Surprise Page 9

  So as I lay here against the cold sheets, while the rain raps my window pane, staring at my cell phone, I pose the question: should I or shouldn’t I?

  Pressing the talk button and bringing the phone to my ear, I talk into the receiver, seductively putting my request in to have my erotic fire put out. So it doesn’t take a genius to figure out whose number I dialed and, just like a good boy, T-Bird came to put my fire out. Now that it’s all out there, should I feel bad for wanting what my body craves? I don’t think so.

  Like my momma always used to tell me, temptation may be sweet at that very first taste but temptation also has a tendency to turn bitter & rot. Temptation can turn your life upside down and temptation can be and is always, a muthafucka. Well, how everything turned out in my situation, I guess momma wasn’t lying. T-Bird was and is still my temptation, and I’ve got it bad…like a muthafucka.

  Penpals

  Jax

  “Dear Katie,” he wrote,

  “You asked what I like: I’m seriously into anal.

  I’d love us to meet.”

  Jim

  “Dear Jim,” she wrote,

  “I’d love us to meet soon. Delighted you like Greek.

  Don’t be shy. Tell me your fantasies.

  I’m playing with my clitty imagining a hot rimming session,

  followed by a deep two finger ass fuck.

  After that, the brown gully will be gagging for it! Not too

  much lube, mind—it has to burn. I love it fast and furious.

  I’ve just come, visualizing your horny asshole stretched

  around my twelve inch strap-on dildo.”

  Katie

  flash fiction

  The Best Defense

  Lee Minxton

  “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” Jerry’s stern look made Megan burst out laughing.

  “Don’t worry, Jerry. I always want what’s best for the team, just like you do.”

  “Liar! You just want James.” He chuckled as his apprentice turned bright red. “Never mind, I’m going home. The door will lock behind you when you leave. If anyone catches you, I was never here. Good luck.” With that, the grizzled physical therapist turned and ambled out of the rink.

  Megan took a deep breath and opened the door to the locker room.

  James Sebastien, the league’s top defenseman, lay face-down on a massage table. His golden-tipped brown hair flowed down to his exposed shoulders.

  God, how could he make a mullet—a mullet with highlights no less—look so sexy? Her heart skipped a beat as she paced towards him. Might as well start with the time-honored classic, she thought. “Hello.”

  James raised his head and turned it toward the voice. His exhausted smile gave him an angelic aura in the bright lights. “You’re not Jerry.” She smiled at the slight Quebecois lilt to his speech, still present after his move to the States years earlier.

  “That’s obvious. Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you.” Megan took a bottle out of her tote bag, and flipped the top open. “You were excellent out there tonight,” she intoned shyly.

  “I’m just there to help my teammates score.” He tensed as the first squirt of cool liquid hit his shoulder blades, then sighed as Megan’s warm hands spread it over him. “If people notice me, that’s a bad sign.”

  Who couldn’t notice James? Megan marveled at the feel of his muscles as they seemed to melt under her touch. She took her time kneading his broad shoulders, flattening her palms as she moved down his freckled back. “Where does it hurt?”

  “My lower back’s a little tight. No big deal, but it does tend to flare up.”

  She concentrated all the brawn she could gather into her small hands, moving her thumbs toward his sacrum. She pressed in slow circles, waiting for cues that would tell her when it was too much. As he started to loosen up, she moved outward in larger arcs, massaging the place where his rounded, powerful buttocks began to curve up at her.

  “I’m going to have to work this whole area pretty deeply. Just so you know.”

  She pulled back the towel, trembling as her prize was revealed. Megan had never really appreciated the male backside until she started watching hockey. Even though it was concealed under multiple layers of bulky uniform, James’ ass was what she always gawked at during games. It moved elegantly as he glided away on the ice. With one swift bump, it delivered his might as he hip-checked goons from rival teams into the boards. Sometimes she felt as if he were taunting her with it, practically sticking it in her face.

  That gave Megan an idea.

  She reached into the bag and rummaged through it. James heard suspicious rustling and froze.

  “What’s that?”

  She rubbed his rump soothingly, giving it a pat for good measure. “Relax.” Quickly, Megan squirted more of the liquid into her hand, and smeared it onto a dental dam. Struggling to spread his firm cheeks with one hand, she smoothed the square, lubed side down, over his rosy opening. He flinched at the lube’s initial coldness, then groaned as it matched his own overheated temperature. Emboldened, Megan began to lap her tongue around his vulnerable little hole as it twitched beneath the taut latex.

  When James saw Megan, he had hoped to fondle the shapely breasts that jutted proudly through her T-shirt. He’d daydreamed about standing her up against his locker and sucking her clitoris sore. In his mind’s eye, he would have bent her over one of the benches and fucked her ravenously. Instead, all six-foot-three and 220 pounds of him were jackknifed onto a massage table in his own team’s locker room, incapacitated by the tongue-lashing of his life. Megan swirled him like an ice cream cone. Her mouth was a quiver’s worth of arrows, and he was Saint Sebastian. At this point, Saint James Sebastien couldn’t even muster the strength to beg for a full release.

  Megan had a clairvoyant streak. She caressed the side of his hip, enjoying the interplay of tendons and tissue there. She insinuated fingertips underneath him, keeping a steady rhythm with her tongue. When he arched his hips slightly, she slid her hand over to his straining balls, cupping them gently. She reached for James’ inflamed cock, which dripped onto the towel beneath him. Megan beat him off expertly, as if she could predict how each nerve ending in his body would react.

  His asshole was a vortex of sensation, getting hotter as his satisfaction built. Pleasure spread down his taint to his swollen balls and up through his rocklike shaft. When the hardest jolt hit the sensitive opening of his cockhead, his whole body clenched under Megan’s merciless tongue. The defenseman’s screams echoed through the locker room as he shot his load into the loving hand of his greatest fan.

  Megan walked over to face James. Looking him in the eye, she lifted her shirt with one hand and rubbed his semen into her breasts, giving her nipples a little pinch. As he gasped, she leaned over and kissed his ear. “I knew you’d love it, sweetheart,” she whispered teasingly. “Welcome home.”

  “My god, Megan,” James panted. “You said you might surprise me one day after a game. I had no idea you’d…surprise me.”

  “Hey, you’re not the only one who works best in the slot.” Megan helped him off the massage table. She grinned as she handed him his clothes.

  “Let’s get out of here. You’ve had enough excitement for one day.”

  James drew Megan in for a kiss, letting her linger against his bare skin for a moment. “That’s what you think,” he murmured.

  Shopping

  Miel Rose

  I woke up that hot summer morning with my toes inside Cole’s mouth.

  My brain was slow to catch up. She hadn’t slept over the night before. We had a date planned for that morning, but this was not what I had expected. Her soft tongue played between my toes and pulled me out of the sticky, foggy slumber my brain was lost in. My body started responding before the rest of me became conscious. My hips were already moving in small circles and my legs were trembling. I opened my eyes, moaning as the nerves in my toes relayed the sensations straight to my pussy. She slid her tongue ove
r my burgundy lacquered nails, slipping my first three toes in and out of her hot, wet mouth.

  “Morning, princess,” she said when she saw my eyes open, nipping her way down my instep with her teeth. I smiled and stretched sleepily, arching my back. I could feel my thighs slip against each other from more than sweat as I shifted my position.

  “You naked under that sheet?” Her hand slid down my leg and I parted my thighs for her. She lifted the sheet and peeked underneath as her thumb played over my sticky thigh, just shy of my pussy. I spread wider for her, hoping she had come over to fuck me.

  “Damn, beautiful, you got wet so fast.” She ran her thumb over my slit, once, and brought it up to her lips, sucking it clean.

  “You know you drive me crazy sucking my toes like that.”

  She grinned at me, but made no move to touch my cunt again. Instead she slapped my thigh and said, “Get up and put on something pretty. I’m taking you shopping.”

  “What?!”

  “Girl, you heard me, don’t make me repeat myself.”

  I was so confused. I had never been shopping with her, let alone been taken shopping by her. I never liked the idea of dates buying me things. I’d seen too many relationships where gifts of money and material objects played out in twisted and manipulative ways. I had watched my mother play that game with boyfriend after boyfriend. I wanted no part of it. I thought I had talked to Cole about this, but it hadn’t really come up much. Between her own bills and her mom’s, who she helped support, she was always broke.

  I sat up, letting the sheet fall away from my body, and made my way to where she was sitting at the end of the bed. “Are you trying to tell me,” I said, straddling her lap, “that you came over here, woke me up, got my pussy slippery wet, and now you want me to get dressed and leave my house without even getting fucked? What kind of shopping?”

  Her arms, strong and dark from working so much in the sun, circled behind me, pulling me close to her. I noticed she was packing a very large cock under her jeans. What the fuck was she planning?

  She reached up and touched one of the hoops hanging from my ear. “Baby, how the hell do you sleep in these things? They are huge!”

  “You’re changing the subject. Answer my question.”

  “Which one, you asked at least two.” She pushed my messy locks and earring out of the way and started kissing on my neck. It felt crazy good, especially when she started sucking the salt off my skin. If she really wasn’t going to fuck me, I wasn’t interested in being more turned on than I already was. I grabbed her hair and pulled her off of me.

  “Answer me!”

  “Okay! Okay! Yes, I want you to get dressed and come out with me. I’m going to fuck you, but not yet. I just got paid and I want to take you shopping. Since I’m running this date I can take you wherever the fuck I want and don’t have to tell you shit. Now do you want to cooperate and play nice? Or are you going to be a total pain in my ass all day?” She leaned back a little, smiling, waiting for my answer.

  “I’ll show you a pain in the ass.” I lunged forward, trying to push her down to the bed and get her twisted over so I could spank her ass. She was too quick, too strong and too ready for my bullshit. She wrestled me down to the bed and I shrieked laughter as she pinned my arms down to my sides.

  “Bitch, you are incorrigible,” she said, laying her body on top of mine.

  I smiled up at her and spread my legs, letting her weight fall directly on my naked pussy. I got in a few good grinds against her denim covered bulge before she raised her hips out of my reach.

  “You are such a slut,” she laughed, kissing my nose, “and I love you. Now get up and get dressed for me.”

  She let me go and I huffed up off the bed. She usually took every opportunity to fuck me senseless and I couldn’t understand why she was being so resistant to my charms. I was also nervous about what this shopping would entail, and how the very obvious bulge in her jeans fit into the picture. I decided to play along for now.

  I was tempted to draw out the process of choosing my outfit, but decided to get it over with, picking a halter top that barely contained my tits and a short denim skirt. I brushed my hair and went to the bathroom to piss.

  I was just finishing applying some eyeliner when she opened the door. I turned to face her, my eyebrow raised in a nonverbal question. She closed the distance between us, one hand on the back of my head pulling me into a kiss, the other up my skirt caressing the parts of my ass that peeked out from under my panties. Her tongue slid into my mouth, soft and slow. My knees went wobbly and I felt pussy juice soak my panties.

  She pulled back, a smile in her eyes, turning up one corner of her mouth. “You look beautiful, lets go.”

  Our first stop was this hip shoe store downtown. We walked in and she made a beeline to a display of heels—heels I’d been lusting after for months. They weren’t just any heels, but a new design from this orthopedic company that were supposed to be easier on your body. Sexy, stylish heels that wouldn’t fuck up my already fucked up joints? Maybe it was bullshit, but I was willing to fall for it. These shoes were expensive though, like fifteen times more than I was used to paying down at the Salvation Army. I hadn’t even been able to justify starting to save for them yet. Something else always seemed more important.

  I hadn’t told Cole about my tortured love affair with these shoes and I racked my brain trying to remember who I had told. She knew to hold up the exact style I wanted and ask the sales woman for a pair in my size. I didn’t even know she knew my shoe size.

  When the woman ducked into the back I said, “Baby, these shoes are too expensive. I can’t let you buy these for me.”

  Her eyes turned stern on me. “I’m not going to argue with you.”

  The woman came back with the box and handed it to me, then returned to the front of the store to help some people who had just walked in. Cole sat down in a chair and crossed her arms over her chest, determination setting her face. “At least try them on for me.”

  I looked at her and bit my lip. My lust for these shoes was winning out. I slipped off the shoes I was wearing and opened the box. God, they were beautiful—black leather, open toed with a thin ankle strap. The heel was substantial and not that high, maybe two and a half inches, but the thought of being able to wear them for hours in relative comfort, walk around in them, was dreamy. Most of my time in heels was spent on my knees or flat on my back.

  I bent down and slipped one on, buckling it around my ankle. It was perfect, the leather so soft it left me breathless and got my heart beating faster. “Here,” she said, “let me do the other one.”

  I handed her the box and placed my foot in her lap, balancing on the one shoe. I glanced over my shoulder. The sales woman and the other customers were absorbed in their shoe selection. I turned back and moved my foot directly over her cock, running my toes up and down her shaft, pressing down with my arch, pushing the base into her clit. She let out a little grunt and quickly got the shoe out of the box and onto my foot, buckling it smoothly.

  My stomach dropped like I was on a roller coaster. Putting my feet into these shoes was like putting my hand up someone’s cunt. It was like fucking.

  “Walk around for me, sugar.”

  I walked around the store, swinging my hips, trying to feel out the chances of rolling my ankle. They felt pretty solid. I wanted these shoes, but I still felt weird about her buying them for me. I decided to try to talk some sense into her one more time.

  I sat down next to her and got as far as, “Baby...”

  She sighed in exasperation, grabbed my chin and kissed me softly, once on my lips. “Listen to me,” she said, her hand on my chin, her eyes serious. I couldn’t look away. “I love that I don’t need to buy you shit to keep you happy. I love that you are resourceful and that you made half the clothes in your wardrobe from scratch, but baby, YOU CAN’T MAKE THESE SHOES.” I started to laugh, I couldn’t help it. She smiled her crooked grin. “I respect you as an artist, but you ju
st don’t have the skills to make shoes like this. Besides, you’re always saying that butches should learn how to support femmes. I’m just supporting your gender expression, sugar—and if I’m supporting my own sexual fantasies at the same time, well we both win don’t we?”

  Buying shoes for us wouldn’t be on the top of my list of ways I think femmes need to be supported, try acknowledgment and respect, but I was done arguing. “Fine, baby. Fine.”

  I sensed the sales woman hovering and turned toward her as she said, “Are you all set?”

  “Yeah, we’ll take them,” Cole said. “You want to wear them out, honey?”

  “Yes.” There was no way I was taking these babies off.

  She paid and we were out in the heat again, my new heels clicking on the sidewalk.

  “How do they feel?”

  “Like sex.”

  “That good, huh?” She laughed. “I’m glad you like them.”

  I stopped and turned to face her. “Baby, I don’t even know how to thank you.” Suddenly I felt like I was going to cry.

  “Hey,” she pulled me over to a bench and sat me down. “Honey, sugar, darlin’, it’s nothing, its just money! It’s a gift, not some fucked up thing I’m going to hang over your head until I squeeze some gratitude out of you. It’s not like that. I’m not trying to be your sugar daddy, I just wanted to buy you some pretty shoes. Okay?” I nodded my head. It made me feel better that she was starting to understand my discomfort, even if I was having a hard time articulating it. “Now I want to buy you a new bra and some panties, so lets go to the mall.”

  “The MALL?” I was really being a pain in the ass today, but the mall makes me crazy, really, it gives me panic attacks.