I’d like to thank LadyVer for editing without (allegedly) wincing. I like stories, which means I believe in context and build-up.
“Tell me you did it on purpose.” I said, after a sigh.
“W-what are you talking about?” I was sure he was picturing me rubbing my temples, which wouldn’t have been far from the truth.
“The company logo, Hernán?”
Silence. He saw that the colors were way off. Even though we were co-workers and he was fifteen years my senior, my voice made him more nervous than our boss being angry—a recurrent theme with me. Turning away from my desk, I looked over the typical dull, gray cubicle workplace design and swept my gaze around the room. Conversations dwindled where my eyes landed, and then resumed after a few seconds.
Both Miranda and Rebecca met my glances. When my eyes met theirs, they reacted like most. Miranda nervously focused on her computer monitor; Rebecca smirked and turned away.
From teachers to friends, I have been frequently told that my way of doing things, especially staring, causes strong reactions in others. A few of those reactions, I have easily picked up on. With Miranda, hell, her interest in me was as subtle as a Rio de Janeiro carnival-goer in the middle of a funeral procession. Rebecca, amused by her friend’s “stealthy” interest in me, seemed weary. I guessed they knew they would be playing with fire if they came near me—they just might have been right.
“Why, fuck me—” Hernán finally added. He was the nearest thing I had to a friend in that company.
“You know I don’t swing that way,” was my attempt to put him at ease as he didn’t work well under stress. He emitted a sound that might’ve been a squeak or a bad attempt at giggling.
“—well, you saved my ass. I’ll work on it.”
“It’s my job, and I owe you.”
“Hey, I voted for you because I like your style. You say things as they are.” Hernán dismissed the support that caused me to land the job. “I’ll mail you the next version in a few. TIFF?”
“You can even send me a BMP if that works for you, as long as we turn it in in under four hours.” We actually had two, but I didn’t want to stress him out. I knew he’d get to it as soon as the line went dead.
“You got it, Dante.”
After pulling up the file again from my laptop, I sensed Miranda examining me again.
I was part of the marketing department within a relatively new, but promising, company, and that week was the last one before being transferred to another office. I’d be working directly with Hernán Simmons-Rivera, the guy with great ideas, if sometimes a little careless with details. He came up with ideas. I polished them. I’d be able to tell if your shirt wasn’t ironed correctly from a quick glance. A keen observer of colors, shapes, and proportions. That, and a marketing degree made me ideal for the position.
Focusing on the file, I overheard a comment about a cake topper. I was well aware of being called “cake topper” because my hair was always in its place, my suits were impeccable, my ties matched my suits, and my expression appeared frozen. I sought the possible source of the comment: Ronnie and Marcus, two grown men gossiping like high schoolers. Not my problem if they failed “basic shapes and colors” in kindergarten. Becoming braver now that they know I’m leaving.
Having mailed the draft to the higher-ups in hopes they gave it the thumbs up, which I knew wasn’t going to happen on the first try, I went home.
Sweat clung to my struggling body as I did my not-favorite: pull-ups. The phone buzzed. Just a few more…the burn is almost there.
New email. Unknown sender.
“Its a shame that your leaving. But I can come clean. I have a crush on you, even if its wrong. Your too tempting, but everyone tells me I should stay away. When you walk by, I just want you to eat me up with the look. I’m sending this to get it out of my system, that you dont know who I am will keep me safe from you. Thats not what I want, but its the way it should be.”
Bianca might’ve been right. She once told me, “Dante, I swear you take a sex shower. You know what I’m saying? There’s like this tension around you. Whenever you look at me, you’re hungry, but you manage not to make it sick. It’s simply saying ‘if I get my hands on you, I’ll fuck you within an inch of your life.’ Makes me tingle where it shouldn’t.”
I reread the email. It was only appropriate to snort. That anonymity was self-delusion of the highest quality. Miranda’s frustration was obvious. She hadn’t had sex for almost a year; her husband couldn’t be bothered. I stayed away from gossip, which meant it was common knowledge. Too bad I don’t sleep with women in a relationship, unless their husband or boyfriend happens to be an asshole. Then, you might qualify. You, woman, overestimate— A groan of frustration sliced the rest of the thought away.
I crept to the window that faced her apartment. Keys jingling and a juice bottle lying on the floor, Danielle bemoaned her clumsiness. She was too hot. Sensuous, long, and thick hair. Curvy body worthy of a pin-up poster. Fuck, if I could have a night with her…
I didn’t want her learning about my (undeserved?) asshole reputation. I didn’t know either why I wanted her more than any other woman. She turned around. Great, she sees me looking from my window. Way to be creepy, Dante. Haven’t had sex for almost a month. Probably stared at her like a wolf in heat. Just great.
She smiled sheepishly before swiveling her eyes away, picking up her juice, and disappearing inside. Time to repair the creepy-look impression.
I bathed and got some decent clothes on. The plan was simple: get artichoke dip. In some fleeting conversation I had mentioned it before, and she had been interested.
However, walking out of the store, I was stopped by a reluctant and cheerful, “H-hey…”
Whatsherface, the blond jogger that I normally saw around the neighborhood. Busy staring at my “expensive” outlet shoes, she didn’t even look at me. Lauren? Lorrie? L… “Lorelai,” I offered. My voice sounded deeper than I intended. She finally lifted her eyes as if they were laden by an almost overpowering weight. She hurriedly smiled with uncertainty.
She looked damn good, her body fit, and, while not showing too much, the outfit worn made it clear she took good care of herself.
Surreptitiously, the sun sank in the horizon, bathing the landscape in that golden light that makes everything glow. It struck her face. If I had been falling for this girl, I would’ve been head over heels at that moment. Her ivy-colored eyes gave the illusion of being lighter and warmer. Her lips hinted at being even more inviting than the norm. Her breasts were a nice, natural C that required powerful elastics on her top so they didn’t bounce painfully.
“I…uh…I was wondering if you…could help me again.” Fuck you silly again, you mean. Why lie?
“Fuck you silly again, you mean.” I wasn’t at work, so my language wasn’t restricted.
She actually gasped and turned a nice shade of red that favored her appearance.
“If that’s a ‘yes’, follow me to my apartment.” I didn’t even wait. I turned and walked back. As expected, her footsteps, even if timidly, followed me. Why so many adult women react well to the high school treatment has always been beyond me. I didn’t care about them, and did nothing to lead them on. I was in no way tender, but they came to me anyway. Being described as “cute” helped, but looks aren’t everything. Hell, I had hated the jocks that treated girls like crap to “get some”, and here I was doing almost the same because I really didn’t care, not to grab their attention.
Somehow it ended with them wanting me. Something about an “aura of mystery” surrounding me, I believe. While that might not have been my original intention, offer me sex with an attractive girl? Where do I sign?
“You know where the shower is,” I told Lorelai, after unlocking the door and leaving the dip in the fridge. A few seconds later the water was running.
The apartment seldom impressed anybody for better or for worse. I worked in marketing, but that isn’t always big money. I just knew how to spend and where to spend. I walked into the bathroom and got rid of my clothes.
Obediently, Lorelai was already soaping her body by the time I was inside. I stepped in right behind her and breathed on her shoulders. She shivered in a nice way. I extended my right hand to touch where my breath had caressed her skin, and I heard a stifled moan. OK, I might have been good, but not THAT good to get reactions without even touching. I paid close attention.
I touched Lorelai and she shivered again, not daring to peek at me yet. Another moan. Not from Lorelai…Danielle? The thought of my brunette neighbor got me harder than I was. That lucky bastard is visiting her again. Not as often as I would visit her if I were him, however. I slowly ran my fingers down Lorelai’s back until they reached her hips. I grabbed her and forcefully turned her around, making her look at me. Let’s get you to moan and show Danielle how it’s done.
Whereas I didn’t know how or why my stare worked, it didn’t mean I didn’t use it. I stared hard and deep into her eyes for a few seconds. She even attempted to cover up her breasts, but I prevented her from doing so by grabbing her wrists and pinning them against the wall—the shower’s spray trying to find a way between us. Her knees bent slightly and she swallowed with difficulty, turning away. I breathed in. The scent was there.
Without moving my eyes away from hers, I let her know that I noticed. “You’re already wet.” One…two… The pause was long enough to make her nervous, and I was rewarded with what I wanted. She tried to speak.
“Are yo—hmph.” I pressed my lips against hers and started kissing her furiously. She sighed into my mouth and rubbed her body against mine. Her pussy barely, but successfully, managed to make fleeting contact with my member. I growled, nibbling on her lip, then kissed and bit my way down to her neck. Not yet. I bit a tad harder on her neck. She whimpered.
My hands, of course, were quite busy. Her body was perfect. I mean, she might have had a bit of extra fat somewhere on her hips, but that is perfect for me—some flaw that makes me feel I’m going to fuck an actual woman, not a photo shopped, unnaturally perfect doll from a Playboy cover. Her breasts were soft and I began with some applied pressure. As soon as she became more turned on, I’d be rougher, but in the meantime I played lightly with her nipples.
“Ah.” She pressed harder into me and wriggled her hips. That chick always wanted to take me bareback, never bothering to ask for condoms, which made condoms a necessity. The bathroom window had a weird arch shape to it. Above the arch, I could hide small things. Like rubbers. I let one of her hands free and grabbed the small object in my hand. Since she was too eager, it was only obligatory for me to make her ache for it. “On your knees,” and it’s not an option, my tone let her know.
She complied almost too quickly. Her knees made a soft thud against the shower floor. I heard Danielle moaning again. Lorelai didn’t even need me to tell her; she started sucking my dick as if her life depended on it. The girl had a mean technique. It became my turn to moan. “Ah…”
I pumped my hips, one hand guarding the unopened condom, the other one guiding her head. She noisily and messily worked on my cock with her pouty lips, her hand jacking me off, caressing all my length. Let’s get this out of the way. I am not porn star sized. Women never gasp with shock, nor laugh at it. I’m not giving numbers away.
After our previous encounters, Lorelai had already figured out my sensitive spots. My hips, without my permission, began to move faster against her mouth, creating obscene slurping sounds. I grunted, feeling the orgasm rearing its head, still far away, but now in sight. Her tongue brushed the underside of my cock unabashedly and I felt a nice tingle. I heard Danielle do that sexy sound of hers a bit louder and I imagined her sucking me off. Suddenly, the orgasm didn’t feel that far away. “Enough. Stand up.”
She looked at me excitedly, but I wasn’t going to fuck her just yet. I made sure her back was against the wall and I knelt, placing one of her legs on my shoulder. I dove in. My free hand teased her nether lips for a few seconds, but my tongue wasn’t that patient and I soon used it, almost like a whip against her defenseless pussy. “Oh, GOD!”
As soon as she said that, I made a mental note of what I had done, and placed the soon-to-be-used condom on the floor and began playing with myself, lightly. Then, without warning, I unleashed that maneuver that had made her yelp, over and over again, with higher intensity. Lorelai veritably wailed. Her hands sprang out to grasp something to prevent her from falling. As if on cue, my neighbor moaned again and I almost shot my load. I immediately let go of my cock, working on denying my orgasm, making sure it’d be intense when I finally let go.
She placed one hand on my back and caressed it without any defined pattern, as if searching for something, her hips bucking against my tongue. I felt her fingers caressing the ridges of my back muscles, while not huge, defined enough to make them pleasant to look at. I kept attacking her pussy with fury. My finger slipped entirely into her and received a hug from her inner muscles. I stroked my dick again, slowly.
I finger-fucked her, slowly but firmly, making sure my tongue didn’t stop, my other hand keeping me near the edge. Lorelai moaned so loud it might’ve qualified as a scream. Her pussy got tighter and I stopped fingering her, moving my mouth away from her. She stared down at me, bewildered. I looked up at her, daring her to question my motives. She didn’t. As soon as she seemed to come down from her high, I went back to work resuming my attentions on her clit with my tongue, my finger trying to find the exact spot that would make her explode. Her breathing suddenly revved up.
A surrounding, sinful groan from Danielle and Lorelai resonated simultaneously in the room and my orgasm again threatened me. I stopped touching myself and devoted my attention to making her lose control. Down my tongue went. Then up, not covering a small area, but randomly focusing on the places that made her respond. She quivered and I stopped again.
“Why…what…what are you doing?” Panting, Lorelai could barely talk.
I dislodged her leg from above my shoulder, stood up slowly but surely, stopped the running water, and handed her a towel. “Get on the bed.” She could easily tell that I was going to fuck her, hard. I think she almost came just from the anticipation. I decided that this time I wouldn’t spend a whole night giving her orgasms. It’d be only one, but certainly worth it.
She hurriedly wrapped her long, blond hair with another small towel found hanging nearby, dried her body quickly, and walked towards the bedroom. I followed, intently listening for any moans from Danielle. Lorelai almost jumped on the bed, her breasts moving slightly with every one of her breaths once she was sitting up. She appreciatively evaluated my body. I stood in front of her and was about to push her on her back when she started kissing my torso, spreading butterfly kisses on the ab muscles that were visible.
She started sucking my dick again. As if it was going to get soft. I let her do that for a few seconds, but gently pushed her head back after that. She wouldn’t appreciate it if I were rough at that moment. I was not going to treat her bad all the time. I was focused on her pleasure, even if it looked as if I were using her. Instead of addressing her roughly, I was blunt, but not harsh. “Lie back. I need to fuck you right now.”
Her lip trembled, but she managed to reply. “Can I be on top?” Ok, I wasn’t going to be that gentle. I couldn’t help always being in charge. And she was asking too nicely. Before I could stop myself, I raised an eyebrow, giving her a ‘no, we’re doing this my way’ look. She actually blushed. I rolled the condom on. With Lorelai on her back, my naked form hovered on top of hers like an ominous cloud.
“Get it in,” I told her, giving her some control of what we were doing. She grasped my cock and placed it at her entrance. There was no point in denying that she was soaked and that I needed this. I sank halfway in. She is so hot inside… Right away I established a rhythm, feeding her my cock a little bit more with every thrust. She forgot how to breathe—her mouth open, her body tense—as I started fucking her harder by the second.
I was afraid I was hurting her, but she suddenly moved and came alive, letting out a series of ragged breaths. I couldn’t feel that much due to the condom. I had gotten one of the thicker ones, which was fine. Maybe I wouldn’t have lasted otherwise. I pulled out and the expression on Lorelai’s face was almost of despair. I didn’t waste time. I placed both her ankles guarding my ears, and I began fucking her down against the mattress, knowing that it would allow deeper penetration. Danielle could be heard cooing. Had she left her window open? I normally couldn’t listen to her having sex (yes, I often tried; she was my typical jack-off inspiration).
Lorelai moved her back as if I had been torturing her, changing positions rapidly, her face almost depicting pain. But the moans and whimpers stated the truth. She got tighter, but not quite there yet. Since listening to my neighbor had me ready to blow, I did the only thing that could stop me from cumming. I played a song, mentally. Coffee Rumba (Moliendo Café, for those who speak Spanish) provided enough distraction.
My mind, being elsewhere, wouldn’t last forever. I moved in an exaggerated motion, using all of my length to dig out the orgasm I needed to give her. She mumbled something as I changed the strategy against her senses, vaguely feeling every inch of my cock disappear in her hungry and accepting body. “Look at it. Look at my dick fucking you, Lorelai.”
She stared, entranced, watching my meat glistening with her arousal go in and out, over and over again. Good girl.
Lorelai was the kind of woman that would lose her pristine demeanor if teased or aroused enough, and I planned to make that happen. With one arm, I secured both legs, the other hand playing with her nipples again, only harder. I pinched them until I found her in the dubious point between pleasure and pain. The first time I had had sex with her, she had told me she was tired of men treating her like a princess. Truth be told, even like that—naked, under me—she did manage to have a regal air to her; her slightly tanned skin and aristocratic features matched nicely. So, lucky me, I get to play with her as rough as she can manage.
I lowered my hand and tried to fit it between our bodies. Slightly awkward since I was fucking her hard, my hips slamming against hers. I finally managed to get two fingers near her clit, and I did my best to nudge it, massage it, and press hard against it. That regal air was almost broken. Her reluctance when speaking vanished, at least temporarily. “Oh, God! Oh, OH! Give me that cock!”
The princess had ordered. I could only comply. I released her legs and snaked that hand towards a strategic spot that would give me leverage. I used my weight and position to drive myself into her as if I wanted to destroy her. I played with her clit almost as if I wanted to make it catch fire with the friction, but she was too wet to let that happen. Last time I had done something like that…
“No…” Lorelai’s voice was way higher than before.
“No, wait.” I could see she was not serious, so I didn’t give her a break, “Oh, no, no, nonono…God…noooo…” she elongated that word and raised the pitch until I thought she’d freak out every dog in the block. Her pussy clamped down on me; her body became steel, locked in position. She desperately stared at something I couldn’t see. I let myself go, summoning that orgasm I had been barely holding back.
My ass contracted as I slammed myself against her for the last time. She had her right calf next to my mouth and I bit down on it, feeling all the tension rise in me right before I shot. Suddenly, I felt a very warm liquid jetting against my crotch, coming from Lorelai. I grunted when the electric feeling flowing from my core cranked up—felt the world become dim for a second as my semen filled the condom. Two jets, three… Yes. Ah, yes.
Danielle was very quiet. I assumed she was not a screamer like Lorelai. That, or she never cums. My blond companion had been turned into a royal disaster. I moved to the side, allowing us to breathe and calm down.
“I-I made a mess again. I’m so sorry! I—”
“It’s what I wanted. Don’t worry.” There was a stretched silence again as our pulses returned to normal. She sat up, dazed, but scavenging for her clothes. Although I had planned to give her only one orgasm, I supposed there was no harm in being a gentleman and offering her more. “Are you ready for round two?”
“You…you can’t be serious!”
“If you’re near this bed within the next ten minutes, see how serious I am.”
You would’ve thought I had used a cattle prod on her. She bolted out of the bed and got her clothing on in record time. She looked at me with confusion, something between awe and shame, before whispering her goodbye, “Dante, I-I can’t do this anymore.”
“Right. So you said the last…three times? Or is it four?” Eyebrow arched for maximum effect of disbelief.
“No, this time it’s different. I really, really can’t.”
Why bother answering to that? Just nod and let her disappear. The door closing announced my being alone again a few seconds later.
I could’ve had a reputation as a playboy. But don’t brag. I don’t tell you I’m great in bed. You tell me after I’m done with you. Nor did I kiss and tell; the only people that got to know about my conquests were my neighbors. If the girl in turn happened to be a screamer like Lorelai.
That had been fortunate. I had been planning on changing the sheets. I needed no further motivation.
“So, what do you think?” Good gods, man. I’m reviewing a flyer, not deciding if you’re guilty of murder, relax. “Is there something wrong?”
“Hernán, breathe man, breathe. It’s actually very good. I’m just thinking. The changes we need aren’t your responsibility.”
“Are you sure?”
“Section 1: I don’t like the phrase I coined. I’m sure I can shorten it to five words. Make it easier to remember, catchier. And get rid of the word “satisfaction,” at least once, so it’s not repeated needlessly in the second paragraph of section 3.”
“Yeah, Jim is the boss and he wrote that, but we have to make it right. I’ll let him know. Anyway, you got everything right. If anything’s up, I’ll be there tomorrow to check it with you.” Hernán finally let out a sigh of relief. Good grief, if that’s my reputation and we haven’t met in person, the guy is going to wet his pants in fear when we work in the same room. We exchanged polite goodbyes before hanging up.
I packed my few belongings in a small box. Somebody had their eyes fixed on me; the feeling was unmistakable. Miranda. We locked eyes and right before she couldn’t hold my gaze any longer, I arched an eyebrow, slightly. This was the most expressive I’d been within the office in more than eight months. Her face became colorless. She buried her head in papers.
Of course I know who the “anonymous” email came from. There was Ronnie to my left, silently waiting. If he wanted me to start the conversation, he was mistaken. He considered going away, but he had a mission in mind. “Is it true, then? Are you leaving us for greener pastures?”
Greener pastures. Really. I let a second miserably crawl by before uttering a simple, “Yes.”
His tone became hushed, attempting to inspire trust. “Tell me, why haven’t you banged Miranda? Waiting until you’re outta here so it doesn’t get awkward?”
Ronnie stared at me as if I had answered in riddles. “Yeah?” His hand ran around in circles, urging me to finish my explanation.
“I don’t do that.”
“Danteee,” he stretched my name in a patronizing way, “you are into ladies, right?”
“Are we quite done?” As if I need to prove my heterosexuality to you.
“Jeez, I was just saying, in case you were the only one not into the ‘secret’ of her passions.” Still confusing cheesy with cool, huh.
“I’m quite aware of her being married.” I deliberately made a small pause, blinked, and added with a final tone, “Regardless of her possible intentions, I’m not pursuing her.”
Ronnie’s biggest asset was his face. He appeared to have been sculpted by some perfectionist renaissance artist. Unfortunately, that didn’t extend to his brain. He had more fingers in a single hand than conversation topics. I safely assumed that this was his most contrived way of finally going to one of those topics. Office gossip. Not interested in the conversation, I patiently looked at him. He smirked, and strode for his chaotic desk, machinating his seduction or ripping me to shreds behind my back. Not my problem in either case.
My phone buzzed again.
Normally, people didn’t use the door bell, so the ding dong took a few moments to register, especially because I was in the middle of playing Robot Carnival’s “Heart and Hand” on my harp. I eventually did answer the door.
“Hey, neighbor!” Danielle’s tone was innocent enough, but damn it, it still triggered a pleasant stirring right where it counts.
“Hello.” If people at work could see the differences between my work persona and me, they’d be even more confused, heh. Not cheery by any means, but certainly more than civil. I couldn’t turn off the staring thing, because Danielle had shrunk slightly. She’d be easily mistaken for a slightly thinner, brunette relative of Christina Hendricks. My cock was getting harder by the second.
“My fridge decided to die on me right now. Would you mind storing just one or two things for me? They’re supposed to come in tomorrow to fix that.”
“Sure. I have a lot of space available, actually.”
“Really? Thank you!” Her eyes almost glittered and she happily headed for her door.
After a few minutes she came in, not as loaded as I had expected. I noticed that I had left the pull-up bar mounted on the doorframe. I removed it while Danielle got her food relocated. She had taken almost half of the small freezer, which was empty, save for the ice. Note to self: buy frozen mango for shakes! After a few random items from a bigger grocery bag, she timidly fished out a gallon of milk. Two. Three. Four gallons? What is she, some kind of half-calf?
“Can’t live without milk.” She didn’t look at me. “Let’s see how many I can fit in here, without being a bother.”
“If they fit, just leave them there. I really don’t store that many things here. And see that artichoke dip? It’s new. It’s yours.”
“Wow, thank you!” She hopped happily and gave me a quick hug. I prayed to seven different gods, hoping she didn’t notice that I was hard from just looking at her. All seven bastards graciously ignored me. It brushed against her navel. She froze. Danielle quickly regained her composure and stuffed the last three of the gallons inside the refrigerator. We found ourselves hoping for a way to divert the attention. Mercifully, something popped up in her mind. “So, Elle was talking about you today at work.”
“Elle?” I scanned my memories for any Elles I might’ve known, let alone that might have also known my hot neighbor, cursing myself for not using this connection before to get to Danielle.
“Well, not ‘Elle’ as in the name, but more like ‘L’, the letter. That’s what we call Lorelai.”
I almost stared stupidly. “Ah. Well, Lorelai?” Fuck. And eloquent, eh, Dante. Chances severely lowered in case she did break up with Mr. DanielleBoyfriend.
“Yes, blond, sporty… She doesn’t look like the kind of girl that would go straight to business, to me. And I guess you have also talked, right?”
“Oh, well, we do talk—”
“That’s what I think, anyway. L works in the same high school as me.” Wait, she works in a school? “I’m HR. She’s PR.”
“I see.” No, I really don’t. “I hope that it wasn’t anything bad,” and I really did. Because suddenly, I didn’t like the conversation so much.
“Yup! I don’t mean to judge, but why play dirty?”
“Well…you did quite the number on her yesterday.” She, at least, was amused. More than I could say about myself. “But…she’s about to have a boyfriend, you know? Why would you do that?”
My, my, my, this is getting better by the second. “She what?” I ignored the fact that she somehow planned her life as in ‘I will have a boyfriend soon’; she almost made me betray one important principle I kept.
“Yesterday, she met you outside the store, right? She went all, ‘I…I’m telling Dante I’ve got a date. The relationship’s almost official.‘” Danielle did a spot-on Lorelai impersonation. I smiled. She continued. “But! Just like that!”—snapping fingers for extra effect—”you convinced her of…of not behaving so well. I could tell.”
Don’t act surprised, Dante. You wanted her to hear. Did she just check my jeans’ bulge right now? “Wait a second.” I tried to defend my case. “She never mentioned a boyfriend.”
“Is that right?” She closed the distance between us, as if challenging my credibility in a playful way. If she checked my goods, I felt entitled to reciprocate. I looked at her breasts as stealthily as possible. Nice. Very nice. The skin was perfect; I could almost feel the softness.
“I don’t do that kind of thing. I wouldn’t like to be cheated on, so I don’t help others cheat.” Unless their significant other is a complete douche bag.
Danielle didn’t believe me, but she let it slide. I noticed that she wasn’t uncomfortable when our eyes met. Her having a boyfriend did work against my scrutiny; she didn’t feel overwhelmed. But at the same time, she didn’t move back. I could hear her breathing and I imagined her breathing in a VERY different situation. My erection twitched at the thought. And, of course, she saw it. Suddenly, the sexual tension was creeping back. Worse, I was the only one who was tense, apparently. I waited for the other proverbial shoe to fall and make things more awkward. It didn’t, fortunately. The silence was so profound that she noticed something in the background.
“Dante! Is that Japanese music?”
“I listen to everything. Turkish, Arab, Japanese, Korean. I like variety.”
“I speak Japanese,” she said, her tone resembled the one used by children when they mischievously reveal a secret.
That was suddenly interesting, not only because I was ogling her. Ladies, just so you know, finding active brains isn’t a turn-on only for you. There’s a few of us men who find intelligence and culture not only intriguing, but it actually cranks up your hotness score. Although Danielle had just climbed up the ladder even higher, I refused to stare stupidly. I had to say something. “Honma?”
She actually laughed, and, fuck my hormones, her laugh also aroused me. Unfair. “Subarashii! Kansai ben? Demo, hai, hontou ni. Ojiisan wa Nihonjin desuyo.”
“Nande yanen!” I also playfully slapped her shoulder, as required by the phrase. A good excuse for me to touch her. Touch that sent a wave of a pleasurable something, too.
“Really! I mean, I might not show it, but I’m one-quarter Japanese. Grandpa refuses to speak to me in English—Refused.” Danielle experienced grief when she corrected herself and then it quickly washed away. It was refreshing to find a person who freely showed her emotions, one after the other. “How come you speak it, and, of all, with the Kansai accent?”
“I spent a while in Kyoto and Osaka—”
The nice connection was interrupted by her ringing phone. “Baldy!” she bubbly answered. It was cute in a way I wouldn’t have liked to experience. Her boyfriend was going bald. She lifted a finger, asking me for a minute. I obliged. When the phone conversation was over, there was a new air between us. More comfortable, unfortunately. “Anyway, I’m off to eat something before Jason picks me up,” she added, picking up a milk gallon.
“Wait, aren’t you going to leave that here? Take a glass.”
“Meh, I’ll just drink it all.”
A whole fucking gallon. In a single meal? I squashed away all the dirty comments about me, her, and milk that crossed my mind. “Hey…well, if you’d like, you can wait here for him.”
“Thank you, but I have to get into something decent, you know?” She excused herself with a gleeful, “Thank you! Byeee!” When Danielle closed the door, she left me with questions and a hard-on.
During the workout, I did more pull-ups than needed, until my lateral muscles warned me they’d be getting an early retirement if I kept harassing them like that. I needed to get the edge off and exhaustion sounded like a good plan. Right. Frozen fruit for my shake.
I jogged back to the store, extending the workout. Just for kicks, I trotted through a different path on my way there. I saw Danielle and her boyfriend, Jason Baldy, zoom by in his car. That damned woman needed to stop crashing into my mind; I had just stopped thinking about her.
I got some frozen mango and soy milk. The store was playing a song that I knew, and that meant I was going to have “The Sun Always Shines on T.V.” on my mind for the next hour or two. Great.
Resuming the workout, I trotted down the street. I planned to exhaust myself. When I had enough breath, I found myself muttering ‘hold me close to your heart, touch me.’ Damn you, A-ha. Damn you and your song.
She was the image of defeat and frustration, which I found a bit dramatic. She was probably 20, tall, with red, wavy hair. Cute. Her predicament: a very flat tire. She regarded me with hope, but didn’t voice it aloud. I walked towards her and skipped the obvious, odious questions. “Do you have the tools to do it?”
“D’you mind?” New York accent? New Jersey?
“Not at all.”
“In the trunk, here.” She clicked a button on her keys and the trunk moved slightly, accompanied by an unlocking sound.
I dug around until I found what I needed. I changed the tire while amicably talking with her. Trish, recently moved to the city, hated the drinks here, especially her vice. “Quofee? Outrageous East Coast accent.” I employed some kind of deadpan tone, and she laughed. Her breasts jiggled when she did, and I paid more attention to her body. Not natural D cups. They worked very well for her height. She was roughly my height, six feet. Her red hair was natural, judging by the freckles not concealed by a very light amount of makeup. Eyes, darker than mine, but with a sensuous almond shape. She was damn gorgeous if you didn’t feel intimidated by her height. I sure didn’t. Was she still laughing? Maybe a bit too much for a simple joke. But it was done. Tire successfully changed. Sweat and tire-grime were my new accessories.
“Well, Trish, I’d shake your hand, but I’m dirty.” I nodded to end the conversation, yet she reached out for my hand and shook it.
“I don’t mind that. After all, you did the gentleman thing, and all!”
“An Unlikely Gentleman,” I shrugged, knowing that she wouldn’t get my meaning. I was about to turn away when she placed a hand on my chest, ignoring the sweat.
“Maybe, but I’m still very grateful. How can I thank you?” Whoa. That is fast. Her tone indicated that she had a few ideas, but I didn’t want to assume too much and become the ass that misread the whole deal.
“Uh…you can buy me dinner one of these days if you appreciate it that much, or something,” I told her, not moving my eyes away from her.
“Or something.” She accepted the second option, trailing her hand down to the waistband of my running pants.
“I…well, let me get cleaned up, my apartment—”
“You’re sexy, all sweaty like that.” Ok, when did girls get so easy? I mean, I can live with that…but when? She was already in her car. She patted the passenger’s seat. “I live fifteen minutes away from here. You?”
“Three blocks away.”
“Your place,” she almost purred. No complaints there.
I had barely closed the door when she embraced me from behind, her hands snaking around my body. Trish trailed her nails down my torso until she arrived at the waistband. “It IS a six pack what I feel,” she hummed appreciatively. Not all of the six of them showed, but I wasn’t about to correct her. Turning around, I placed my index finger on her chin, then moved it down slowly until it was near her breasts. From there, I went towards her back because she pressed against me, touching tentatively until I found the bra hook. Undone, without getting rid of her blouse. She smiled devilishly at me. “And here I thought I was going to thank you.”
“You are.” I began by massaging her breasts through the fabric, relishing the texture of it, the softness of her mounds. She sighed happily, and I slipped one of my hands under the blouse. They might not have been natural, but they were an impressive job of a very good surgeon. I placed the second hand underneath the garment and felt her up with a little bit of impatience. She stopped for a second, her face suddenly very serious. I didn’t know what she was considering or remembering, so I asked a silent question with my eyes.
“Hmmm…I like that couch” She pointed at the brown piece of furniture “You are going to fuck me against it.” I couldn’t prevent an anticipatory growl from escaping my throat. Feisty girl. I approved. She walked towards it, discarding her clothes efficiently and quickly. Trish sat on the edge of the couch in her panties and socks only. Her underwear was plum colored, small, and sexy. Her breasts stood up with a perkiness that enthralled me. She moved her panties slightly to the side, showing me a perfectly shaven but damp pussy as she caressed herself. “Y’like your reward?”
I moved towards her…past her… I could feel her confusion. I reached behind the TV and produced a small, metallic wrapping. Yes, condoms behind the TV. I didn’t know when or where they might be needed, so I had planted them strategically all over the place.
Without haste, I removed my clothes. We barely knew each other, yet I counted on the visuals to work for us. Getting rid of the shirt, I found myself slightly flexing so my muscle definition was enhanced. She opened her mouth slightly, hungrily, her hand moving faster. She was wet enough that we could’ve even skipped the foreplay.
I kept my pants on and strode towards her, making sure she could read in my eyes all the desire I felt. She answered with silent resolve, as if accepting the challenge, but defined the rules. “I still have to turn in an essay before midnight, so we gotta be quick.”
I nodded and slowly lowered my pants along with the boxers, exposing my length little by little, showing that I was already quite hard. She showed me her teeth slightly, and when I took her beauty in, I noticed for the first time that she had her navel pierced. Don’t blame me. I had more important things to be distracted with!
I prowled towards her with the confidence of a conqueror and opened the condom wrapping. She extended her hand towards me, her fingers sticky with her need, and touched the base of my cock. I could imagine myself plunging into her without anything between us, but I had to be cautious.
“I want a taste,” she let me know.
“It’s okay. This just looks yummy.” Girl, I haven’t taken a shower. Before I could say that aloud, she kissed and sucked on the tip. I sucked air in with my teeth closed, making a hissing sound. “You DO taste good,” Trish informed me right before diving back in, sucking me as if I were the best thing she had put in her mouth in years. She knew what she was doing, and I let myself be loved. But it stopped all too soon. “If we had time, I’d do this for hours.” She deposited that statement into my eyes from below, and I believed her. “But we don’t.” She leaned back, raised her open legs, and stayed there. The invitation couldn’t have been more obvious.
“Enough time for me to make you cum. Hard.” This confidence without cockiness worked again, because her eyes glittered. I sheathed my manhood in the condom, thought about getting rid of my clothes, and decided against it.
Stretching one hand over her head, onto the backrest of the couch, I bent over her. The other one grabbed my cock, and before getting it in, I slid the head up and down her entrance. Her pussy lips were aching for it, but I gave myself a few seconds to rub my manhood against her clit, and then lowered my hips slightly to be level with my “prize.”
The first seconds of having sex might be one of the best, so I got the head in and savored the moment, letting her adapt to my girth. I drew it back, and then pushed in just a few millimeters more. Back. And in again, invading her little by little, taking as much time as a quickie can allow you.
Every time I went deeper, she gasped. I could see the world disappearing for her, and I became her all. She was really enjoying herself, without any shame of being hungry for more cock. When our groins met, she closed her eyes and lifted her face slightly.
Both my hands moved up to the sturdy part of the backrest, and I pulled back until only the tip was in. Then, knowing she was wet enough, I slammed myself into her, and stayed there, pressing against her body. Trish yelped. I grinned. I pulled out almost completely again, trying to analyze her insides with the most sensitive part of my body. Then I rammed against her body one more time. She let out a satisfied, “Ooooh!”
“I like my prize,” I said, my eyes burning into hers.
I pulled back, that time, too slowly. It was the kind of moment on a ride in an amusement park, when it all goes painfully slow, right before the rush. I did the same with my cock. I could almost hear the “clickclickclick click, click, click…click…click…” I unleashed a series of savage thrusts into her, clenching my teeth and driving my dick into her pussy—as if I wanted to flatten her—using my pelvis to do so. Trish screamed, punctuating every single pistoning movement with her voice. “Ah! Ah! AH! Ah!”
Her breasts moved in an obscene but alluring way. I bent closer to her, concentrating on ravaging her body. I had noticed that a certain angle had had a better response from her and I replicated it. “Ah! Ah! AH! AH! AH!” Yes. That’s the one.
She opened her eyes, and I knew I had made her mine. If I hadn’t been fucking her like a madman, I would’ve thought she was outraged. But I knew that kind of pleasure. I smirked at her and opened my mouth slightly at her breasts. I couldn’t reach them without letting go of the back of the couch. She got the instruction and fed me one of her generous, fleshy globes. I sucked on the nipple. Hard. I felt five nails on my left bicep. She was digging her hand into it. Sensitive breasts? That was good to know.
I flicked my tongue and I tasted something with alcohol. Sniffing, I could think of…perfume. On her breasts? Whatever, Dante, concentrate! I alternated the tongue movements with nibbles and she lost it. Her hands let go of my arm and her right breast.
When she recovered, she took her other breast and guided my head to it with urgency. She was breathing hard and her face was difficult to read. Before kissing her other breast, I gave her one simple order. “Don’t wait for me. Cum. NOW.” I kept attacking her body with mine. Her walls closed in around my shaft. My pelvis made wet sounds, loud. Letting all my tension work for our benefit, I closed my eyes as I worked on her breast, sucking hard, biting slightly, and flicking my tongue at the same time.
With my eyes shut, I concentrated on the feelings and on the sounds. It was primal, we were fucking in a way that left no doubt that our bodies were calling to each other like animals. She was giving away strong moans with each thrust, but suddenly went quiet. Even through the condom I felt her cumming. She began spasming, massaging my cock erratically with her inner muscles. Was almost there and—
Motherfucker, she is going to make me bleed! Her nails dug into my back, making me lose my concentration. For a second I thought she was going to ruin my back tattoo. My eyes opened, and I bit her on her nipple, slightly harder than before. I sucked hard, part in revenge, part to make her cum harder. I was still close, more so after seeing her face contorted with pleasure. That was going to leave marks on my back. She was hungry for more, just plain and dirty. I liked it.
I fucked her mercilessly until I felt it building up again within me. My back was sweating, maybe bleeding, and I didn’t give up when she finally started breathing again. There it was, my balls moved closer to my body, and I felt the head of my cock sending a flood of pleasure signals to my brain, making me tense.
I had thought I couldn’t fuck her harder. I was wrong. The couch complained under the mistreatment of our bodies as I stopped caring about her pleasure. She had come. It was my turn then. Maybe I was being a little too rough, but I used her, sliding my cock in and out at an angle that created the most friction on the right parts for me. I sucked even harder as I felt the condom being filled with my seed with each jet. The suction made her gasp.
Was she cumming again? I had lost control by then and just pounded into her without rhythm, grunting through the rest of my orgasm. She was cumming again. Instead of simply stopping, I kept pumping, mostly for her, as I was spent—doing it until I felt her coming back from the high.
I extracted the condom and dispensed it quickly in the almost-full kitchen trash can.
“We’re doing this again,” she said, as if it were hard to believe that I could give her such sensations, “but not today. I need your number, e-mail, Facebook…everything.” I nodded and felt my face going back to its typical lack of expression. I rummaged quickly in one of my drawers and produced a card. “Ah-SAY-duh-queue?”
“Acidaque is enunciated as Ah-see-DAH-keh,” I corrected her.
“Nice to meet you, Dante Acidaque. Where’s th’last name from?”
“Spanish word that comes from Arabic.”
“That’s why you’re, like, white, with that dark hair and light brown eyes.” She used curious hand gestures while enumerating my traits.
“Explaining my genetic background would take us an amount of time that I’d rather spend fucking you,” I unapologetically sentenced. I either expected her to take offense, or—
“You got yourself a deal. I’d rather have your genes in me, than explained to me, too.” Trish smiled as she got dressed.
Blessed day off. Weekend before starting in the other office.
Danielle’s piano could barely be heard in the distance. I’d thought of joining her with my harp, as many things could be said through music without words, but it was too risky. Would she feel like I intruded? I stayed firmly glued to the couch. As I flipped through the channels, absentmindedly caressing my back that HAD bled (slightly) from the previous day’s activity, my smartphone buzzed with an email notice. I was one of two recipients.
LUG meeting this upcoming week or what, bitches? I humbly suggest Saturday, since Friday’s my anniversary. If you’re pussy whipped and unable to come, let me know!
I smirked. Gabriel was such a dork. I didn’t think he could actually say “bitch” aloud. But he was one of my best friends. As I was about to type the answer, the doorbell rang. Nobody used the doorbell, and the piano had stopped, so thank goodness I had just gotten laid hours before. Otherwise, I would’ve jumped on Danielle.
“Heyyy!” Gods, is this woman ever not giddy? And fucking scrumptious? She was wearing a very professional, dark red dress that made me want to bend her over and do not-so-professional things on her.
“Hey.” My answer was definitely less energetic.
“The technician needs some part that I didn’t understand, and it’ll take a day or two to get it fixed! I really hope you don’t mind!”
“Not at all, don’t worry.” That means you’ll be around more often. I didn’t say it aloud; my voice would’ve betrayed me, and it would’ve sounded hungry for her.
She walked in towards the refrigerator. “Well, it doesn’t smell like sex. What kind of deodorant spray you use for this place?”
That was very direct for her usual banter. Was I getting friendzoned? “Excuse me?”
“Yeah, I mean, it’s not like it was a secret thing and all.” She was mirthfully conspiratorial.
“I didn’t see Jason’s car parked yesterday.” Great, idiot, let her know that you’re checking every detail of hers.
“Ah. Well, maybe it… Well, I wasn’t here.”
“Then how did you…?” It dawned on me. “You know Trish!”
“She’s a student. I get along with her very well.”
“You set me up!”
“You poor, poor soul had to endure having sex with a 19-year-old.” Her tone was far from sympathetic, in friendly banter mode.
“She is 19!”
“Perfectly legal. And she’s a good friend. After L going out of the market but giving us the details, Trish called dibs.”
So Danielle knew probably everything, hell, maybe even the dimensions of my private areas just by having two friends that had slept with me. Awesome. “But it just happened—” I complained.
“Who do you think texted her when to stand on that street with a ‘flat tire’? Dante, you go out every single day to that store to buy something!” Flat tire with air quotes. She actually had made a scheme to get a friend laid.
“Couldn’t she just have come on over and said, ‘Hey! I’m your Lorelai replacement. Let’s do this’?”
“And feel like a slut?”
I was not about to argue with that, even if I understood nothing of the logic behind it. While talking to her, I put my hands in my pockets to give my erection some kind of concealment. She went over to the fridge and got out one of her milk gallons.
“Can I use a glass?”
I got up to fetch it since Danielle was definitely too short to reach the cabinet. I handed her the glass and nodded when she thanked me. Then I saw it. A tiny spider on her hair, near her neck. Where the hell it might have come from, I didn’t know, but I said nothing. If I have learned anything about spiders, it’s that the X chromosome is terrified of it. Usually, XX means freaking out about them. My hand shot out to swat it away.
Danielle gasped, seeing me reaching out for her. When I touched her hair and neck, she let out a breathy sigh that made contact with my arms. She appraised me with an unreadable expression. I couldn’t do it. I wouldn’t screw things up. “Had something on your hair.”
She visibly relaxed. From fright, arousal, or what, I couldn’t tell. But I had learned that her neck was sensitive. “Thank you.” She smiled and I had to step back. Her scent was driving me crazy.
“No problem. Why so fancy?”
“The school is giving awards to the highest GPAs and we’re all supposed to attend. It’s later today and…wasn’t your hair different?”
Busted. “I darken it.”
“Oh. Wow. Well, you pull it off very well. I would never have guessed.”
“Let’s not publish this. People seldom take hair dyes on a guy in a positive way.”
“Don’t worry. Your secret is safe with me,” she said solemnly, as if I had given her nuclear launch codes to safe keep.
After I had touched her hair, it seemed we had overcome some kind of stage in our friendship, and she reached over to touch my shoulder in what was supposed to be a comforting gesture. I felt it firing up very inconvenient needs. It was my turn to breathe deeply and move away. ‘She has a boyfriend‘ became my new mantra. And I hated it. But this man Dante followed his rules. She, too, stepped back slowly, as if measuring my reaction, and went to the living room.
She sat on the couch. I did my damned best not to think of anything. “Actually, I have to go to a salon to get my hair done for the event, so I’m bailing in a few mins.” She sipped her milk. “But I have a question!”
I just nodded for her to proceed, still in thought-denying mode.
“You play harp, I think? I’ve heard it.”
“And you speak Japanese. By any chance, do you know any TVXQ songs?”
“Obviously ‘Doushite’, since it has harp. Also, ‘Begin’, ‘Love in the Ice’…and ‘Proud.’”
“You should learn ‘Bolero’! But those are very nice.” Her phone emanated some weird sound, and I attempted to fry it with my mind. My mental superpowers demonstrated their lack of existence. But I could ogle her without surveillance. She giggled when she read something. “Well, whatever you did to Trish, she is texting OMGs yet again. I’d better go. Hair needs to be done! And I suspect you’ll be ‘entertaining’ a guest very soon.” Air quotes yet again.
Sex three days in a row? I was starting to like that week.
“You. Y’re gonna do all those things to me—all that yesterday stuff.”
“Not a chance until you file those nails. I fucking bled.”
Trish had already closed the door behind her and was getting rid of her clothes as if they were on fire, ignoring my comment. “I’ve been wet all day, y’know?”
That helped. But if there were a good chance to play dumb, I’d take it. “Why?”
She ignored me again and stood perfectly naked in front of me. “Why are y’still clothed?”
“Patience, kid,” I told her, amused.
“Kid! You’re not old enough to be my dad.” She was working very hard to undress me in record time, and I let her.
“Ten years older…yeah, couldn’t be your dad,” I conceded.
Trish stopped for a while and blinked with plain disbelief. “Shut up! You’re what, twenty-nine? I thought you were like twenty-two…”
So, she’s aware that Danielle and I have already talked about her age. I finished lowering my briefs and my cock sprang towards her pretty lips. “Twenty-nine, but horny like a sixteen-year-old. Now hurry up. It’s not gonna suck itself.”
“Pffft, who’s the impatient one now?”
“Don’t you pffft at me, kid.” I enjoyed this unexpected chemistry between us. But I enjoyed it more when she got to sucking my cock with a passion seldom seen in other partners I’d had. She even hummed happily, as if there were no greater pleasure for her than having my penis in her mouth. And I was barely acquainted with her. For all I knew, it could have been her greatest pleasure.
This girl knew her stuff. Her mouth was a wonder. The suction was in the borderline of overwhelming pleasure and a bit of pain, her tongue patterned and unpredictable but soft and skilled, and her lips applied the correct pressure.
I groaned and had to steady myself against the window. I reveled in the visual and kinesthetic glory of the girl who was giving me more than a blowjob; she was worshipping my dick like nobody I had ever met. My breathing was loud, but not more so than the obscene, wet sounds our bodies created. She was sloppy and enthusiastic beyond any expectations.
“What d’you eat?” Trish asked, jacking me off while she talked, then going back to it, eager to make me cum.
“Huh?” I was utterly confused.
“You taste so good…what do you eat?” She proceeded to kiss the underside of my penis.
“I…uh…” Honestly. My IQ was down to a single digit with her treatment.
“Anyway. Gonna cum soon? I want it.”
I groaned yet again and suddenly remembered that I did have another hand. I felt her hair, soft, silky, and a bit tangled. At first I directed her movements little by little, but she whimpered in such a wanton way that I soon found myself fucking her face, to both our enjoyment. There was this feeling…her fingernails caressing my balls. And that sent a shot of adrenaline, because I knew what those nails were capable of. But at the same time, I already was trusting her enough to suck me off. So why wouldn’t I?
Out of the blue, Trish started sucking harder and did something with her tongue. A deep sound crawled out of me, and then I warned her. “I’m close…” The Dante I knew liked giving orders, and he didn’t disappoint. “Swallow it all.”
My command was met with an enthusiastic muffled moan, and she continued her treatment of hard suction and whatever it was that she did with her tongue. She touched my abdomen appreciatively when I began pumping harder. She felt my core contract as I came. I ejected a large amount of semen, as if I hadn’t cum in weeks; it felt thicker, hotter than before, coming out in spurts that drained my energy.
Trish surprised me. If I had thought the previous sounds had been obscene, these were downright sinful; her swallowing was just incredible. I had thought she wouldn’t go with it. I orgasmed silently, feeling her lap everything up, and I shuddered, thinking about how pleasantly kinky it was, having her obeying. My knees stopped giving a damn about supporting me, leaving me to rely on my arm against the wall and window. I opened my eyes, which I hadn’t even noticed closing.
Right in front of the window. Thank goodness Danielle’s apartment was the only one that could see the show and she was busy in a… Was there movement behind the curtain? Wasn’t she supposed to be getting her hair done or something?
I had more pressing matters. Like a horny teen trying to devour my meat. I did believe her then, that she would probably be able to do that for hours and suck me dry. But that’s not how I played. “Up.” She tried to evaluate my intentions, slightly worried. I assumed my tone had been forceful, because she appeared to think she had done something wrong. I’d have to remember she was young. “You were very good, now I’m going to repay the favor.” Well, I should’ve played a “hallelujah” chorus as a background to that comment, because her eyes lit up.
When I had been in college, the average guy wasn’t fond of going down on girls. I assumed that the percentage hadn’t changed greatly. And since Trish had made me cum first, now I had to compensate for it. She actually tried to pull me down so I would attempt it with both of us on the floor. That wouldn’t be comfortable enough. I pointed towards my room.
“So I finally get to see th’bed, Mister?”
I had called her ‘kid’ to tease her. I did have that one coming. “You have earned the rare privilege of spending the night with me.” I held the door open and made a theatrical hand gesture towards the bed. “Notice I didn’t say the word ‘sleep’, by the way.”
She didn’t act like a child, however; she swayed her hips towards the bed, crawling feline-like and settled herself, using as much space as possible on the mattress. “Then this is my side of the bed,” she informed me, breathily.
“Under you.” She beckoned me with a finger, and I had to admit that she knew how to keep a guy turned on, even if I had just cum.