by Lori Perkins
He helped her up, off the desk, his keys jingling as he moved to remove the handcuffs.
“That was amazing,” she said, rubbing her wrists as the cold, sharp metal released and her arms went free. She turned to face him, still working to catch her breath.
“Maybe we could do it again, sometime?” he asked, his eyes sincere.
She nodded, pulling up her panties and adjusting her skirt. “I’d like that.”
He moved to kiss her, warm and soft, his hands around her body, and she felt an excitement that had been lacking in her life for far too long.
“I should get back to work,” she said, wishing she could spend the rest of the night in his embrace.
Mike set his business card on her desk. “Call me.”
“I will.”
She watched him show himself out, and then she sat down at her desk, still hot and wet with the memory of what had just transpired. She shifted her attention to her computer, energized and excited, ready to tackle the task before her.
Laundry Day
by Heidi Champa
I had just slammed the dryer shut when I heard him crash through the door. Just standing there for three seconds had created a puddle of mud and water. The rain hadn’t let up all day, but the team decided to practice anyway. Every inch of him was covered in filth. His shorts clung to his thighs, stuck there with clumps of the oval he was just playing on. He smiled at me like a happy little boy, clearly enjoying the mud that clung to every inch of him. He stepped towards me, trailing dirty water with him.
“Stop! You’re making enough of a mess. I’ll get you a towel.”
He just smiled and kept inching towards me, arms outstretched like Frankenstein. I backed away, but he kept moving.
“Aww, come on. Just one hug. I’ve missed you.”
He held out his muddy hands and I found myself out of room to back away. I stood in the doorway, his muddy face dripping just inches from my white carpet. I stared into his laughing eyes, trying to get him to be serious. But there seemed to be no chance of that.
“It’s your choice. Let me hug you, or the carpet gets it.”
“You’re crazy, you know that?”
He eased forward, letting his fingers dangle over the carpet. I saw the drops of silt and water forming, clinging to the tips of each finger. One fat drop sat swollen, ready to fall from his thumb. He smiled as it splattered by my feet, leaving a reddish brown circle. Before he had the chance to do any more damage I stepped into his muddy arms and pushed him back. I could feel the water and mud warmed by his body seeping into my t-shirt. His hands ran down my back, enjoying the transfer of muddy streaks. He giggled to himself as his hands slid lower, grasping my ass. He slid his clammy palms up and over my arms, leaving filmy and grainy marks on my skin. With a wink, he touched his dirty thumb to my cheek, painting my face to look like his. I pulled away and he turned me around, admiring his handy work. I caught a glimpse in the door, and saw his smeared hand prints soaking into my jeans.
“Okay, you’ve had your fun, now strip. Let me get this stuff in the wash.”
“If you insist.”
I hadn’t meant it to be a seductive statement, but suddenly as he pulled his jumper over his head, my breath was gone. My brain had been short-circuited by the sight of him. The mud that had soaked through the fabric clung to his chest hair, his arms still streaked with the soft ground. I knew I was staring, but I couldn’t help it. His cleats and socks hit the ground, sending ripples through the puddle he was standing in. He finally noticed me watching, staring at his brown and red smeared chest.
He didn’t say anything when he put his hands to the waistband of his footy shorts. God, they were so short. Almost his entire leg was exposed, the hair making a convenient catch for the grass and earth. He was ready to inch them down, but I wrapped my hand around his wrist to stop him. I just stood there, holding him still. I saw the goose bumps forming on his skin as the water cooled him. He looked so damned good I couldn’t stand it. It was my turn to smile as I sank down in front of him. I didn’t even hesitate when I felt the knees of my jeans soak through with dirty water. He looked down at me in disbelief when I reached up to the elastic of his tiny, tiny shorts.
“Let me help you.”
I don’t know where my voice came from. He was already hard as I slid the wet fabric down his filthy thighs. I laughed inside, as his hard cock was the only clean part of him. Wrapping my lips around the soft velvet head, I sucked his cock deep into my throat. He smelled like a rainstorm, all earthy and moist. His grimy hands wound into my hair as he pushed himself deeper. I felt stray drops of water running down my back and hitting my skin as he fucked my face. I couldn’t resist rubbing my hands over his dirty legs, making my hands as dirty as his. Looking up at him, I could see his green eyes stare back at me through the haze of dirt. His mouth fell open as I pushed him into my throat as far as he would go. He loosened his grip on my hair, letting me set the pace for a while.
He urged me to my feet and started pulling my clothes off. My once clean outfit now joined the scrum of mess on the wet floor. All that was left were my white, white panties. He smiled, unable to resist running his dirty fingers over the fabric, all over me. My nipples were suddenly dark brown, my body tattooed with more remnants of the practice pitch. Rubbing my clit through the cotton, he streaked them with the moist mud that remained on his hands. He pressed the wet fabric between my cunt lips, which I soaked again from the other side. When he kissed me, I could taste salty, gritty mud along with his sweet mouth. The dryer purred and tumbled behind us, as the rest of my body turned just as filthy as his.
He turned me around, pushing me forward at the waist. My panties fell to the floor, and after a moment’s hesitation, he entered me. He slipped inside so easily, my pussy stretching over his cock with ease. Pressing his wet chest into my back, he grunted as he fucked me, both of us covered in mud and sweat. He pounded into me hard and fast, forcing me further forward over the dryer. Just as I got used to his pace, he pulled his cock all the way out of me, teasing my clit with the wet head. I eased back as he played with me, trying to get him back inside me. He made me wait, enjoying keeping me on edge.
Without warning, he thrust his cock deep again. His fierceness knocked me off balance, my feet slipping on the wet floor. His hands wrapped around me, finding my breasts, my nipples slipping through slick fingers. I used my own messy hand to rub my clit, not wanting him to stop what he was doing. Pulling gently, my hard nipples ached under his touch, hardening more with each pass of his flesh on mine.
The sound of our two wet bodies moving together; the smell of him, me and the dirt overwhelmed me. I moaned out against the sound of the rain, his teeth sinking into my neck as I came. His hands, now dry and sticky with dirt, clung to my hips, as I bucked against him. His own release followed, his forehead digging into my back as he grunted and sighed. I felt his full weight on my back, the dryer hummed below my chest.
Slowly, we came back to earth and we stood amidst the damage. Mud and water had made their way everywhere, including, somehow, the walls. His smile was the same as it was before; that of a happy, messy boy. I just shook my head at him, surveying the scene.
“I think it’s your turn to do the laundry.”
I walked past him, leaving a trail of muddy footprints on the white carpet.
Try Him on For Size
by Katy Sirls
Chloe wished the store was busier. If it had been, she might have been able to keep herself distracted by helping various customers into dressing rooms or assisting them in finding the perfect ensemble of athletic wear – distracted enough, at least, to keep her eyes safely averted from him. As it was, there were no other customers to assist, and she found herself merely folding and re-folding various articles of clothing, trying desperately to make herself look occupied so that hopefully he wouldn’t notice her continuous glances at him.
He was looking at biking shorts. Slowly and carefully, he picked through them, a
lmost as if the success of his next bike ride depended solely on him picking just the right shorts. He would glance at one pair and put them back, then scrutinize another.
Had it been any other customer, Chloe would have walked right up and asked if he wanted to try a pair on. After all, wasn’t it her job as a sales associate to lead the customers down every possible path that could end in a purchase? This one, though, was different – she wasn’t sure if it was his athletic body, perfectly sculpted beneath his tight shirt and jeans, or perhaps the strands of hair that fell lightly over his dark eyes — but she couldn’t bring herself to even approach him, let alone speak to him.
She was suddenly glad that the store manager was at lunch. Had she been here to witness Chloe becoming speechless at the sight of an attractive man sifting through biking shorts, she would have either laughed at her or verbally reprimanded her – or both, in which case Chloe would have felt like a bigger idiot than she already did. But, as luck would have it, it was just her and the handsome biker in the store, and so she continued the process of folding clothes that didn’t need folding, leaving her one and only customer to fend for himself.
Inevitably, she caught herself looking up at him again only seconds later. He was examining a pair of blue shorts and a matching top. He glanced back and forth between the two, as if trying to figure out whether or not they really went together. In Chloe’s personal opinion, he didn’t need the shirt – she was quite sure he would look just fine in the biker shorts alone.
She felt color rise to her cheeks as she thought of him bare-chested, clad only in close-fitting biker shorts. Once the image was in her mind, however, she let it expand. She could picture him on his bike, whatever bike he happened to own, his hair pulled back and every inch of his body visible except for what was hidden beneath his shorts. The shorts would be shimmering brightly in the sunlight, clinging tightly to his legs and accentuating his muscles. And the bulge between his legs, so carefully hidden by the spandex and yet, at the same time, outlined and on display, would be resting on the seat.
Chloe nearly dropped the shirt she had been folding and immediately forced herself out of her reverie. Embarrassed, she hoped he wouldn’t to look up and see her blushing. To be on the safe side, she turned her back to him and did her best to erase the image from her mind, trying to think of other mindless tasks to keep her occupied. It wasn’t easy.
It was almost a relief when the telephone rang, giving her an excuse to walk to the opposite side of the store from him. On her way, however, she couldn’t resist another look at him. This time, though, when her eyes casually shifted in his direction to take in his Greek-god-like perfection once again, she noticed something was different – this time, he was looking at her, too.
Chloe stopped in her tracks, freezing like a deer caught in headlights. She internally chastised herself for not being able to play it cool, and willed her legs to move forward towards the incessantly ringing store telephone, but they wouldn’t budge. She stared at him, and he stared right back. Their eyes met, and for a moment Chloe’s world stopped in its tracks. She felt out of control of her own body – she was unable to move, her heart was racing, and she knew her face was flushed.
Finally, he turned his attention back to the biking shorts and she was able to force herself forward to the telephone that was sitting by the cash register. It stopped ringing seconds before she reached it, and when she put it to her ear all she heard was a dial tone. Swearing softly to herself, she put the phone down. Maybe whoever it was would call back. Chloe decided it would be a good idea to stay by the phone for a minute or so.
She would have, too, had it not been for the hand she felt on her shoulder only a moment later. Jumping slightly, she spun around and found herself face to face with him, her biking shorts customer who had, only seconds before, been on the other side of the store. Chloe felt her heart speed up again.
She willed herself to say something. Can I help you? Is there something I can help you find? But nothing would come. She could only look up at him and admire everything she saw.
He smiled at her, despite her silence. “I’d like to try these on.”
Chloe saw he was holding two pairs of biking shorts. She wanted to smack herself. “Of course,” she said, fumbling for her keys to the dressing room. She used the excuse of finding the right key to keep her eyes on something other than him. “Right this way.”
She walked quickly, leading the way around the corner to the dressing room stalls. She opened the largest one for him and he began to step inside.
“Oh,” he said, as if a thought had suddenly struck him. “Would you mind grabbing me a top that I can try on with these? I’d like to see how it all fits together.”
“Oh…okay,” Chloe answered, trying hard not to stumble over her words. She wondered why he hadn’t brought shirts with him in the first place, but if a shirt was what he wanted, she would get it for him.
She took a minute or so to browse the shirts that matched the biking shorts. He hadn’t mentioned what size he wanted. She wasn’t good at guessing that kind of thing, either. With a small sigh, she finally took one of each size and headed back to the dressing rooms.
She turned the corner and stopped on a dime. Standing right in front of her, taking in his reflection in the long mirror, was her stunningly handsome customer. He had shed his own clothing, and was now in a pair of biking shorts – and nothing else. They fit him perfectly, outlining his firm, toned thighs. Although she tried to stop herself, she couldn’t keep her eyes from focusing in on his crotch, where through the tight spandex she could perfectly make out the form of his cock and balls.
He turned to greet her with a cordial smile. “Thanks,” he said, acknowledging the shirts she had brought for him. “How do you think the black one will look with these?”
Chloe wished she had the nerve to tell him he looked better in the shorts alone, but the only response she could muster up was to offer up the black shirt he had pointed out.
“Thank you,” he said, glancing quickly down at her name tag, “Chloe.” He began pulling the shirt over his head, not bothering to re-enter the dressing room. “I’m Aidan, by the way.”
Chloe peeked around the corner to make sure no one else had entered the store. It was empty. “Nice to meet you, Aidan.” She let his name roll off her tongue slowly, savoring the sound of it coming from her own mouth. She let the moment last as long as she dared, but after he had the shirt on she regrettably knew she had to return to the store.
At last, she took a deep breath. “If you need anything else…” She let her words trail off, letting him know she was there if he needed anything, and announcing her departure at the same time.
“Actually,” Aidan piped up before she had a chance to leave the dressing room area, “I’m having trouble with this zipper.” He pointed to the small zipper near the back of his neck and smiled at her again. “Would you mind?”
Mind? Chloe thought, taking a step towards him. “Of course not.”
He turned around, causing Chloe to nearly gasp at the full sight of his butt so tightly clad in the biking shorts. Breathing slowly, her hands shaking slightly, she moved in close to him and reached up to finish zipping the shirt. She worked slowly, as slowly as she could, for she didn’t want it to end. Her hot breath bounced off his back, only inches from her face, and warmed her lips. Her hand brushed against the back of his neck, sending a tingling wave shooting down her arm.
She was three-quarters of the way up when he turned suddenly, facing her. She kept her hand on the zipper, not willing to let it go. He inched closer to her, staring down into her eyes. Chloe felt herself tremble as he moved closer still, until their bodies were touching. She felt his unmistakable hardness on her leg, and she desperately wanted to reach down and grab it, her other hand free to reach around and grasp his butt. She didn’t, though – her hand remained firmly on the zipper.
Slowly, she began zipping again, her eyes never leaving his. She reached the top,
but he didn’t acknowledge her completion of the task he had given her. Instead, he stared intently into her eyes, almost as if to say, Would you really rather be folding shirts right now?
Chloe hardly dared to believe this man, this sexy man whom she hadn’t been able to stop thinking about since he entered the store, was standing before her now in tight biking shorts, rock hard and close up against her. Despite herself, she began to grow hot and shifted ever so slightly so that his erection, still tight beneath the shorts, was pressed against her crotch.
As she did so, he took a deep gasp of air. She felt his hand on the small of her back, and the look in his eyes shifted ever so slightly, his gaze boring fixedly into her. Chloe felt as though he was asking, without words, Do you want this as much as I do?
“Yes,” she whispered, though he had not spoken. She didn’t know what else to say. She wanted him, desperately wanted him, and felt herself grow swollen with longing.
He leaned down, his mouth suddenly on hers, and they fervently embraced. Chloe found herself slowly grinding against the hardness of his cock, and Aidan pulled away ever so slightly, smiling down at her as if to say, Wait… just wait. And then his mouth was on her neck. He pulled the neckline of her shirt over her shoulder, and she felt his hot breath on her bare skin. She quivered in anticipation.
All at once, his hands were under her shirt, unhooking her bra. He clutched her waist, moving his grasp up slowly until they were firmly on her breasts. Gracefully, he pulled her shirt over her head and tossed it aside. Chloe shivered for a moment as the cool air hit her back – or was his hands were slowly making their way down to her waist? – and, without the grace that Aidan had shown, reached behind him and feverishly began to undo the zipper she had just finished zipping up. In seconds, the shirt was over his head.
She looked down at his shorts, and the outline of the throbbing cock within them. She traced her hand lightly down his chest and stomach until it was resting on his crotch. He trembled excitedly. “You know, now that I look at these,” she mused, “I don’t think they flatter you at all.”