Surprise (22 page)

Janey sees the look on his face, and her gut tightens. She opens her mouth to say something, but then he slides into her so effortlessly, so confidently, that all she can do is moan. Then he is inside her, filling her with his real cock, with the promise of real flesh and blood, and he is wrapping her head in her sister's pink sheets, redolent with the smell of her wetness and his splattered come and then her world is pink, just pink, and he is filling her up with his long cock and loosening the knots down the length of her body with his thick fingers and there is only pink light and the scent of sex and the heat of her own breath. She is gasping as he fucks her, gulping in air by the lungful, and then she is suffocating with the sheets wrapped around her head, but his cock is so perfect inside of her, and her body is aflame with his touch. She can't breathe at all, she is dying and lights are fizzing and skittering in front of her eyes and the world is more grey than pink, and then he comes, hot blasts of liquid drowning her pussy, and she is screaming, letting loose as she comes, lost in waves of rippling pleasure, but her lungs are bursting, and there is no air left to make a sound, and there is no sound other than the guy hissing and grunting as he spills inside of her.

Just before she passes out he unwraps the sheets from her head, and the sunlight stings her eyes. She coughs and the contractions squeeze the last few drops of heat from his cock. His fingers are in her hair, and there is only the cool air rushing into her lungs and his cock shrinking inside her.

“Janey, right?” the guy says, but Janey can't say anything.

And in a bathroom across campus Dana has her hand stuffed down the front of her jeans, teasing the last flutters from her pussy with the guy's ghost touch melting away like frost in new sunlight. And she is happy, happier than she has ever known.

 

 

 

 

My hand, at the lip of your trousers, fumbles with too-tight buttons, the coin-heavy insides of pockets. A tug of denim, a groan as my hands slip further inside, plying at the fabric and shivering against a marching knit of thread. The trousers bunch and stretch, creaking beneath my tentatively exploring fingers. Another groan, and I bite my lip, which warms as blood blooms to hover just beneath the skin. I close my eyes in frustration, and fling your trousers to the ground.

Will you ever learn to empty your pockets before putting your jeans in the wash?

 

 

 

 

flash fiction

 

 

 

 

I'd walked by the tattoo parlor many times on my way home from work, but never gone in. The pictures in the window cracked me up: Yosemite Sam, football insignias, skulls with snakes coming out of their mouths. Who would want those ridiculous things emblazoned on their bodies forever?

But today I felt a little bit daring and went in. The door jangled as I pushed it open. I was alone in the shop except for a guy about my age behind the counter reading a book. He looked up and marked his place.

“See anything you like?” he asked. He had dark hair and expressive eyes. In the movie he'd be played by Clive Owen. Except that Clive Owen would never deign to be in a movie as smutty as this.

“I'm just looking,” I said. “Maybe something small. I'm not sure I want to make, you know, a big commitment.”

“I understand,” he said, and smiled in a way I can only describe as mischievous.” No big commitment.
Where
are you thinking?”

“Well, uh...”

“Bikini area?”

“Yeah.” Suddenly this seemed like the obvious choice. I felt my face getting hot.

“What I recommend,” he said, stepping out from behind the counter, “is a temporary version first—an experiment.” He was tall with broad shoulders. “So you can live with it for a few days and see if you like it in the place you've chosen.” His eyes went to my bikini area for just a moment, and then back to my face.

“Sounds perfect,” I said. He got a three-ring binder down from a shelf and we looked through it together. He smelled great, a manly smell, no cologne or anything, just slightly sweaty.

I found a picture of a small heart with an arrow through it. “I like that one,” I said.

He found the temporary version in a drawer. “Step back here,” he said, leading me through a doorway to a separate room in the back of the shop. The door to the room had glass only on the upper half, for propriety, presumably.

“You'll need to undo your jeans,” he said.

I unzipped and pushed them down over my hips, then pulled the front of my thong an inch to one side. “Right here would be good,” I said, touching a spot about two inches away from the danger zone.

He sat down on a chair in front of me so his face was level with my unzipped self. “I need to get a little bit closer,” he said. “Do you mind?”

“You can get as close as you need to,” I said, my voice breaking a little. “I'm not shy.”

He paused, stood up, went to the half-glass door, and locked it with a satisfying click.

“This version will last about three days,” he said, showing me a square of paper with my heart and arrow on it. He wiped the temporary tattoo with a wet cloth and then pressed it firmly against my skin with his thumb, holding my opposite hip confidently with his other hand.

He held his hand there a few moments and then peeled the paper away and blew oh so gently on the little heart, to dry it I guess. I wasn't really thinking too scientifically at that point, but it was clear he knew what he was doing.

He sat back again.

I looked down at him. “Am I…done?” I asked.

“I don't know, are you?” he asked, and our eyes locked.

He was still sitting in the chair, holding my hips. He leaned forward and flicked his tongue against the bare skin I was still making available. I had on chunky three-inch heels, not usually a problem for me but now I felt like I might lose my balance. I felt a rush of blood to my nether regions and began to experience a deep, low-slung ache of desire, as if I was opening up inside like one of those time-lapse flower blossoms in a nature program on TV. I felt myself getting wet.

“If we do this properly, you're going to have to take those off,” he said, eyeing my jeans.

“Okay.” Believe me when I say I've never taken anything off faster. Shoes, socks, jeans, and oops, my now-damp thong all came off at the same time. I left my tight t-shirt on and leaned over to place my clothing on a low table, aware of the view I was offering.

“That's a nice look for you,” he said, with a low laugh. “Now back to your position.”

I scrambled over and stood before him again. He sat on the edge of the chair and took a long look at me. Then he went in, closing his mouth on my girl parts, his tongue soft, licking closer and closer and then lapping a long, hard stroke against my opening.

I moaned and he went back to his quiet, soft licking, barely brushing anything important. From where I was standing I could see out the half-glass door through the tattoo shop and beyond to the street, where people were walking by as if nothing exciting was happening. I felt lightheaded and my legs began to tremble, but he steadied me with both hands on my hips, his movements getting slower, more deliberate.

“There's no hurry,” he said, and spent a few more luscious, languorous moments exploring my every secret fold and curve.

“You're delicious,” he murmured into me.

Then he clasped me right to his face, using his thumbs to spread my legs open wide. His tongue went to all the right places and I started breathing faster and faster. Soon everywhere felt like the right place. He seemed to know I was close and pressed his mouth hard against my clit. I held his head with both hands and came, crying out “Yes!” a surprise to both of us.

The bell out front jangled. He had customers. He looked up at me and licked his chops like a wild animal in the forest who had just had a feast. I could see a hard lump in his jeans, but alas, could do nothing about it that day.

He reached over and picked up my jeans and thong and handed them to me, all gentlemanly. Then he went back to the shop to help whoever had come in.

I got dressed, my hands shaking. I put on my shoes and took a few deep breaths, then stepped out of the back room. Two teenage boys were perusing one of the three-ring binders.

“So that's just the temporary,” he called out to me. “Come back again if you decide you like it in that spot and we can make it permanent, or just try something different.”

I paused at the doorway. “I've heard,” I said, “that sometimes people get their first tattoo and then get, like, addicted, and feel compelled to get more and more until their whole bodies are covered.”

He laughed. “If I'm lucky,” he said. “Remember, if you want a real one it will take a lot longer to do, and you'll need a few days until you're back to normal.”

“I'll think about it,” I said.

I left the shop with a big smile on my face, considering my options. I figured when I got home I'd undo my jeans and take a look in the mirror, check myself out to see if I wanted to go back and make the little heart and arrow permanent.

Or maybe I'd try another temporary, maybe in the small of my back next time.

 

 

 

 

“Okay, sounds great. I'll meet you at the big souvenir shop on the corner. Yes, the one with the big shark. You can follow me to the house just a few miles from there. Yes, I can't wait to see you, either! Bye, sweetie. See you soon.” I am smiling as I hang up the phone. We've been looking for opportunities to get together and I am pleasantly surprised that you are coming to see me for an overnight stay, which means we will have time for
extra
fun. I'm so excited that you wanted to spend some time with me! I have arranged the perfect place for us, an awesome house on the beach.

Autumn is in the air, the beach is mostly empty. We arrive at the house in the late afternoon. The sun will be going down soon, and it is cool outside, and cloudy. I've made sure the house is nice and warm for our arrival, and you look at me with a knowing glance.

“Wow, nice,” you say.

“Yeah, I know the owners. They live out of state,” I say.

As you explore the house, walking down the hallway to the master bedroom, I grab you around your waist, turn you around and begin kissing you. You surprise me by kissing me back very aggressively, and begin rubbing me to get me excited. But today I plan to control your pleasure first, to give you a taste of the domination you admit excites you so much, so I push you up against the wall, and after kissing you for a few minutes passionately, I stop, look into your eyes and say, “I have a surprise for you.”

“What is it?” you ask.

“Well, I've got to go and get it out of the car, but I'm not going to show you until your clothes are off,” I say with a smile. “I want you to go into that bedroom right now, take your clothes off, and lie on the bed naked. I'll be there in a few minutes,” and I turn to head toward the door. I know you are watching me, so I say loudly “I said to get NAKED!” You laugh and I hear you walking toward the bedroom. I know how much you love surprises and anticipation of the unknown is a turn-on to you.

As I walk back in and down the hall toward the bedroom, I hear you giggle, struggling to get out of your jeans, so I stop in the hallway for just a minute before walking to the doorway. “You procrastinated. Do you think I won't punish you for that?” You smile, knowing that I wouldn't really hurt you, but I can tell you're a little nervous. I smile back and can't help but admire your body as you are lying on the bed, leaning back against the pillows and a little on one elbow. As much as I want to just make love to you immediately, I am determined to follow through with my plan.

“What's in the bag?” you ask, giving me one of those looks. “It looks awfully big, whatever it is.”

“Well, it's more than just one thing,” I say as I sit next to you on the bed. “You know I still owe you from the time I let you tie me up.”

“
Let
me tie you up,” you laugh. “You loved every minute of it!”

“Yes, I did,” I say, “but you were quite cruel with me a few times then, and so it's payback time. It's my turn to dominate you. Everything you experience now is up to me. I think you will like what I do to you tonight though.” You look a little unsure, and I am enjoying this. I've always admired that you are such a strong-willed woman, and I love that this makes you feel so vulnerable and so excited.

As I pull out the soft velcro cuffs, you smile. I see you and smile back. “These should be comfortable enough,” I say as I put the first one on your wrist. Then I look into your eyes and kiss you as I pull the restraint up to the bed post and fasten it. You begin to test it. It is quite secure, and for the first time I think you realize that I really am going through with this. I really am in control and you are about to be helpless. You move your free hand to the hand that is restrained, but I have already taken the other cuff out of the bag and I grab your free wrist. “No, fair is fair. I'm going to have my way with you tonight. I am going to do exactly as I please,” I say, as I pull your free hand to the other bed post, tying it off with just a little slack, but not enough for you to move your arm more than a few inches. You look at me with a worried expression, so I lean down close to your face and say, “Sweetie, I hope you know I would never hurt you…or at least I won't leave marks.” I laugh and kiss you again.

I stand now, enjoying the sight of you tied to the bed, and I reach in the bag and take out similar restraints for your ankles.

“Okay,” you say, “you know if you make this difficult for me I am going to pay you back so bad.” I laugh again.