Summer Shorts 2

by Huck Pilgrim

  Joanie begins to gently rock her hips, riding his hand. She can feel her sodden panties, wet from her own secretions, rubbing against her swollen labia.

  The bathroom is eerily quiet, the only sound an occasional muted cheer from the game. Don is gazing into the wall mirror, intently watching its reflection of the door. Joanie wonders what he is thinking. She notices a small tuft of chest hair billowing out the neck of his T-shirt. Joanie thinks of her own father—an overweight butcher, who comes home each night, eats dinner, and then loses himself in hefty tomes on mathematics.

  Don casts his eyes toward her. He sees her watching him and grins. Joanie feels oddly pleased by his willingness to look her in the eye.

  Acknowledge her.

  He stops fondling her. Reaching for the hem of her skirt, he lifts it high. Taking half a step back, Don tilts his whole torso and looks up her skirt.

  Joanie smiles nervously. She squeezes her thighs together. Rocks her hips forward. Not sure what to do with her hands, she puts them behind her back.

  He takes a good long look under her uniform skirt.

  She grabs her elbow. Waits.

  “Nice,” he says. He looks her in the eye, his rugged gaze catching her off guard again. She feels her body flush with warmth, but she can’t tell if it is humiliation or sexual desire.

  “Take those off,” he says.

  He drops her skirt. Turns his attention to the door.

  He expects her to simply obey. This is what she had planned, but she’d imagined she’d be more in control. She feels off balance. Nervous.

  “It’s okay,” Don says. He’s looking at her again. Sizing her up.

  “We’re all alone,” he whispers.

  She presses her back to the wall. Looks toward the door.

  “No one will know,” he says. “You can do it.”

  He uses a firm, reassuring tone to say this last part. This tone, more than anything else, persuades Joanie to remove her panties.

  She hikes her skirt and grabs the waist of her panties. Pushing them down her thighs, she carefully steps out of them. The floor is grimy. Her heart is hammering and she doesn’t want to fall over. Her black leather shoes glow in the florescent overheads.

  She stands. Grins shyly. She’s twisting her panties in her hands.

  “Perfect,” Don says. She feels a warm glow.

  He takes her by the elbow and leads her to one of the urinals. “Bend over,” he says. “Hold onto this.” He indicates the shiny valve above the urinal.

  Joanie stands dumbfounded for a second, even though she feels willing to comply. Her stomach tumbles. What to do with her panties? Give them to him? Without a word, she holds out her underwear to Don. She uses both her hands, like an offering.

  He takes them in his hand. Makes a satisfied hum.

  She dutifully grabs hold of the gleaming plumbing and bends over, presenting her bottom. Don slips his hand under her skirt from behind. He runs his fingers lightly over her bare sex. Her pubic mound is soaked.

  She exhales noisily when he touches her down there. She moans, lowering her head between her shoulders, her arms looped over the plumbing.

  She’s ready for this. More than ready.

  He turns to the fixture next to her, draping her panties over the edge of the trough. Joanie rises, reaching for her undies, but Don steps between her and the bowl.

  His hand caresses the back of her neck. “It’s fine,” he says. “Fine.”

  He wants her to know that the panties aren’t the most important thing tonight. He softly coos to her. Comforts her. Licking his fingertips, he places his hand under her skirt again. Gently rubs her bare sex from behind. While his fingers work her pussy, he slips his thumb between the warm globes of her ass. Joanie loses herself in the fingers probing her slippery sex. Raising her bottom, she hangs onto the plumbing.

  He tells her what he intends to do with her. How he wants to use her. Ride her pussy. His language becomes more coarse. None of the boys talk like this. She finds it strangely compelling. Relationships can be such mind games, but this is nothing like that. This is just about fucking. This is about relief.

  She begins to gently undulate her hips, softly moaning again. He stands by her side, one hand is on her breast, the other between her legs. He is playing her like a keyboard, his hard cock still mostly in his pants. He says he wants to fuck her hot little slit. Fill her cunt.

  She lets him have his way. Talk however he likes.

  Don moves around behind her and lifts her skirt. Rests it on her back. His pants are open and his shirt is up. He has a tornado of dark hair on his lower abdomen, a long, slender cock.

  He strokes himself. Rubs his cock head on the lips of her pussy.

  He’s about to do it. To do her.

  For some reason, Joanie thinks of Sister Margret Mary, a nun who befriended her years ago in middle school. This sister knew Joanie liked to read and took it upon herself to stock the little bookshelf in the rectory with Nancy Drew mysteries. Joanie feels a tingly feeling in the center of her chest. She wants to tell Don about the nun, the paperback mystery novels, her kindness. But it all seems so random and difficult to explain. Before she can turn her thoughts and feelings into language, Don pushes his cock between her legs, spearing her moist flesh.

  Joanie groans. She forgets the sister. She forgets kindness.

  It feels good to have a dick inside her.

  Hard thrusts follow, his groin slapping time on her ass. She has to push against the urinal to prevent her head from going inside it. She doesn’t want her cheek to come to rest on the back wall of the toilet.

  Sometimes he changes rhythm, stops thrusting and grinds his groin against her bottom. Joanie likes this part. She can relax her arms, grind herself back against him.

  He changes the things he is saying to her. Instead of talking about what he wants to do, he talks about her. He whispers that she is a slut. A hot little bathroom fuck.

  Something about this older man whispering something so nasty makes her crazy with desire. She has never thought of herself this way and it’s turning her on. She twists on his cock. Maybe she is a slut, a hot little pump. Just as she begins to let go, really revel in her newfound wickedness, she hears the door to the bathroom catch on its hydraulics. It makes that soft sighing sound again and Joanie gasps in horror.

  Someone has entered the bathroom!

  She tries to stand and push her skirt down over her bottom, but Don is still inside her, pushing his cock deeper. He is chuckling. He doesn’t seem at all concerned with getting caught fucking her in here.

  “Whoa, whoa,” he says.

  One of his hands is on the back of her neck, the other is on her hip. He is doing that thing she likes so much where he grinds his dick inside her. She can’t stand up. Can’t push her skirt down far enough to protect her modesty. Can’t hide what she is doing.

  Joanie turns her face to the back wall of the restroom.

  The person who entered the bathroom is talking, but Joanie can’t make out much of what he’s saying. Don is still grinding into her, only his dick feels more like an indictment now. It’s hard and warm, slipping in and out of her wet flesh, a stark reminder that only seconds ago she was squirming in delight.

  Don says he found her in here.

  He says he doesn’t even know her name.

  He says she’s a good little fuck. A hot piece of ass.

  Joanie listens, softly mewls. It all sounds so tawdry and terrible, and the worst part is that none of what he’s saying is a lie. Joanie feels such shame wash over her.

  He resumes his thrusts.

  “Come on, baby,” Don says. “We’re almost done. Almost home.”

  To keep her face from the urinal, Joanie has to push with her arms and make her ass meet each of his plunges. It feels degrading to participate this way, especially with someone else in the room, but what can she do? She doesn’t want her face pressed into the urinal. She braces herself. Don’s thrusts are moving her toward orgasm, ev
en though an orgasm is the possibly last thing she wants to experience right now.

  Just as she believes she will never experience anything more humiliating in all her life, Joanie hears this: “Joanie Salinger? Is that you, Joanie?”

  Something in her stomach does a lazy roll. Don slows his thrusts and starts to grind on her. He laughs. Joanie’s mouth is open, and she can hear her own heavy breathing.

  She slowly turns her head.

  This new person is wearing work pants. Boots.

  “Joanie,” he says. “Joanie Salinger.” He drags out the vowels in her name.

  He is standing at the urinal. His pants are open and he is relieving himself. He has a tangle of dark tattoos on his tanned, muscular arms.

  It’s Eddie Sims, but Joanie doesn’t recognize him at first. All she knows is that he’s her age. Maybe a little bit older. He has white blonde hair, a cheap dye job with black roots at the scalp. Dark brows, dark whiskers. Soulful brown eyes.

  “You’re fucking Joanie Salinger,” Eddie says.

  Don chuckles. Joanie can feel his cock rotating inside her. A perverse wave of pleasure passes through her and she closes her eyes.

  “You okay?” Eddie asks. His voice is suddenly serious. His eyes go the length of her body. Eddie gives Don a noncommittal look, the kind of look one man gives another to size him up. At exactly that moment, Joanie recognizes Eddie.

  “Eddie,” she says. “Eddie Sims?”

  Her voice is weak, unsteady. She has not seen him since elementary school. He was her first boyfriend. He went to Juvenile Hall about the same time she went to Saint Barnaby’s School for Girls.

  Eddie grins. He looks at Don smugly. Triumphantly.

  Don starts to pump her, and Joanie pushes back into his plunges. Wet sounds come from between her legs. His groin slaps her bottom. The more he plows her pussy in front of Eddie, the more comfortable she becomes with the whole situation. If anything, she feels a little pleased that it’s Eddie standing witness, a boy who has always been a bit of a rebel himself.

  She feels maybe even a little safer with him in here, watching, as Don turns her out.

  Eddie turns to look into the urinal. It’s a shy gesture, almost as if he were trying to give her some privacy. “I thought you were going out with Roger,” Eddie says softly.

  Joanie scoffs, shaking her head at the ridiculousness of the question. Don snorts and then chuckles softly, his cock deep inside her. Joanie instantly regrets mocking Eddie’s question about Roger. It makes her look cheap. Makes Eddie look weak.

  Worse, it makes Don look more dominant than maybe he deserves.

  Eddie turns to face her. His pants are open. He has a thick cock, soft now and only just becoming hard, but clearly a tool.

  “You mind,” Eddie says.

  Joanie raises her eyes and sees that Eddie is addressing Don.

  Don slows his strokes.

  Eddie meets her eyes, but he says nothing.

  Joanie remembers in grade school, holding his hand under the cafeteria table. Walking to the library together. Talking on the telephone in her mother’s dining room until the wee hours of the night. She takes his swelling cock in her hand.

  He sucks in his breath. Makes a growling noise in his throat.

  She has never fucked two boys at the same time before. Bending over, Joanie scoops him into her mouth. He is warm. Salty. She washes his cock with her tongue and works it with her hands. For a few minutes, the only sounds are wet noises coming from Joanie’s mouth. Fully erect, Eddie’s cock is long and proud, a sight to behold—a great clipped head, attached to a long shaft that twists a few degrees to the right, like a comet turning as it glides through space.

  “Joanie broke my heart in the sixth grade,” Eddie says to no one in particular.

  His cock is deep in her mouth. She can’t tell if Eddie is serious or just fooling around. She has no unpleasant memory of their relationship ending. It just seems to have faded away into the mists of time.

  “—and now she’s sucking your cock in the Carnal gym,” Don says.

  Everyone laughs.

  Joanie’s eyes twinkle. She uses her fist to wipe the saliva from her mouth.

  Eddie and Don talk trash. They discuss the girls in the gym tonight. The merits of the cheerleaders for both sides. Eddie pulls his cock from her mouth. He says he saw Roger in the gym tonight. Joanie’s heart soars, and she feels ashamed.

  She looks up and realizes Eddie is not talking to her.

  He taps her cheek with the wet head of his cock. It makes a hollow sound. He admits he never liked Roger. Eddie says that when he finishes, he is going to go find Roger. Send him into the bathroom.

  Joanie feels that old familiar rage at her core. She still loves Roger Bones.

  Eddie moves behind her. Don sits on the trough of the urinal, insisting Joanie rest her head in his lap while she gets fucked. The head of his cock waves lazily near her face.

  Nuzzling her face against his wet cock, Joanie wonders if she will ever forgive Roger Bones.

  Don pets her head.

  Eddie slides his cock inside her and Joanie groans. The difference between Eddie and Don astonishes her—she feels so full! Eddie begins to swing his cock in and out of her, using long strokes that fill her completely.

  Eddie ends each stroke by letting his groin lightly kiss her bottom.

  Her pussy is making loud sloppy noises. Joanie wonders if Don didn’t quietly come inside of her during his turn. Her bottom is soaked. She can’t quite focus enough to give Don head or do much anything but hold on. Pressing her sweaty head into his tummy, Joanie screws her eyes shut. She enjoys the ride. No one is more surprised than her at what happens next: an orgasm wracks her whole body. She grits her teeth and moans loudly. Tightens the muscles in her groin. Her body rides wave after wave of pleasure.

  Eddie comes next. He groans, presses his groin into her. She can feel his cock draining between her legs. Looking back, she sees his face contorted in lust. When he finally catches his breath, he laughs.

  Joanie takes Don’s cock in her hand. Jacks his cock. When Eddie slips his cock out of her, she squats in front of Don, her knees slanting out in front of her. She lifts his cock and licks his balls. Runs the flat of her tongue along the bottom of his shaft.

  Don stands. He takes his dick from her. Strokes himself.

  Resting his hand on her head, he tilts her face up. Joanie knows what will come next—Don will come on her face. She licks her lips. Waits. Placing her hands on Don’s hips to steady herself, she watches as his fist slides along his cock. Joanie hears Eddie say something. Don glances up for a second, but keeps stroking his cock.

  Joanie hears the bathroom door sigh.

  Her heart is racing in her ears. She feels something wet dripping from between her legs. She wonders what this is, then realizes that Eddie’s cum is draining from her pussy, even as she is waiting for Don to splash more cum on her face. A wave of deliciously warm pleasure washes over her.

  She is a slutty girl. A bathroom pump.

  Joanie opens her mouth a tiny bit and moans. She closes her mouth to swallow, but then opens it again. This time she opens it wide. Extends her tongue. Waits.

  Don groans, gives her what she wants. He comes. The first shot jets out over her open mouth, a stringy rope that land in her blue hair. More goes on her cheek. She gets a large dollop in her mouth and immediately swallows. Don makes a satisfied sigh. He strokes himself until Joanie’s chin and cheeks are wet with his cum.

  Shaking his dick one final time, Don finishes. Zips his pants.

  He grins at Joanie.

  Joanie stands. A small puddle of cum sits on the floor beneath where she squatted. She looks for Eddie but he is gone.

  Don fishes her panties out of the urinal. Balling them into his fist, he gives them a mighty squeeze. Joanie sees liquid run from between his fingers. He shakes his fist into the bowl—once, twice. She can see the spray hit the back of the bowl.

  “Here,” Don says. �
�Your panties.” He says this in that firm, fatherly voice that Joanie has such difficulty refusing.

  She tries to decline, but Don puts his hand on the back of her neck. Using the damp panties, he mops his cum from her cheeks and chin. From her hair. Joanie keeps her lips sealed. Waits for him to finish. Some unpleasantries are just unavoidable.

  He takes her hand. Closes her small fist around the panties with both his hands.

  “Put them on,” he says. “You can do it.”

  He watches as she pulls her panties up. When she’s done, Don says she’s amazing. He rubs her bottom through her skirt. Tells her to wait a few minutes after he leaves, then to come out herself. He turns and goes.

  The bathroom door sighs behind him.

  Joanie is alone.

  Smoothing her skirt, she looks into the mirror. Is she amazing? Beautiful? She tucks her hair behind her ear. She feels the clammy cotton of her panties against her bottom and wonders if she should remove them. Walk home with nothing on underneath her skirt. Or maybe she should just leave it for now—take a warm bath once she gets home. She can already feel her body heat warming the cotton. The longer she lives with the uncomfortable feelings, the less they seem to bother her: For the first time in a long time, she feels satisfied. Somehow lighter. She feels something warming, somewhere inside her chest.

  NEW TITLES FROM PILGRIM PRESS

  Watch for more Summer Shorts volumes and Carnal singles in 2013. If you like the work, let us know with a rating, a review, or a visit to the Pilgrim Press blog: http://huckpilgrim.wordpress.com.

  Stories from Huck Pilgrim

  A Snowball’s Chance

  In “A Snowball’s Chance,” Jake Benson refuses to let Cho Jones date his son, Billy. Jake is a philanderer who doesn’t really care about anyone’s needs but his own. Cho Jones is out to prove she’s not the sweet young girl Mr. Benson thinks she is. Cho is right! She is going to give Jake a “taste” of his own medicine. Billy is going to get a little “taste,” too. Poor Billy may not understand the strange briny flavor in his mouth after he kisses sweet Cho, but his father knows. Oh, yes, his father knows what that salty taste is.