by Selena Kitt
"Fill me, lover," she whispered, her dark eyes on mine, and I did. There couldn't have been much left in me, but whatever there was, it was hers. Her fingers trailed over my forehead, my cheek, my chest, my belly, like she was raining soothing medicine down over me.
Looking up at her through half-closed eyes, I smiled and croaked, "Witch." She smiled back, squeezing her pussy around me and laughed, low and throaty, when I jumped. I waited as she settled in beside me, her usual place, head tucked under my chin. I was dreading the inevitable rise of my cock again, but it didn't come. I would have stayed awake wondering, letting my mind race about it all, but exhaustion won out. I slept peacefully with Betsy curled into the crook of my arm like a soft, black cat.
CHAPTER SIX: Day 20
It was driving me crazy! I'd been smelling them all day—those candies that the old guy on TV always keeps in his pocket for his grandkid, those Werther's ones, butter rum or whatever they were. I'd actually checked my damned pockets while I was taking my history final (who the hell knew the five major causes of the second world war, I mean really, could we narrow it down some more?) because the smell was so strong, I was sure there were some in there.
I forgot about it when Betsy finally answered her cell. I just kept hitting redial on the walk home from class. She agreed to meet after she was off work at the book store. I couldn't get enough of her. Smelling those candies had made me hungry, and I grabbed four slices of bologna and two slices of cheese out of the fridge. Line of mustard down the middle, fold, gone in three bites. Yum.
The smell hit me as soon as I opened the door. Werther's again! Wow, it was strong! It seemed like the smells got stronger with every passing day. I hadn't noticed it this morning before I left, but day twenty was open. She was right. I didn't have to open them. They just opened all by themselves. I stripped down to my jeans and flipped on the TV. QVC. Flip. Animal Planet. Flip. Discovery Channel. Hey, dung beetles! Cool! Flip. TNT. Reruns of Dark Angel. Now we're talking! Jessica Alba was hot—those full lips and dark eyes—and her genuine smile was so like Betsy's.
I liked watching her mouth move. Whew, she’s got a hot little body. Had to love goth girls, all dressed in black. My cock, no longer my mortal enemy, was pressing against the seam, asking for release. I unzipped, relieving a little pressure. Better. I hadn't intended to jerk off, but when I muted the TV and just watched her, she reminded me even more of Betsy, and the more I imagined Betsy, the harder I got. Vicious circle. I eased my cock out of my underwear, nudging my jeans down a little. A few strokes to warm him up before Betsy gets here won't hurt.
Somehow I got lost in a fantasy of Betsy bent over our living room couch in some dark goth-girl outfit. I was fucking her standing up, bending at my knees to get some good, deep thrust action. The best part was the black or purple lipstick she was wearing. I'd never seen her wear it, but my imagination seemed to know just what she'd look like in it, and my cock really seemed to respond to it. I had to squeeze tight at the tip a few times to slow myself down. Damn, why was it so hard to stop once you got started?
The fantasy shifted, and now she was sucking me with that dark-rimmed mouth—oh fuck, that was too hot. I heard myself whispering, "Yeah, baby, that's fucking good, suck it," thrusting up in my hand/her mouth, watching her dark lipstick smear down my shaft. Hand in her hair, fucking her throat now, "Take it, Betsy, take it you little cockwhore!" Lost in the fantasy, my voice grew louder.
"Cockwhore, am I?" Betsy's voice from the doorway made me jump and, I am ashamed to say, I'm pretty sure I screamed like a girl, instinctively grabbing for something to cover myself, my heart hammering.
"Jesus!" I was panting, both from my wank and from the scare. "Could you knock?"
"Was I sucking you?" she murmured. It was the first time I noticed that she had her hand stuck down her under her skirt. My erection, beginning to wane, returned with a vengeance when I saw her hand moving between her legs.
"Yeah," I admitted, grinning sheepishly. "How long have you been there?"
"Long enough." She came over to the bed, pulling her skirt up to her waist. Red panties, and I could see a damp spot on them, right where her fingers were moving underneath. "Keep going," she encouraged, nodding toward my stiffening cock. I did, grabbing and stroking, watching her hand move faster in her panties. She pulled her turtleneck up above her breasts, and pulled down one bra cup so she could tweak her nipple.
"I want to see your pussy."
She smiled, pushing her panties down, the crotch catching between her lips as she tugged. I was jerking with my left, but my right hand went immediately for her pussy, my fingers finding her hole and pressing up into her. She sighed, still concentrating on her clit, her other hand, palm flat, rubbing against her nipple. My fingers slipping in and out of her reminded my cock what he was missing. Pre-cum was making it a slicker, sticky affair.
"Take your clothes off.”
She did, quickly pulling off her shirt, her bra. She hesitated a moment at her skirt and panties. She gave me a mischievous little smile and turned around, bending over and lifting her skirt, giving me full view of her smooth little clamshell. She was glistening wet. She must have been watching me for a while. She slid her panties the rest of the way off, and spread her legs further, opening her pussy with her fingers, showing me.
My hand was like lightning on my dick now, nothing but a slippery, slapping blur. "Don't stop," she whispered. "I love watching you do that." I groaned, seeing her finger herself and lick her lips as she watched me over her shoulder. She was fucking herself with three fingers now, and she slowly backed toward the bed. As soon as she was in reach, my hand was on her, roaming over her smooth, round ass, spreading her wetness over her thighs.
"Hold still." She slipped her fingers out of her pussy and moved to sit on the bed. Or, at least, that's what I thought she was doing. But as she backed up and positioned herself directly over me, I realized what she meant to do, and I held my cock steady, breathless. I was still stretched out on the bed, and she was hovering over me at a direct perpendicular, lifting her skirt and bending like she was about to take a pee. She sighed when she felt the tip of my cock touch her lips, and she sat fully down onto me, glancing over her shoulder to look into my eyes. Her skirt, a sleek, black, shiny thing, brushed against my belly and thighs. She wiggled on me and I groaned, feeling my cock shift inside of her.
"You have to help me a little." She leaned up slightly, balancing herself with her hands on the edge of the bed. I nodded, turning toward her as she slid up my shaft and back down again. The position alone was enough to push me more than halfway there. Couple that with the fact that I'd already been jerking for half an hour before she showed up, and I knew I wasn't going to last very long. I was going to try to hold out long enough. We caught a quick rhythm, her fucking back on me like that as fast as she could. I lifted her skirt to her waist, holding it there, watching her ass slam into me and her thighs work. The muscles were long and tight, and they flexed like she was running as she rode me. She was working hard, her body starting to accumulate a fine sheen of sweat. I could feel it on her ass and the backs of her thighs as she fucked me.
The best part was watching her face in the mirror over the dresser. Her eyes were closed, her expression a cross between pleasure and determination as she vaulted up and down on my cock. I slid my hand up her back, grabbing a handful of that long, dark hair, and pulling her head back slightly. She gasped and growled as I used the leverage to thrust up harder into her, feeling myself nearing my breaking point. Her head back, her throat exposed like that, her mouth slightly open, she was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen. She whispered something unintelligible, almost like chanting, and the breathy sound and cadence of it coupled with the heat and squeeze of her on my cock was more than enough. That was the image I came to—Betsy completely abandoned and writhing against my crotch, murmuring over and over something I couldn't even understand. I don't think I'd ever come so hard, and with every wave, just as I thought it
was over, her pussy would squeeze me, pulling me deeper, and I would give her more of me. It went on and on, as if I could give her all of me.
When she curled up beside me and feathered kisses on my lips, I swore she tasted like Werther's candy. I found myself asking her, impossibly, "Do you want to come to my family's for Christmas?" and she smiled dreamily and said, "Maybe. We'll see."
CHAPTER SEVEN: Day 25
There was nothing but lame ass Hallmark shit on TV. I was tempted to go play the X-Box but most of our games weren't much fun without two players and Tyler had left yesterday to spend the week with his family. I stopped flipping channels to check my watch. Betsy was supposed to pick me up. Dinner and presents at my mom's started at two. Oh great, a Very Fucking Brady Christmas. Perfect holiday fare. Ok, so Marsha was hot, but she was blonde, and I wasn't into blondes anymore.
My cell vibrated in my pocket, sending a jolt straight to my balls. I grinned. It had to be Betsy. I flipped it open without looking and said, "Hey sexy, you coming?"
"Oh... uh... Jay?"
"Yeah...?" I sat up, not recognizing the voice. Oh shit, did I just call my Aunt Sylvia sexy?
"Hi, Jay. I was just calling to wish you a Merry Christmas." I couldn't place the voice, but it wasn't Aunt Sylvia. This girl was young.
"Well, thanks..." My mind was racing. "You, too."
"You don't know who this is, do you?" she asked. Fuck. Was I going to have to admit it? Wow, she sounded really disappointed. I felt bad, but I didn't say anything. "It's Evie. You know, from the bar." The blonde. That night, oh my god, she left crying and I let her walk home in the cold.
"Yeah... listen... hey... about that night... I wasn't... did you... make it home ok?" Christ, that was pathetic. I cringed.
"Oh, it was fine. My girlfriend was still at the bar, remember?”
Betsy? I remembered them dancing together.
“Anyway, I just wanted to call and say Merry Christmas."
"Well, thanks." I muted the TV, watching Jan talk to Cindy—who couldn't possibly be the same chick, but she was pretty hot, so who cared? "So what are you up to today?"
"Oh, nothing, really. My family isn't in state, and I couldn't afford to fly home. I'm just hanging around in the dorms." God, she sounded sad.
"That sucks.”
"Yeah, well... I'm used to it. So what about you?"
"Oh, my mom always has dinner for me and my brother." I didn't want to tell her I was taking Betsy. Why add insult to injury?
"Jay?" Her voice was so small.
"Yeah?"
"That night..." she began. I cringed. Oh, great...here it comes. "It was really something. I like you... I wanted to you to know that. I really like you a lot."
I sat there, stunned. Ok. Not what I was expecting at all. Funny, but I liked her, too, now, all of a sudden—a girl all alone on Christmas day.
"Well... I like you, too." I hit the power button on the remote and watched the TV go black. I glanced at the calendar underneath. I could still smell the cranberries. I'd been smelling them all night long.
"You do?" Wow, she sounded happy. Really happy. I felt suddenly guilty for no reason whatsoever.
"Yeah." I glanced at the calendar again, and noticed it looked askew. As if it had moved, or been moved. No, not exactly. The right side of it looked...what the hell? Weird! I approached it carefully, giving it a wide berth. Evie was talking about something—ordering pizza on Christmas. I was tempted to ask her to my mom's. I leaned against my dresser, and realized that the side of the calendar was open. Or opening.
"Listen, I wanted to tell you something else, Jay... it's very important..."
"Hey, Evie, can you hold on a minute?" I set the phone on the dresser and knelt near the calendar although I could still hear her talking about something. There was a separation between the cardboard back, and the doors on the front. It should have been white underneath, considering it was white behind the black doors, but it wasn't. It was black. I flicked the edge with my finger, and it moved a little toward me, like it was on hinges.
My heart was beating fast, but my curiosity got the best of me. No wonder it had to be so damned big—the whole thing was a door! I couldn't resist seeing what was behind it. Maybe this was my payoff. This was what I'd been waiting for as doors popped open, counting down to today. I swung the calendar door open quickly and stepped back. Nothing. Just blackness. It just looked like cardboard. So much for Narnia.
"Jay?" I heard Evie's voice on my cell. I grabbed for the phone, laughing out loud a little nervously, but I stopped when I saw something. It was a glimmer at first, in the middle of the calendar, like some muted light from the inside. I reached my finger out for it, hesitated, and then touched it. It was warm. Whoa! My throat felt suddenly very dry. I looked around the room, as if to ask someone if they were seeing what I was seeing.
"Jay?" Evie's voice again, louder. The light grew brighter, moving from a dull gray in the center toward the edges, like the way old TVs used to fade out when you turned them off, only backwards, in gradual shades. I sat transfixed, like I was seeing a painting revealed a layer at a time. I realized, suddenly, that I knew that image, and knew it well.
"Betsy." My voice was hoarse. She was in the distance. I could see her plain as could be now, standing at the end of...a hallway? I reached my hand just slightly into, no fucking shit, into the door, and felt the cool surface of brick or cement. I leaned my head in a little. Sure enough. I could see where the mortar had been laid. It was a wall. Both sides. I couldn't see a floor, but I was sure there was one, because Betsy was standing on it way down there in the hallway. She was holding a candle, her hand cupped around the flame to keep it from flickering. She was smiling at me, beckoning me, and my cock jumped when I realized that she was wearing nothing at all. Fuck Narnia, this is Nirvana!
I couldn't walk through the door, but I could crawl, and I ducked my head under and edged through, my heart pounding, my eyes fixed on Betsy in the distance. She was urgent, calling me, although I couldn't quite hear her.
"Jay?" Wow, Evie's voice sounded very far away now. I was crawling on a cement floor, my head near the ceiling. It was dark in here, although there was a slight glow when I looked back into my room. The sensation made my stomach flip, looking backward, seeing my bed, my dresser, the phone still open on it. Ahead of me I could see Betsy, standing still, and I could hear her very clearly now, calling me to come to her, the flickering light of the candle warmly illuminating her breasts.
I hesitated, not liking how gray things were growing behind me. But Betsy was calling, compelling me onward. I could almost stand now. The further away from the door I got, the taller the ceiling seemed to get. Perspective, I realized. Betsy loomed larger now. I judged that I was about halfway to her.
"Jay?" I could barely hear Evie. My room looked about the size of a television screen from where I was standing, like I was watching a movie of my room. My jaw dropped when my bedroom door opened, and Betsy was standing there. What the fuck?
She came toward the calendar, the door I'd crawled through, grabbing my phone off the dresser as she went, and bent down and looked inside. It was cold in here, and suddenly it felt colder. Now I could hear Evie more clearly. "Jay, please! Listen to me! Whatever you do, don't go through the door!"
It was as if it were all happening in some weird slow motion time-lapse. Betsy was talking on the phone, now, as I called to her, and I saw her smile. She waved at me, and it was just my knee-jerk reaction to wave back, totally confused. I was listening to her talk but my brain wasn't really registering what she was saying.
"Evie? It's Betz. It's all over... Oh, don't cry, sweetie, this is what you wanted, remember?... I know, but I told you about love spells and guys like him… I warned you, Evie! Guys like Jay just don’t know how to treat a woman, and he deserves everything he’s getting after what he did to you… Yes, but at least you and I can start fresh. A new beginning... I'll be over in 10 minutes... Shh, it's all gonna be ok... Love you."
>
This can't be happening. My nut sack shriveled and my balls felt like they were two tight little stones as I scrambled toward the only light left—the light coming in from my suddenly far-off but achingly familiar bedroom.
Then, I had an abrupt, chilling thought.
If that's Betsy... then who...?
I turned around in the darkness, and heard the door slam behind me.
The End
ABOUT SELENA KITT
Like any feline, Selena Kitt loves the things that make her purr-and wants nothing more than to make others purr right along with her! Pleasure is her middle name, whether it's a short cat nap stretched out in the sun or a long kitty bath. She makes it a priority to explore all the delightful distractions she can find, and follow her vivid and often racy imagination wherever it wants to lead her.
Her writing embodies everything from the spicy to the scandalous, but watch out-this kitty also has sharp claws and her stories often include intriguing edges and twists that take readers to new, thought-provoking depths.
When she's not pawing away at her keyboard, Selena runs an innovative publishing company (www. excessica. com) and in her spare time, she worships her devoted husband, corrals four kids and a dozen chickens, all while growing an organic garden. She also loves bellydancing and photography.
Her book EcoErotica, was a 2009 Eppie Finalist, her book, The Real Mother Goose, was a 2010 Eppie Finalist, her book Heidi and the Kaiser was a 2011 Epic Award Finalist as well as her story, Second Chance. Her story, Connections, was one of the runners-up for the 2006 Rauxa Prize, given annually to an erotic short story of "exceptional literary quality," out of over 1,000 nominees, where awards are judged by a select jury and all entries are read "blind" (without author's name available.)