The Christmas Exhibition (2 page)

             
“Fuck, Matt, baby, do that harder, my pussy loves fingers, give them to me!”

             
I swore I could hear
Nat King Cole
rhyme off the opening lines of
Chestnuts Roasting on an Open Fire
from next door. The fucking neighbours. I finger-fucked Jill's cunt as her face contorted with delirious passion. The fucking absurdity of it all.

             
“Oh shit, baby, I love it when I get a man's fingers inside me.”

             
A
man?

             
Her legs flopped to either side of my rib cage. One of her hands traversed her abdomen to meet mine, carefully clawing at my fingers to depose my lustful control of her cunt. “Easy, Matt,” she begged.

             
I laughed and launched the centre of my thumb into the middle of her clit, slacking my fingers inside her, and concentrating slow, deliberately circular motions on her hood.

             
“Shiii...” She was lost, throwing her head back and causing the pom-pon of her Santa hat to fall forwards over her face.

             
The nail of my thumb barely grazed the glistening moistness of her clit.

             
“Oh God,” Jill screamed, and stuffed her forefinger between her front teeth.

             
I reached my free hand to the black patent material of her right boot, finding the zip and slowly shifting it down until the footwear could be freed from her leg. I repeated the procedure on the left boot. Her legs were on show, encased only in her fishnets before me. Her skin was unusually olive, owing to a rare visit the previous evening to a local tanning studio. Jill had been determined to look her best for her Christmas dinner. Ambitioned not to be outshone by any of the other girls in the company's employ. Certain without doubt, in my opinion.

             
I leaned down and flicked the edge of my tongue onto the clit of the most beautiful girl in the world.

             
Her hands roamed the material of the sofa, seeking sanctuary from my endless pleasure. “Oh shit, baby.”

             
I snapped my tongue into my mouth. “Yes?” I asked, innocently.

             
Her hand found my hair and encouraged me back to the roof of her wet and warm opening. “Don't stop doing that, please, Matt.” Her hips gyrated suddenly and her sex was propelled upwards against my chin and my lips.

             
I twisted my tongue on her clit, lapping lasciviously against her and longing for the impending moment when I would enter her.

             
Jill's hand flailed out to the coffee table and found the remote, her fingers tapping on several keys until she successfully switched on the DVD player. She hit play and a rock ballads CD pounded 
Alannah Myles' Black Velvet
beautifully from the surround speakers, sweeping the ambience into an intensely different direction.

             
My eyebrows narrowed, gazing questioningly at her.

             
“I couldn't take anymore of Jack frigging Frost,” she panted.

             
I was locked on her labia.

             
“Fuck!”

             
I sniffed her juices. Sucked her lips. Probed her insides.

             
Jill withdrew her thighs, bringing her knees to my shoulders and pushing me away from her pussy.

             
“What is it?” I said. “What's wrong?”

             
She shook her head. “Nothing.” She sat up slowly. “I don't think so.” Jill pulled her panties back across her lips, shielding her opening. “At least I hope not.”

             
“What?”

             
“I'm not sure.”

             
The bass guitar of the music vibrated the walls of the room. The walls between us shook and shuddered. A tremor was rising inside me, fuelled by distrust and dismay. A low self-esteem. And downright shock that a specimen so stunning would consider anything other than a fling with me.

             
Jill threw her head to one side, swinging the pom-pon out of her face. Her eyes fixed on mine. Seduction and devotion swam the whites. Suspicion and disdain probed the pupils.

             
“Is there something I should know about?” I asked, tossing aside my trump card and revealing my most unworthy trait. “You were late home from dinner, Jill.” I could feel my face whitening, the blood draining from my skin. “Did something happen?” Coherence momentarily misfired in my mind. “Something that shouldn't have?”

             
Jill grabbed my belt, unbuckled it and yanked it free from my trousers. She put it in my hand. “I want you to take that, baby.” She kissed my lips, gently and with her mouth firmly shut. “I
do
have something to tell you.” She unzipped my fly. “If you are angry with me... You can beat my bare ass with the belt.”

             
My heart thundered, enveloped within my darker fantasies. Thoughts and images evoked which had been long harboured since my teenage excursions to BDSM websites on the internet.

             
Jill fondled my erection through my boxer shorts. “How many times have you asked if you can whip me?”

             
Trepidation tunnelled my mental arithmetic. “A couple of times, maybe.”

             
Jill grinned. “Matt, you've asked me dozens of times.” She pulled at my waistband. “I've checked the internet history on my laptop.” My cock sprang free. “I know what you want to do.” Her hand caught my erection and squeezed. “What you want to do to
me
.” She rolled her palm on my foreskin, freeing the head. “You want to punish me.” She stretched the skin, reddening my birthright's restraint. “You want to
beat
me.”

             
Naivety and shyness coupled in my mouth. “Would you... Would you suck me off, please, Jill?”

             
Jill's hand moved down the shaft of my cock to my pubic hair.

             
“Oh yeah,” I cried.

             
She moved her palm back to the tip, and down again, never releasing nor relinquishing her tight grip.

             
“Fuck, sweetheart, that's it.”

             
Jill smiled as my eyes fell shut.

             
The sultry sound of the song permeated my ears, drowning the dizziness of my darkness in a world of possibilities and perversion.

             
Jill's breath on my penis alerted my attention to my surroundings once more, and my eyelids shot open.

             
“What is it you have to tell me?” I asked, longing for her pace to quicken.

             
Jill smiled around my member. Her eyes flashed upwards. Her mouth snaked downwards, swallowing my cock to the base.

             
What could it be? She was playful. Sheepish, yes. Tipsy too. But how could anything be seriously wrong if she was contemplating employing such sexuality in her tactics? I placed my belt on the top of the sofa, against the wall, then looked down.

             
Jill plied her lips reluctantly from my cock, planting loving kisses on the tip. “You taste...” She sniffed. “... And smell wonderful, Matt.” She looked up, appeared lost temporarily in thought and exhaled, smiling. “You look so young... So naïve.”

             
I hated her put downs of the age-gap between us. A gap of two years which I saw as minimal. I wished for the resolve, the resilience and the strength to reach for the belt, to throw her over my knees and to spank her senseless until I drew tears from her beautiful eyes and apologies from her disrespectful lips. “I'm not a kid, Jill.”

             
Her smile widened. “We'll see, Matt.”

             
I suppressed anger in my chest. Shoved it down. Forced it to implode. Until it exploded in my loins, and I shoved my cock against her lips.

             
Jill moulded her mouth around my member, submissively accepting her place as my cocksucker.

             
I would show her.

             
“My inexperienced little lover,” she taunted.

             
I rammed my cock down her throat, as anger raged and boiled in my blood. Determination surged through my veins and capitalised on my contempt for her mocking. What I lacked in experience, I would surely compensate for in my imagination.

             
Jill's throat gagged.

             
My pubes ascended the opening of her nostrils.

             
Her eyes bloated.

             
I shoved myself further inside her orifice.

             
Her hands patted at my stomach.

             
I swept them away.

             
Her fingernails caught my arms, and sliced tiny marks below my elbows.

             
I released her and silenced my laughter at the demise of her control.

             
Jill was out of breath, coughing and wiping her running mascara from her cheeks. “Shit,” she said. “Fuck.” Her eyes met mine. “That was so fucking hot, baby. Where the hell did that come from?”

             
I shrugged my shoulders. “You pissed me off.”

             
She watched me. Silent. Wondering. Her chest rising and falling with exaggerated need for breath.

             
“I don't like being mocked.”

             
Jill pursed her lips. “Or... Maybe you do.”

             
The song faded out.

             
“To get that reaction... To stoke your fires... To
truly
turn you on.”

             
I wanted a cigarette.

4

I stubbed out my cigarette in the ashtray and looked at Jill. She had removed her fishnets, passing a throwaway comment that the tights were perhaps fit only for the rubbish bin. Her eyes were glazed, compromised by the alcohol swimming her blood.

             
“Baby,” she began, slipping her hands to my waist and tugging at my trousers.

             
I lifted my ass to allow her to strip me from the waist down.

             
“Your cock is gorgeous, Matt.” Jill stared at my erection for several seconds. “Will you let me sit on it?”

             
I kicked off my trousers and boxers shorts. “Oh yes, babe.” I smiled.

             
Her eyes were still mesmerized, fixed on my member. Her eyelashes fluttered. Her lips uncurled. Her smile faded.

             
“What is it? What's wrong?”

             
Her chest heaved under her black dress. “I don't want you to be mad.” Jill reached out and grabbed my cock, pulling me into a sensual wank.

             
“Mad?”

             
She nodded.

             
“How could I be mad, Jill? You're the most beautiful girl in the world and you want to sit on my cock. There's nothing that could possibly ruin that.”

             
She increased her pace.

             
“Oh fuck, sweetheart, that's it.”

             
Jill bit her lower lip. “There is something, Matt. Something I
have
to tell you. I don't want to make you mad. Can you promise me you won't get mad?”

             
I humped her hand, hesitating only in speech.

             
Her red lips, coated in lipstick, curved into an invigorating, seductive smile which sought to crush my resolve. “Please promise me, Matt. I don't want secrets between us.”

             
“Okay,” I said, shifting myself forward into her touch.

             
Jill thumbed the straps of her dress, lowering it off her shoulders and revealing such fine, exquisite flesh. Her body was petite and svelte. Her blonde hair long and flowing out from under her hat. “Do you like?”

             
I nodded, losing my concentration on the beginning of her breasts, slowly revealed under the top of her dress.

             
Jill tugged tighter on my cock, squeezing the first evidence of precum over her thumb. “Mmmmmm,” she moaned, then licked her lips.