore sex. And whatever you do, don’t you dare forget that bench.” Click!

  As he slowly inched across The World’s Largest Parking Lot—the notorious 405 freeway—he thought back to their first long conversation about flowers. She said that she never painted them, but she enjoyed having them near, while she painted. She inadvertently told him that the scents and colors excited her imagination, and that golden angel’s trumpet was her favorite, even though it was deadly poison. She mentioned that it was still in bloom. He stopped by a nursery in Westwood and bought her a premium hybrid that would reach her roof in two seasons and spill bushels of humongous, bright yellow blossoms, emitting their heavenly scent from dusk to dawn.

  She also mentioned that her favorite food was Japanese—but just the cooked stuff. He stopped and got them a tray of her favorite dishes—eel roll, spider crab roll, miso soup, tempura veggies, teriyaki chicken rolls, and baked dyn-o-mite mussels on a half shell. He bought seasonal fruit from Farm Boy Produce Market—blueberries for her, cantaloupes for himself…tangelos for her, Fuji apples for himself. He didn’t just listen…he heard.

  By the time he pulled up into her driveway, he was excited as a child on the first day of first grade. Finally, he’d have a face to go with that voice. When he pulled up in front of her house, he thought about how much it looked like she described: a periwinkle and white two-story Victorian, surrounded by a tall used brick fence. The melodic sound of her wind chimes and the compelling abstract design on her garage door screamed artist-in-residence.

  The first thing he unloaded was the large paprika red, pit-fired pot of angel’s trumpet. He lugged it up the steps to her porch with Mack, his new “mutt plus,” half-Jack terrier, half-?, noisily darting in and out of his legs. While Mack ricocheted from one end of the unfamiliar yard to the other, he discovered a well-fed but bitchy calico, Diva, resting in a damp bed of cool moss, and made the unwise choice to sniff her. She gave him a stiff warning across the tender salmon-colored nose. He yelped and raced back to Aden, busy positioning the cumbersome flower pot beside the tall white porch column. With Mack close underfoot, he unloaded his luggage and grocery bags from the trunk of his car. He headed back toward the front door and from the corner of his eye, he noticed the curtains in the French doors sway. She had been peeking. Partly to calm himself and partly as a joke, he called her on the phone. Businesswoman that she was, he knew she’d answer.

  “Hey.” Her response was short but sweet and rich as fresh cream, and saturated with the smoky mezzo tone that had instantly captured his attention.

  “Come down and let me take a good look at you, Ms. Peeker.”

  She opened the white wooden screen and leaned against the frame of her door. She was wearing a long white chenille robe. As plush as it was, it was plain for him to see that she was thick and shaped like a beautiful milk chocolate coke bottle. Her belt was cinched tightly around her waist, and from her waist, her robe fell like a waterfall from her wide hips and plump ass. Underneath, she was naked, except for ultrasheer hot pink tangas.

  He raced up her steps, out of the thick cool mist that was threatening again to become rain, and set down the bags of food and groceries on the kitchen floor.

  “I brought Mack,” he apologized. “He found me a few weeks ago. He was too young to leave wandering, so I took him home until I find someone who’ll care for him.”

  Yanni wasn’t a dog person, but Mack was the kind of warm, fat-bellied wiggler and licker that defied anything that resembled dislike. She picked him up and blotted the blood droplet off from his harsh encounter with Diva.

  “Looks like rain. I’m not much for animals in the house, but Mack can stay on my service porch, if he promises not to cut into my bench time. By the way, where’s my bench?” She pouted playfully.

  “I’ll get it on my next trip to the car.”

  He had rehearsed a truckload of clever ways to break the ice, but when Yanni bent over to pick up a handful of junk mail, and her robe swung wide open at the top and the bottom, nothing clever came to mind. He stood transfixed, with his thick dick pulsing against his fly…begging for a long grinding hug.

  “Oh, I’m sorry,” she teased, half-closing the top of her robe, to the protest of her soft round breasts.

  “May I hold you?”

  Yanni didn’t say yes or no but didn’t budge as he moved in closer. They were contrasting shades of brown. Neither of them was thin, but they were both fit, which seemed strange, being that they enjoyed such different food. He had worried that he wouldn’t be tall enough for her, but she was only about five five, in her bejeweled flip-flops. He was five eight and a half…five nine (or ten), on a good day. She had very thick curly mahogany brown hair that hung to the middle of her small but well-shaped breasts. Thick clusters of it danced in the wind. After enjoying their first physical contact, Aden’s hands shot straight to the bejeweled side-ties that carved a perfect T across Yanni’s wide curvaceous hips and down the split of her magnificent peach of an ass. Yanni went straight for his gorgeous dick. No need to beat around the bush, play nice girl, or pretend indifference—she was on fire and let him know.

  “You’re more beautiful than I ever imagined,” he said, sliding his meaty arms tightly around her waist. “Let me know if I do anything that makes you uncomfortable, Ms. Roberts.”

  “So far, so good,” she whispered. “Maybe we should take all this inside, fo some’m catch on fire. I don’t think the fire department would appreciate being called in the rain.” It was starting to come down in large drops.

  “Movin’ in?” she teased, wrinkling her nose and pointing at his two sizable pieces of luggage and his overnight case.

  “Maybe…if things go as planned.”

  “I’ve never lived with a man before, Aden.”

  “From what you’ve told me, you never been thoroughly loved and fucked before either.” Those words sent blood rushing.

  “Tell me, Mr. Laws, how does a thorough fucking go?”

  “Show me where to put my things away and I’ll be glad to show you.”

  “You’ll have to let go of me,” she laughed nervously.

  “I don’t think I really want to move,” he said, grabbing her even tighter. “Maybe, if you let me taste that sexy smile of yours, I could find the strength to let go.”

  She lifted her head and offered him the sweetness of her open mouth. He teased her, brushing her lips with his soft moustache, and circled her lips with a barrage of steamy kisses. When their lips finally met, he painted her tongue with his, sucking gently, to the rhythm of his stealthy fingertips, which had found their way to her stiff clit and begun cracking her code. As difficult as it was to end the firestorm between them, Aden eased to a stop. Both of them were breathing like wild animals after a flight-or-fight chase.

  “Someone’s done his homework.”

  “I wanted to be teacher’s pet,” he grinned.

  She grabbed his small overnight case and led him upstairs to the master bedroom. She could barely walk, because of the profound swelling and pulse of pleasure still throbbing between her legs. She had braced herself to be able to accept Aden—no matter what, but to her good fortune, he was not only as polite and smart in person as he was on the phone, he was good looking—her style of good looking: thick forearms, wide meaty shoulders, medium height and a nice hard chunky dick. He was neat and well groomed but didn’t give her the impression that they would engage in a daily competition for mirror space. His eyes were dark and tender, but he was quite manly.

  He wasn’t a flawless early thirties male model from an exclusive men’s magazine, but he had nice white teeth, fresh breath, clean pressed clothes that fit and nice shoes. Nothing too faddish or conservative, he was right in stylish center. She was drawn to his small clear black shining eyes. He had a beautiful broad nose and fleshy well-shaped lips. She had imagined him to be a lighter, lankier, more dish
eveled, Afro-nerd type, mainly because he was so into technology and had such a strong command of business English. As she let her eyes wander up and down his fine frame, all she could think was that she had won the wrong number lotto. She had imagined him being taller, from the depth and strength of his voice, but was in no way disappointed. Things were off to a fiery start. She kept inventing ways to take peeks at him, as she moved about, showing him where to put his things.

  “Please, go get that bench, before I lose my mind, Aden.”

  “Mack made a mess of your robe,” he said, playfully, ignoring her, as he knelt before her and pretended to dust away a cluster of Mack’s muddy paw prints. They were so deeply imbedded into the material, it was clear they weren’t coming out until the dry cleaner’s took them out. Aden stroked a little harder and in bolder strokes, until he had traveled up the right side of her body, up to her waist—stroking, rubbing and caressing. Finally he was standing and gazing directly into her eyes. He slowly slid his hands from the cool air of her room, to the inside of her robe, and onto her warm smooth naked body. With his chin resting between her neck and shoulder, and his nose planted in the middle of a fragrant cloud of her freshly washed hair, he surrounded her magnificent ass with his strong fingers, and slowly feathered them up and down the backs of her healthy thighs. He quickly reached down and freed his agonizingly hard dick from his pants. The sight of it and the sensation of its pressure and the stroke of his large hands made Yanni moan and reach out for him. She miraculously gathered enough strength to take control and reciprocate his sensual generosity. She turned up the heat by lavishing his dick with exotic caresses, premoistened with the sweet sticky juice from her body. She took a deep breath and guided him, by his shoulder, down to the carpet, and then she knelt. When they were facing each other again, she pulled the mauve satin tip of him into the slick curtains of flesh that surrounded her pussy. He closed his eyes and gasped. She encircled his muscular neck with her arms and gave him a few long hot kisses.

  She didn’t stop until they were both completely out of breath and in the royal blue velvet mood for a full-blown fuck-o-rama. They both said something unintelligible and almost by instinct, they stood and faced each other. The moment was so intense that she started to back away, but Aden grabbed both of her hands and pulled her back into him. He slid his hands through her arms and rested the knot of his clasped hands on the shelf of her firm ass, and sighed, “I’m sorry about your robe, Yanni. I’ll have it cleaned for you, baby. Give it to me. I’ll put it in my car when I go get the bench.”

  “My robe?”

  “Yes…I want to see you—all of you.”

  Some of her hesitation was “first time” awkwardness, but most of it was masterful teasing. Yanni’s robe had never come off more seductively. Aden enjoyed the slow lusty dance. Her skin gleamed from the herbal oil salt scrub she had used. When she was done, she extended her paw-printed robe to him and bowed. Suddenly, his hands shot out and gently trapped her breasts. Like fleshy reins, he guided her to him by them, and then kissed her more deeply than ever. Still holding one of her breasts captive, his warm moist inner lips trailed slowly as a bead of honey to her other breast, where he tongue-whipped her stiff nipple into a joyful buzz. He buried his other hand deep between her legs and slid it back and forth in her slippery warmth. With all the discipline she could muster, she asked him to stop.

  He opened one eye. “You don’t like it?”

  “I adore it. I just want…to try that bench.”

  Aden sighed, slid his hand from between her legs, and calmly licked it clean. Nothing quite like a man who looooooves the taste of hot pussy, she thought.

  He sulked. “I shouldn’t even have told you about it. I should have kept it a surprise.”

  “Ha! That little bench is the reason you’re here. You piqued my curiosity.”

  “Well, since you put it like that…I’ll go get it. You’re gettin’ ready to experience a fuck royale, Yanni Roberts.”

  She seductively spread her legs, bent at the waist, gently grabbed her ankles, and then slowly ran both hands up her legs. When they reached her pussy, she took up where Aden left off, only with more hungrily desperate moves. She trapped her clit and lips in a tight V of her fingers and fiercely smoothed them. She flipped her hips and hair from side to side, continuing to please her body, with her back against the wall—eyes closed.

  Aden couldn’t get down to his car fast enough. Yanni chuckled as she watched him slip and slide, like the long-lost fourth Black Stooge, down the grassy rain-slicked incline of her front lawn, hustling his way across the freshly muddied walkway, every now and then doing a little James Brown move, in his “way too nice for the rain” boots. He finally made it back to the porch.

  Aden carried the bench with ease. When he returned, they shared a beautifully odd and silent moment, pregnant with possibility.

  She was still giggling as they climbed the stairs to her artsy loft, but things turned serious once he revealed the unusual bench.

  “The bench…” He winked.

  “Ooh,” she sighed, easing her smooth feet back into her fluffy feather-trimmed white high-heeled slippers.

  The intricately inlaid legs of the bench were adjusted to have a slight incline and a space below that was just large enough to accommodate another body. Cut in the center, the top had a long boat-shaped hole the size of a generous piece of pie. It reminded Yanni of an ornately carved wooden tricycle with adjustable legs instead of wheels. The handlebar ends were padded with pastel blue-green velvet grips. Just imagining how it would be used made her sigh steam.

  “I’m going to take you on ride, you’ll never forget.”

  With Yanni’s highly skilled assistance, Aden undressed. He walked to the window to enjoy the sight and sound of the rain, beating down much harder, joining a powerful wind that was bullying the leathery leaves and branches of a row of old eucalyptus nearby. Other than the flame of a single candle, the lavender-blue light from her window was the only light in the room. The candlelight enhanced each sweat bead, dip, and dimple on their bodies, polishing the dresser tops and hardwood floor with shimmering pale gold.

  “Ready?” she clipped impatiently, straddling the low bench. He walked back to her.

  “I was told by the artist that a woman can intensify the already powerful sensation by pulling back her lower lips, before she sits.” Yanni pinned back her thick outer lips and squatted back down onto the bench, easing her burning cunt into the diamond-shaped cutout. The wood nearest the hole had been tooled and sanded to a surprising comfort.

  “Ooh, that feels incredible,” she purred. “So, now what?”

  “Just hold on and enjoy, baby.”

  Aden opened his small dark green overnight case and pulled out a bottle of black cherry-flavored lubricant.

  He said, “I’m going to start with my hands, so I can have the pleasure of seeing your face twist, and your body twitch, while I proceed to Fuck! You! Up!”

  He began by delicately ice-skating with his fingertips, into and away from her clit. Every time she started to lose it, he’d slow down to a crawl, or distract her with other exotic toys—a naughty ivory silk scarf from Paris, decorated with a thousand black, maroon, and golden-brown dicks—a powerful miniature finger vibe from China that looked and waggled like a human tongue. Aden applied soft maddening strokes from a large antique bamboo calligraphy brush and gently kneaded her most sensitive flesh with an obsidian stone that he had warmed. He used his strong skillful tongue to give her an encore.

  “Sssssssss…” she winced. “Aden?”

  “Yes, ma’am?” He pulled his head out from under the bench and looked directly into her eyes, still busily attending her gulping pussy with his circling palm. She admired the tapestry of veins and the hard pulse of his penis, in the rapidly fading last light of the dreary day.

  “Sharing pleasure makes me even hotter. Would you mind if I sucked your dick?”

  “Oooh, I don’t know,” he teased, but stood as
fast as he could and positioned his hard dick near her full, parted lips.

  She leaned forward and pulled him into her mouth with her lips. He buried his fingers in her long rebellious curls until he had two secure fistfuls of her hair in his command. Sure he talked his macho shit, but it was clear to both of them that his hands were only along for the ride. Yanni knew, without being guided, the power and tempo he needed to be licked, sucked, and touched into retreat. She went berserk on his dick with her mouth and the cup of her upper throat. He had to pull away to keep from coming. Once he regrouped, she used the silky veined underbelly of her tongue to massage his balls and thighs with an uncommon tenderness—taunting him until he recaptured control.

  “Can’t take it, huh? What you gon’ do when I whip this spasmin’ pussy on you? Come back here! Where you trying to go? I ain’t th’ough with you!”

  He started rockin’ it into her mouth, like he was unaffected, and in rebuttal, she started roughin’ him up with powerful dick-length sucks.

  “So, you want to play hardball, huh?” he finally moaned, pulling out of her mouth. “Ladies first! I like to ride my pussy while it’s in the middle of orgasm spasm.”

  “Fine!” she giggled.

  He knelt in front of her and while kissing her, reached beneath the bench and applied the most glorious ten-finger manipulation to everything within reach. It felt like she was being devoured by a ten-tongued clit-licking machine. He didn’t just massage, he talked insanely sexy shit to her. He told her how he was going to pound the pink out her pussy. He told her that he was going to spring her like last year’s Slinky and that this wasn’t a one-time wonder.

  He said, “You’re mine now. And from now on…”

  “And from now on…what?” she sneered, on the verge of convulsion. He had methodically filled her juicy cunt full of cherry tomato-sized stainless steel balls, knotted together with a silky silver cord.

  “When we’re together, you’re mine, and you’ll do as I request, understood?”