by Savannah May
Our hands are a tangle everywhere at once, I let go of the brown bag obviously. Not caring that it goes tumbling to the ground. From the corner of my eye I see packages and cartons rolling on the floor. I don’t care. Screw the whipped cream. I have only one thought in my mind and it’s consuming me.
I thread my fingers into the long hair at the back of his neck. Light curls at the ends where it’s grown out and I drag his mouth deeper into mine. That makes him more incensed and his large palm cups my ass cheek while yanking on the back of my thigh.
He tugs it up to lift and hook back around his pelvis. Then he presses his lower half into me and his heat spreads through my open folds making me shudder with rising goosebumps.
“Now,” I moan into his mouth which comes out as an indecipherable sound of pure begging.
Now, I want him now, inside me, filling me, pushing the craving out to my edges and out through my trembling skin.
He seems to take on board my pleading because his fingers slide up my thigh toward the crotch of my panties. He’ll pull it to the side and delve his hard fingers into my slickness. He’ll circle around the hard point that’s driving me insane with needy throbbing.
Except.
Oh my god, the granny underwear. I almost jolt right out of his grasps although that would be impossible seeing as I’m pinned to the wall under his solid form. Even his mouth is holding me immovable. The back of my head is stapled to the brick wall as his tongue wraps around mine, drawing me into him. His fingers glide over that soft crease at the very top of my thigh. The sensitive flesh there shivers, part ravenous, part devastated. He hooks into my underwear and tears it across and the solid safe material hardly budges.
He releases my mouth and his eyes slide down my body. His gorgeous face is less than an inch from mine so his hot breath falls on my upper lip. I want to suck him right back into my mouth and hold him there. But his eyes are twinkling again like there are diamond sparkles in the coal black irises.
“You’re wearing your chastity belt?” He husks out, his voice filled with the exact same need and lust coursing through me.
I can’t think of a witty response to excuse my hideous underwear and then he’s lowering himself again.
God no.
He’s dropping to his knees, nipping at my swollen tender flesh as he goes. His hands trail over my mounds and the curve of my waist, over my hips where he shoves my dress apart roughly and lets out a noise when my panties come into view.
“I could have used these at the front, to scare off the insurgents,” he says.
I can’t help but laugh aloud.
Before I have the chance to utter a lame excuse, he yanks them down my thighs. Then leaving them halfway, he pulls apart my soaking folds. The cool air sends a spark through me but only for an instant before the heat of the man’s mouth covers my swollen ache.
“Oh my god,” I groan at the ceiling.
My head tips back as I pant through the shards of white light ripping through my core. My hand claws his shoulder, the other tangles his hair around my fingers, tugging it hard enough to hurt.
His tongue takes long swoops along the length of my clit, knowing exactly where the pulsations are most intense. I can only gasp at the air, loudly. Great gulps and yelps and moans rolled into one. No one has ever yanked such violent contractions from my pussy. It’s too much. The explosion when it comes is going to be too much. It’s going to render me a quivering heap of senseless inanimate flesh like a blob in a sea of cream.
I let out a sound I’ve never heard come from me before. Like a wild animal trapped and thrashing around for freedom. Then this stranger sucks my swollen clit into his mouth, keeping his lips compressed enough so that every nerve ending fires off one after another and the explosion moves to the edge.
“Oh, ah,” I pant through every sensation firing through me as he circles around the point in his mouth.
Like he’s lapping up the most delicious thing he’s ever tasted. Unfazed by my instant-turn-off underpants, he now makes me feel like I’m the most desirable and sexiest thing he’s ever seen. Which is something I haven't felt in forever. Back in LA where guys seem to judge every inch of you, they always seem to find something lacking.
He picks up the pace, changing up the pressure and angle so I never know what to expect next. So the explosion builds in me as I grip my fingertips into his flesh harder. With one hand still entwined in his locks, I tweak and pinch my own nipple through the layers of fabric. In an attempt to relieve some of the tension threatening to devastate me.
This man is going to destroy my pussy, here up against the wall of a public bathroom in a slightly grubby bar. Anyone could walk in at any moment. And that’s enough to send me flying into the abyss. An eruption of thrilling release rolls up my legs and down my arms so all of me is shuddering at once.
The stranger still doesn't release me. Holding me pinned under his palm, he only slows the intensity of his lapping. He takes small licks at my quaking pussy, forcing me to come again on his lips. And when I try to shift slightly, assuming he wants his turn now, he clamps me harder. I howl as another even more high-pitched orgasm screams through my core.
When I’m completely undone, he sits back on his haunches and looks up at me from the floor. A smile on glistening lips, his eyes plowing through me, inquiring and admiring. My skirt has dropped back to my knees but my underwear remain tugged down and his hands are holding my hips immobile while he studies me in fascination.
“You’re so beautiful.” Those glistening full lips tell me.
“Beautiful how?” I pant, teasing him.
“Don’t make me give you a list, we’ll be in here all night.”
“Well that would be terrible,” I shake my head in irony. Because we both know that him, all night, is the only thing I want in the entire world right now. “Especially as there’s still someone that needs to get off.”
He grins up from under thick lashes like he’s considering what part of me he’ll take next.
“What’s going on in here?”
I leap back in shock as grocery clerk girl barges into the washroom and gives me a knowing smirk.
“To be continued..” Bolt announces, powering his thighs to stand tall and dwarf us both.
“Boo, cliffhanger,” she whines as Bolt leads me back out of the washroom.
My pussy is still throbbing with a satisfied purr from all the overwhelming climaxes he’s just dragged from me. I’m disappointed that we were interrupted and worried that he must be raging with pent-up frustration. But my heart is doing little trills all because, this time, he has my hand wrapped solidly in his paw. And it feels like he has no intention of letting me go.
This time we make it all the way to the door of the bar and Bolt leads me through, holding it open and allowing me to squeeze past him. His eyes hold mine with a triumphant gaze like he’s won every pro sports trophy known to man. His hand lands on the small of my back to guide me through and for the second time in one night I collide with a swift moving object.
“Whoa.”
In one move, Bolt lunges in front of me, pulling me out of harms way while at the same time catching the runaway beast before it dashes right in front of a passing truck.
“Oh my god, thank you.” A girl runs up the street wearing ridiculously high heels for dog walking. “You saved my Baby. You’re a super hero.”
My thought exactly.
“She likes you,” the girl gushes, joining us and smiling down proudly at Bolt.
He’s still on the ground with his arms wrapped around a cute little mutt.
“She sure does,” I say and Bolt’s eyes slide over to me with a shared grin that doesn't seem to leave his face.
An idea suddenly pops into my head. I drag my phone out of my bag and drop down beside Bolt. Before he has any chance to protest, I manage to snap a photo of the two of us smiling and happy with ‘Baby’.
8
Bolt
I worry that Bella won�
�t much care for my choice of diner. Not that there’s much option for fine dining in this town.
“Boho vintage restaurant,” I say when we arrive.
It’s only a couple of blocks past the bodega so we don’t have to worry about who’s driving.
“Perfect,” she says and I think she means it.
Or she’s making out she likes it to fit in with what I want and I really hope that isn’t the case. After fantasizing about her for months, I really want to know the real woman. I want her to be straight with me.
“Hey, don’t I know you?” the waitress comes over to take our order.
“I don’t believe so,” I say.
For once it’s true, I don’t recognize the girl and I know we never hooked up last time I was in town. But I see Bella looking between me and the waitress and not much liking how the girl’s trying to flirt as she takes our order. I make sure to blank my face like she doesn’t exist. It’s true anyway. I don’t have to pretend because there’s no other woman but Bella in this room or this universe.
“So what do you do in LA?” I ask, determined to know more about her finally.
“Oh, I don’t like to talk about it much,” she says, looking down at her coffee.
“Why not?” I press her although I get that, because god knows I’m exactly the same, anything to avoid bringing that to mind. “Working with toys every day must be fun.”
Her eyes fly up to my face and I realize too late that I screwed up.
Shit.
“How do you know that?” she snaps.
“You told me you work with toys,” I say, digging frantically for the justification. “Last time we ran into each other.”
“I never tell anyone what I do,” she insists, her frown one of mistrust.
“Well it was late at night and you were a little stressed that your car broke down. Perhaps you let it slip.”
Her face relaxes just enough that I can too. She’s still doubtful but my story seems plausible enough that she can’t fight me on it. Shit, I hate lying to her but what do I do, come right out and announce she’s dining with her stalker?
“Why are you trying to hide what you do for a living?” I ask, still curious.
“Because as soon as guys find out, they just want free samples and to use me as a test dummy. You can imagine all the lame jokes and come-on pitches I get.”
I can’t really. The only toys I’m used to are the kind that are booby trapped and I’m not gonna ruin this fantastic night by saying that. So perhaps that does make us the same in a way, each hiding our professions so as not to be subjected to a bunch of questions. Or sympathy.
“I’m bored of trying to smile through it and pretend I haven’t heard all the stupid comments before,” Bella adds.
“I get that,” I nod and receive a huge smile in return.
So I guess she’s not bored in my company. I’m not in hers either, far from it. It doesn't come easy to me, hanging out with a woman, doing the chit chat thing. I find my mind wandering real fast and itching to get back on the road. With Bella, it’s really comfortable. I could sit across the booth from her just looking at her.
“But you must like kids right?”
“I guess so,” she says, warily. “I’ve mostly been more of a dog person.”
I laugh. “And I thought the choice was between cats and dogs all this time.”
“Oh yeah it is. I just mean when it comes to being responsible for someone else, a dog seems easier to manage.”
“Not so much fun with the toys though.”
She frowns at that and I wonder what I said wrong now.
“I mean, you know, your toys are good for children, they don’t really work with dogs.”
Her face falls into a horrified stare that I can’t ignore.
“What?” I ask. “What is it?”
“You aren’t serious right?” she whispers, deadly serious now. “You can’t be, but that kind of thing isn’t something to joke about.”
“What?” I really don’t get it.
“Kids and sex toys in the same sentence.”
“What? No, Jesus, fuck.” How did I get that so fucking wrong? “You play with sex toys? I mean work. You work with sex toys?”
“Shhh,” she hisses, laughing again as she looks around to see if anyone overheard.
I can relax again. She’s cool. But Christ, that was close. My heart is thudding that maybe she believed I’m some fucking perv. There was me suddenly worried she got the wrong idea, when I asked if she liked kids. I didn’t need her thinking I was already inquiring about a future together. Instead I end up in a way worse fucking hole.
“I thought you worked with real toys- kids toys. Jeez-uss.”
“It’s okay. Honest mistake. Anyone could have made it, what with me being so obscure.”
“Man, I’m sorry. Forgive me.”
She nods and her hands relax on the table, fingertips lightly touching. It’s all I can do not to reach out and take them both in mine. I trip hold her gaze and she returns my curious glance.
“No problem, really. But….”
“What?”
She doesn't want to say, thinking about how to bring something else up. Christ what now? I really want to take her hands in mine but that would be way too forward. Wouldn’t it? Maybe not after what I just did to her body in a public washroom but somehow the hand thing seems way more intimate.
All this talking and holding hands -I’m way out of my depth here.
“What?” I repeat. “Tell me before I implode again.”
“Well… I have a little favor to ask you. In return for letting you off the hook.”
“Yeah, anything.”
I know as soon as it’s out of my mouth that I should have heard the deal first.
“Come to my sister’s wedding.”
“Ah.”
Shit.
“As my date, just a plus one, that is, not like a real date.”
She’s starting to stumble over words and her cheeks are burning hotter pink by the second. Presumably because she’s noticed my face collapse into a look of utter panic. At least that’s what it feels like must be happening.
“You know, weddings aren't really my thing.” I mumble, looking down to avoid the hurt in her face.
She’s lost all the smiling contentment from one instant to the next. I wish I could make that better, put it back to how it was a minute ago. But I can’t do weddings. I can’t do any social occasion where the social snipers are waiting to bait me.
But more than any other, it’s weddings I can’t stand. I hate the fake chit chat. I hate everyone asking me when it’s my turn, what I’m doing, where I’m living, how I’m adjusting. Endless fucking questions everywhere you turn.
And I never know when one could set off a chain of detonations inside me and send me off into a place I have no control.
“It’s not you, it’s me,” I say.
“Right,” she says, freezing over faster than the fucking ice age.
Shit.
“I’m just not a social animal,” I tell her, “All the questioning.”
I’m attempting to unroll the explanation in my head, making sure it’s honest and not some social excuse I deliver. This girl deserves to hear the truth from me but I need a minute to work up to it. Now would be a great time to take her hands in mine.
Yeah, do it.
I reach across, wiping my palms up my thighs first to make sure there’s no cold sweat lingering on them. And that one extra second of hesitation blows my chance. If I learned one thing under fire, it’s never to fucking hesitate.
“You know, I really ought to get going,” she says. She's pulled her stuff together. And is already sliding out of the booth.
“Really, wait, I-”
“My entire family are waiting for me,” she mutters.
“Right, the urgent cream delivery,” I joke.
But she’s not sharing the humor any longer. She’s suddenly really desperate to get away from m
e.
“Right. See you around,” she mumbles. “Maybe.”
Fuck, what do I do to stop her other than to pull her back down beside me and tell her to listen up? Nothing because in the time it takes me to pull out some money to throw down for the bill and chase her out onto the street, to at least walk her wherever she’s going, she’s already vanished.
I look up and down the deserted street, go to the corner to check the side street, then the next. No dice. She’s gone.
Why did I have to refuse her one simple request that would have given me ample opportunity to get to know her better?
I blew my one chance.
I’m a complete dickhead.
9
Bella
I do the drive of shame to my parent’s house and consider sleeping in the car. How can the guilt not be written all over my body? Plus I’m really late so there are going to be comments about me missing dinner and I’m really not in the mood.
I have never done that kind of thing. I mean, I’ve done some naughty things, but never in public and not with a man I don’t know. Jeez, I only got his name a few minutes before we went flying through the bathroom door, glued from mouth to hip, pressing into each other like body thieves.
“Look who’s here,” Great aunt Dottie throws open the door and shouts back over her shoulder.
She flings her arms around my waist and it’s so weird, how tiny she is all of a sudden. She barely comes up to my chest when the reverse was true only a short time ago, or so it seems. The other sisters all emerge from the living room like a swarm of waddling ducklings. Each one throws her arms around me in turn, exclaiming how I’ve grown.
Huh? Maybe only a few pounds on the hips.
“How’s school sweetheart? You’re keeping up your grades?”
“I, um, yes, it’s going great.”
No point explaining that I graduated ten years ago. The information will be forgotten within minutes plus I don't feel like getting into it about my job again tonight. How do I explain about sex toy marketing to my six great aunts ranging in age between seventy seven and ninety two?