Category Archives: FREE READS

Stories and excerpts.

A Thing for Feet

edited by Tanja Ongkiehong


Copyright © 2016, 2017, 2018 Adira August All rights reserved. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either wholly sprung from the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

Fiction – short story – erotica


Adonis.

That’s what they called me in high school. Girls followed me from class-to-class.  Crowds of them. Like I was some class A Hollywood hunk. They’d surround me, some walking backwards, all talking at once. Touch me. Pull at my clothes.

     It scared the shit out of me. I learned which classrooms were empty when I walked through the halls. I’d duck in and lock the door. Teachers would break up the gaggle of girls and make them go to class. Then I’d be late.

Toupée Tolliver, chemistry, would say, “Ah! The God of Youth has deigned to join us. Detention again, Mr. Shore.” He’d look over the class and tell the girls not to bother acting up, he wasn’t giving any of them detention.

None of this was my fault. I didn’t make us study mythology. None of those girls knew who Adonis was until we all had to research him and Aphrodite and all that crap. The “cult of Adonis belonged to women” Wikipedia says. No shit.

The “archetype of handsome youth.” Fuck my life. It wasn’t just the teachers who hated me, it was the guys. I mean, you can’t bitch, yanno? They would have killed to have girls hanging all over them. Offering what most guy had to beg for. Weird thing is, I think if I’d taken all of it, they’d have been fine.

Only I didn’t, so guys were always trying to pick fights with me. “Mess up yer pretty face.” Like, okay, I was 6’2″ by the time I was a junior, so that meant I had to be some superjock, tough guy?

Hey, I like kicking ass as much as the next guy. In the classroom, in a debate, in a science fair. The gods must have been really pissed to play this cosmic joke—nerd in a stud body.

I didn’t pick my looks. I mean, okay, I worked out, but mostly because they didn’t let girls in the guy’s weightroom. I was born blond. Not that white blond Norway shit. Darker, like beach sand. Only any time I’m in the sun it it gets lighter parts in it.

So then they started saying I got dye jobs because in the winter, it would grow out.  Roots. I took to cutting it super short. Didn’t help.

The face is my face. It’s not lumpy or weird, I guess. Everything’s where it should be. Fucking dimples.  

All that was bad enough, but I have this thing.  This sex thing. And I sure as shit couldn’t tell anybody about that, either.

SENIOR YEAR they started locking the empty classrooms because they caught a couple kids smoking in one. Not cigarettes.

I’d walk down the hall with my head down, looking at the floor. At my feet. The girls were still there, crowding around.

So I looked at their feet.

It was just after Spring break. There were sandals. A lot of sandals. Even in jeans, you could see their toes. Painted, decorated. Hearts, flowers, stripes, stars. Toes with rings or chains or even little bells.

They’d have straps that wrapped around their feet. Ankles. Every step their feet would spread just a little and the straps tighten around their feet. Then loosen. And tighten. Their toes would spread and flatten. Spread and …

My dick turned into lava rock. I learned to walk with books held over it.

English Lit was the worst. And best. Ellie Janes sat on my left. She always wore jeans and a t-shirt with some kinda girl thing. Flowers or unicorns or some shit. And she always wore thongs. Flip-flops, not underwear.

She’d sit back in the chair and stretch out her right foot, and her cuff would pull back and the whole top of her foot would be exposed, and part of her ankle. Sometimes she’d twist around and cross her ankles and I could see her left foot. The inside arch, all pale and smooth and high, swooping down to the mound under her big toe. Her mound was sweet and round and kinda puffy-looking. Pink.

But it was what she did if she got bored. You know how people drum their fingers on a table? She did that. With her toes. I mean, maybe she wasn’t bored, maybe she had to pee or something, but it was just like fingers. Her toes would wriggle and then, one after another, press into her shoe and come back up. A toe wave. Over and over.

Oh, man. I was barely 18. A boner lasts forever when you’re 18. Except for the time I tried to push it to the side when it got caught in a fold of my jeans behind my zipper.

Ellie was drumming her toes and I was thinking what it would be like to have her foot in my lap and take every pink, round toe pad between my fingers and roll and knead them and wondered if she’d like it or be ticklish and then I thought about holding her foot and lightly running my fingers up and down and she’d fight a little but be laughing and I’d grab her other foot, too …

Couldn’t stand it. I tried to lift up slow so no one would notice. Tried to shift when I did it, to look normal. Like I was just getting comfortable. But the second I slid my hand along my dick through the heavy cloth, I blew my load. In English Lit. In my pants.

FUCK. MY. LIFE.

I kinda jumped and yelped a little. Mrs. Casper asked me if I was okay. She was older. At least she liked me. Most women teachers liked me. I told her I had a foot cramp. She called it growing pains and asked if I needed to take a walk.

Oh hells yeah, I do. Books in front of stain. Not too bad, the underwear caught most of it. So, I got cleaned up in the lav and jerked off again, hoping I’d make it through the rest of class. Down boy. Stay.

I took to piling my books on the top left corner of the desk, so the teacher would  get used to seeing them there. Then I got out my cell phone. Nobody thought anything of holding a cell down under the desk. They just figured you were texting or playing a game. Watching porn.

I recorded Ellie jiggling her feet, drumming her toes, crossing her ankles, wriggling her left foot so the thong slid sideways. You could see everything.

And yeah, I do know I turned into creepy stalker dude, okay? I already felt like a shit pervert. WTF was wrong with me, anyway? But it’s not like I could make it go away. And no way I could pay to find foot porn online without my parents knowing. There was some stuff on forums, pictures. But it just wasn’t Ellie with her perfect little round toe pads doing the wave.

I thought of some ways to approach her. Like say I was thinking pre-med instead of pre-law and I wanted to do an experiment in reflexology and I needed a test subject. I could get a couple posters up of the pressure points and what they stimulated or whatever. Maybe make a form she could mark off where in her body she felt anything from the manipulation of her foot. I’m nerdy enough to get away with it. Science project.

Then I’d be thinking of my erection and her noticing. That fantasy went one of two ways. A, she wanted me and loved that I would use her feet. B, she screamed and ran out and told everybody I was a pervert.

B seemed like the sure thing. And besides, we were two weeks from graduation when I thought of it. No more science projects. So I uploaded the phone vids to the cloud and watched them in my room or in the bathroom or in my car. Travel sizes from the grocery were the trick. Little bottles of baby oil or lotion, little packets of tissues. Just stick ’em in your pocket.

LAST WEEK OF SCHOOL. I’m in English Lit early, lamenting the loss of Ellie’s drumming toes in four more days. She breezes by me to her seat and drops a paper on the floor.

“You dropped something,” she tells me. Then slides into her seat and ignores the paper.

Girls were always giving me notes, sticking them through the vent in my locker door or leaving them on my chair. They were always folded up into weird origami shapes. I threw them all out.

But this was a big sheet of notebook paper. I could see there were a few words on it. So I picked it up.

I need a foot rub.

I look at her. She’s looking straight at me with a little smirk. She cocked an eyebrow like, “Well?”

I nod. Once. I bet it would have looked really cool to anyone watching. But I’d pretty much stopped breathing and my cock stole all the blood from my brain and was searching for an escape route.

A?  It’s gonna be A?

Mrs. Casper is talking, gathering up our final papers and Ellie’s attention is up front.

“You have no more work for me, but I know you have several more finals. So, you can study here, or go to the library, or computer lab if you …”

Ellie got up and walked out. I held my folder over my crotch and joined the thundering herd breaking for the door.

When I got to the hallway, I could see Ellie at the end, turning toward the smoking door that led outside where there was a big ashtray thing. I caught up to her just as she pushed the door open to go out. I reached over her head and flat-palmed it wide for her.

As we walk out she says, “You know the house on Boylston with all the lawn ornaments, flamingos and shit?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s mine. Be there at six-thirty. Park in the drive by the garage.”

She walked away. I checked my watch. Eight hours. I didn’t know what she really wanted. Maybe I was going to be inside her. Like really all the way inside  … oh shit.

Eight hours. I was eighteen. I had time. I headed for my car.

THE DRIVEWAY went back around the house to this big two-car garage. She was sitting on the steps of her deck and sauntered over when I pulled up. She was wearing sneaks. Damn. And little pink athletic socks with a fuzzy ball at the back.

“Don’t look so disappointed,” she said, reading my face. “Just keeping them clean for you.”

What?

“You want to put them in your mouth, right?  Isn’t that part of it?” she asked, smirking at me again.

OH FUCK YEAH! Is what I did not shout. I didn’t leap out of the car or make a witty rejoinder.

I nodded. Again. Pretty sure if I said anything it would have been “urphlec.”

“Not too talkative for a state debate champ, are you?”

“Parents?” I asked. I had to know what the deal was.

“C’mon. You don’t have to put your books over it, now.”

She turned away and kinda ran up on the deck and inside and came out with a couple beers. And I notice her. Like, the rest of her. She’s wearing some kinda short dress with three big buttons in front. Only not a dress—like a swimsuit cover thing.

Legs. She had really long legs and these thighs I wanted to pet. And squeeze. And her ass kinda stuck out and lifted the back of the short dress-thing.  Her tits weren’t so big, but they jiggled every step—so no bra. Like soft serve ice cream with a cherry on top.

I went up and took one of the beers. She still had her hair up, like in school, wound round and a big plastic clip in it.  I wanted to take that clip out. And she still wasn’t wearing make-up. The other girls always did, but she was just plain. Only now I looked at her close-up … her face?  She was cute. Barely came up to my chin …

“How old are you?”

She drank off half her can, her head tilted back. I never noticed girls’ necks before. But her throat moved when she swallowed.

“Two months older than you, sport,” she said. “Let’s sit. You there.”

She pointed to a deck chair but it was pushed too close to another, face-to-face. I started to pull it back. She put her hand on mine. Her little hand with the slender fingers she could wrap around my – shit.

“Leave it right there,” she said.

I did. I barely had room for my legs. She stepped right over the arm and settled in hers with her feet pulled up to her ass.

“See, it’s better this way,” she said and straightened her legs. She put her feet on top of my thighs, like I was a footrest.

“You can take them off, if you want. We can talk. I have a plan.”

Okey-dokey, yuppers, yeah, I certainly will, you betcha, oh my fucking god, YES!! I reach for one foot.

She finished the beer and burped behind her hand. “But slow. Go slow, okay? One thing at a time. I want to remember this.”

So, lava rock is drooling all over and I can feel the hot sticky mess I am even without blowing my load, but, what if this is my only chance? Slow. Okay. She’s right. Smart girl, yanno?

I pick up one foot. My hand cups her ankle and back of her shoe. My thumb moves over her inner ankle bone. Not pointy. Rounded and smooth. Slopes down. I pick at the laces. I notice she’s talking.

” … Myrtle Beach, so he won’t be back until Monday. My brother’s in the Peace Corps, so he won’t be back until December. My mother’s at my aunt’s college graduation, she’s spending the night. And I’m on the pill and we have to have a deal.”

The laces on the shoe I held were all loose and I slipped it off her foot, holding a finger over the little pink fuzz ball to save the sock. I was totally focused on her foot, sloping down under the edge of the sock. There was a vein … Her other foot came into view. She put it on top of her sock foot.

“Hey – I’m talking here.” She sounded a little pissed.

“I heard. Everybody’s gone. You want a deal,” I said, looking at the little puffs of her toe pads against the stretchy fabric of the sock.

Wait. Deal? I looked up. “Deal?” Articulate, huh?

“We graduate Friday. I start at Cal Tech summer session Monday. You’re going, where for law school? Someplace out east, I bet.”

“N.Y.U. In August.” I didn’t mention the scholarship. I knew her family could afford anything she wanted.

“Yeah, so we’re never going to see each other again,” she said. “I’m … we’re adults, okay? I never—okay, I never did anything with a guy. I want stuff. I’ll let you do what you want with my feet you’ve been drooling over all year, as long as you don’t hurt me. And then you give me what I want.”

I could feel pins and needles all over my skin. fuckfuckfuck “You knew? Does everybody know?”  

“Yeah, of course I knew, you never looked anywhere else,” she said. “I don’t think anyone else knows. Why? You have a girlfriend who doesn’t know?”

“This is all between us, right?”

She nods.

“I never did anything with a girl.”

“With her feet?”

“At all.”

Know how they say somebody’s jaw drops open?  Only it never happens? Hers did. Crap. And I was so close. Kinda took care of the boner, though.

“Where’s your bathroom?”

“Inside, right.” She pointed.

It was a guest bath by the kitchen. You know, toilet, sink, little towels you can’t use.  I turned around to close the door and she was there. With both shoes on. So much for A.

“I want to watch,” she said.

“You’re crazy.” I could feel the heat in my face.

“You have a thing for feet,” she said. Couldn’t argue.

“Why should I let you?”

“That’s the deal,” she shrugged.

Hang on. “We still have a deal?”

“Yeah. This way’s better.”

“Why?” I really needed to get my now cold, sticky, getting itchy dick cleaned up. But I wanted to know.

“We won’t judge each other.”

Yeah, that would be good. Still … “You can’t watch me piss.”

“Okay,” she agreed. She cocked her head. Her eyes were green. Huh. “What else are you going to do?”

Are all girls like this? “Just … you can watch. Tell me what you want.”

I opened my jeans and slid everything down mid-thigh. I used one of the tiny towels you can’t use and put warm water on it and cleaned myself up. I kept my head down. I didn’t want to see her.

Only she was in the mirror. Her mouth was open again. She was staring at my dick. Which was in semi mode.

I felt an immediate longing for my lit book. Feet. Remember her feet. You’re a grown man now, go with it. Get to the prize.

“It’s huge,” she said. Kind of whispered, really. She was killing me, here. My chest went red, not just my face. Shit. And she was a virgin.

“You never saw an erection?”

“Online.”

I started wiping at my underwear, to get the precum off.

“Did you … you know,” she said and now she was all red.

“No, this is precum. You didn’t read about that?”

She nodded. “Yeah. Good. So you can still do it?”

I kicked off my shoes and dropped my pants. Screw it. I wasn’t putting wet, cold whities on. I turned around and gave her a good look. “If I get off now I can do it again like, every twenty minutes, okay? Is that what you want, to not be a virgin?”

“Yes.” She kept staring at me. “I want to have boyfriends at college, you know? And I don’t want to be a clueless loser girl some asshole frat guy thinks he can -”  She looked sad or something.

“But if I have sex with you, you, then I’m not a loser girl. And it’ll show, somehow. And when I find a good guy, it’ll be better.”

She unbuttoned her dress thing and opened it. She was naked under. First thing I saw was the hair. Really dark brown patch of curly shiny hair.

“I never missed a day of school. Never didn’t turn in an assignment. Never got less than an A. I’m a good girl. I don’t want to be done and end up that.” She spit the word out like it tasted bad. “Tell me what you want.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” she says. “Really.”

“Okay. I want you to go get dressed like for school only leave the shoes and socks you have on. Then I want you to sit next to me and watch TV. That’s what I want.”

“And you’ll do stuff with my feet?” She closed the dress.

“Yeah.”

“And then you’ll touch me all over and have sex with me?” She asked and licked her lips. Her mouth was small and pretty, her lips all pink and plump.

I nodded.

ELLIE TOLD ME to meet her downstairs in ten. I told her I still had to piss and as soon as she left, I locked the door and pumped it. Ten minutes until I went downstairs. At least twenty more before I’d need to put it in her. I might never get this again, ever. I couldn’t even think about her feet or putting it in her without figuring I’d cum in seconds. So I drained it.  

Besides, she might like it. I wondered if I could make her like it. In the A fantasy, she always liked it.

I went commando under my jeans and threw the jockeys out on the deck to dry. The stairs were off  the front door. It was nice downstairs. Real windows. Regular walls and carpet. TV took up one whole wall, practically.  Matching couch and chair, not some used up crap, like at my house.

Ellie was on the couch with her feet on one of those giant fabric coffee tables. I don’t know what was on the TV. Didn’t care. She had a shopping bag, a green cloth one with a tree on it. She handed it to me.

Inside there were wipes and baby oil and lotion and, believe it or not, a dildo. A pink one. It had a switch on the end like a flashlight. It vibrated.

“You used this on yourself?”

She nodded. “But not, you know, inside. Not all the way. Just a little. Enough so I know I won’t bleed.”

Great. Sex with smart girls. They think of everything.

“I’m just gonna watch TV now,” she said.

I sat next to her for a while. She started to get nervous and her right foot was jiggling. I could see her doing the wave inside her shoe, the knuckles of her toes pushing up against the fabric.

I laid my hand on her thigh. It felt so fucking good. I squeezed a little. She let her legs fall open and relax. Then I was sliding my hand all over inside her thigh and under. I mean, how does half a leg feel that good? How can just that, feel that good?

Up by her pussy I could feel her heat. Was that from me or was it just like that? I slid down and hooked my fingers under her knee and pulled her leg over mine.

She just went with it. I used both hands on her calf, stroking and working my way down. Then I had her foot in my hands again and I was not letting go. I didn’t care if her whole family showed up to binge-watch Elmo’s fuckin’ World, no way was I not doing this.

I took the shoe off and lifted her foot with the little pink sock still on. I was about to rub my face against her instep, I wanted to feel her, smell her. I stopped. Shit, she’ll think I’m too weird. I look. She was looking right at me. Her lips were wet and her eyes shiny and dark.

Screw it. I pulled her around so she laid back on the couch and shoved my nose into her sweet arch and sniffed. Oh fuckfuckfuck it was … jeezus so good. Sweet and dampish and some undertone of sour, it was like people describe tasting wine. She had layers. Fabric softener and sweat and something from the shoe, sort of like rubber.

I moved my nose up over the ball of her foot and pressed it deep into the furrow under her toe pads. The cloth kept me from feeling her, made me wait to taste her. I bit the pads of her toes through the cloth and scraped her with the edges of my teeth. Each toe, each succulent little bud wrapped in fragrant cotton.

She squirmed and made a high sound in her throat, but I didn’t care. I used both hands on her foot, keeping it where I wanted. Slow. Careful. I rolled her sock from her ankle down over her heel. Stopped with just her heel exposed. It was rosy pink. Not flat on the bottom, but kinda rounded.

I kneaded the edges, outer and inner and lifted her foot. Her foot felt so little and delicate in my hand. I scraped my teeth over her fullness there, sucking hard at the pink flesh.

I heard her make another sound.  

And I’m wondering how dumb was it to start with my jeans on, but I don’t want to let go of her foot. I mean, my cock was doing things, but my whole insides, even my asshole was like it had a pulse in it. Everything was tight and hot and the pressure was unbelievable and there were like sparks running up my spine.  

She made that sound again and squirmed and I held her tighter and rolled her sock further toward the ball of her foot, exposing her arch. The rosy part of her heel narrowed at one side to a strip of pink. Her arch was so creamy-looking, smooth and curved.

I nuzzled her there, and the scent of her was more like some lotion, now, the smell of her shoe gone. I rubbed her against my mouth and sucked her arch, eyes closed. She tried to pull back but I held her in place. She squirmed. Then I felt something on my cock.

I came up for air. She’d gotten her other shoe off and was rubbing the bottom of her foot up and down my cock through my jeans. No. Too good. I didn’t want to come, yet. I needed to suck those toes.

I began to see why guys wanted to tie girls down.

I pressed her foot into my crotch really hard but didn’t move it. I could feel him back off a little and I stuck her foot under my thigh, trapping her. It stuck out. She was laying back flat on the couch and kind of panting. Staring at me, her eyes so big and dark and her mouth open. It was so fucking hot.

I had one foot in my hand and her other foot under my thigh. I pulled her sock off the one in my hand with my teeth, and ripped the thing off her foot under my thigh. I ran my fingers lightly up and down and across the bottom of her foot sticking out from under my leg, feeling the dips and rises and curves.

She jerked and started to laugh and tell me no. That was the hottest thing, yet. So I kept tickling her.

She started fighting. Trying to kick both feet. But she was little and I wasn’t. And while I tickled the one foot, I sucked hard at the ball of her other foot, and stuck the tip of my tongue between her toes, like plunging it fast in between them but still going slow and light on her other foot. And she was like writhing and her hair all came loose and she was laugh-screaming, begging me please, please stop.

Then she stopped begging and started panting. Hard. And her she rubbed her thighs together and kind of twisted like a cat stretching.

I did stop then because like I said, I didn’t want to blow my load yet. I was pretty sure if I kept it up, I’d go off without even touching myself.

She laid there gasping and her nipples were really big now under the t-shirt. And I felt something I never did before around any girl. I felt in control. Girls were always like a swarm of octopus. They’d surround me and wave their tentacles around. I never knew what they’d do or which way they’d move.

“Take your shirt off,” I said and my voice sounded like someone else. Thick and hoarse. She did it. I ripped her pants off, then, tossed them across the room. Jeans and panties. Didn’t even notice the panties. I kicked that huge footstool thing out of the way and dragged her to the floor.

“Don’t move,” I told her. And she didn’t.

I got out of my clothes and sat on the edge of the couch with her feet in my hands and then, holding her by the ankles, opened her legs and stared right at her pussy. It was not like any of the pictures online. It was swollen and open and shining wet. It was pretty and pulsing. Holy fuck.

I slid down to sit on the floor, my back against the front of the sofa. Legs crossed, I slowed myself down. I took each toe pad between my thumb and two fingers and rolled them. Kneaded them. Bit them and sucked them. I ran the tip of my tongue under and along the secret valley between them and the balls of her feet.

I drooled. My cock drooled. I didn’t care.

She was laying there with her tits jiggling from me moving her feet and legs and from squirming around. It finally occurred to me she was trying to get her legs together. Her nipples looked like bright red stones. She had her hands around her tits, like she was trying to hold them still. Or up.

“You want me to touch your nipples?” I asked her. She nodded. She looked like she had a fever. “You want me to touch your pussy?” She made that sound in her throat, that high thin sound. She nodded again. “Hand me the bag,” I told her.

Her bag had fallen off the footstool when I kicked it. She reached and snagged the handle and dragged it over.

“First I get what I want,” I said. I tossed her a couple throw pillows from the couch. “So you can watch.”

I didn’t know a look on a girl’s face could be so hot, make me harder, make me want to shove my dick in her, in her mouth. But I wanted her to see me, first.

She put the pillows under her head and I got out the baby oil. I wanted her feet smooth and slick. I leaned forward and pulled her hips toward me. Her feet in my lap made her knees bend, opening her cunt up. I never thought they really got that wet. All puffy and pink with the clit stuck up like that.

The outsides of her legs lay against the insides of mine, bent, with her feet together. I oiled my cock and her feet. Massaged and rubbed.  I took her feet, all slick with the oil and pressed them hard against my throbbing dick and jacked myself. Slow. Go slow. Remember this

She stared like she was starving and I was a cream-filled cannoli.

I squirted the oil on the insides of her thighs and her belly and rubbed it all over her and up to her sweet swollen, mounds. I rubbed my palms over her nipples, they were hot like hard coals against my palms, and she was moaning and squirming and I knew she wanted more. But she’d have to wait.

With her feet back around my dick, I pushed against the tops of her toes and I could feel her toe pads sliding up and down my shaft. I twisted then, a little, and shifted my hips so I could get her big toe against the sweet spot just under my dickhead and fuckfuckfuck I clenched her toes and balls of her feet over the head and then it was fast, so fast and hot and slick and I watched my bright red shiny head between her toes, her toes ….

The cum streamed out and out and out and out. It landed on her pussy hair and her belly and there was more and more—never like this, never like this before. I thrust between her feet hard until it was all the emptiness.

WHAT WAS WEIRD was, after that, I just wanted to worship her. I didn’t even take a minute before I had my hands in her hair, (she had amazing long thick shiny hair in that clip) and my mouth on hers and she was holding my face and making my jaw and lips do what she wanted. She poked her tongue into my mouth and I pushed into her and it was like we already both knew how to do it.

She guided my hands over her nipples and down between her legs and showed me how she wanted my fingers to move and where and used me against her clit to come. That was amazing, that rock-hard nub of fire, like a tiny dickhead in the center of soft pillows of heat and wet.

She put my finger inside her, and she was so soft and slick and then it was three fingers and she was so tight. I could feel the muscles tighten. I could feel it on my dick even though I wasn’t in her, you know?

I was hard again and it wasn’t even twenty minutes. I was still worried because she was so little, but she made it alright. She grabbed my cock with both hands and kind of pulled me into place against her opening and rubbed my cockhead all over her. Holyfuckingshit it felt – I just poured pc all over her.  

I  wanted to pound into her, but she guided me inside a little ways and stopped me and then a little more and more. I didn’t know girls stretched in like guys stretch out.

Her legs wrapped around my waist and everything tilted and I slid way inside, so far I could feel the end of her and she was amazing tight. It was … nothing can explain how good this is. If I pinched her nipples, she clenched around me. It made me crazy. Made her crazy.

And it was all great because she showed me what she wanted and how and all the years of worrying what the fuck I’d ever do for some girl who obviously thought I was a sex god when I was just a guy like any guy and how I’d disappoint her, that all went away.

I swear, for that one day I was in love with Ellie Janes.

Anyway. I fucked her. I mean, you know, nice. Hard, but nice. And she liked it. And then at one point she put her hand between us and got herself off while I was inside her and I just exploded in her again.

It was so cool she did that. She used me, you know?  Just like I used her feet. It kinda made me feel like I was what all the girls thought I was.

We kept thanking each other. It was bizarre and perfect. We took a shower and raided the freezer and had pizza rolls and really did watch TV.  She kept playing with my balls with her toes. So, yeah, we very definitely did it again.

What Ellie really gave me, well, she gave me a lot, but mostly she made me feel like I wasn’t a freak.

Now I just tell women I have a thing for feet. Some are ok with it, some aren’t. Assistant District Attorney Natalie Denholm is. If I’m against her in a courtroom, she’ll wear a pair of those heels to distract me. Ones I’ve seen when we’re alone.

She likes to start naked but with a garter belt on. Stockings. Heels that make me want to crawl on my belly just to lick them. I have to get her off with whatever toy she hands me before she’ll let me take the heels off. Then the stockings. After a while. After an orgasm or two. Hers, not mine.  She likes to Domme. It’s all good with me.

Sex with smart girls. The best.

The Hot, Ginger Security Guard (link)

Adira August (blog and self) are proud to present a freshman work by a new writer. At 2400 words, you could read this on break, but just try to concentrate until lunch after you do.  Comments are open, come say hi to Renny, I had a hell of a time convincing him to let me do this.  (Maybe we can get him to do it again…)….


Looks like you did!

The response was so good, Renny opened his own blog where you can now find this story!  It’s free, so I’m not false advertising, but I don’t want to be in competition with him about his own work. Yup, he’s admitted I was right!!! 

DUCK!  Damn, that buzzing porker! So, here’s the story, go, read, enjoy and follow. 

 



ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

Reinier Baezman-studio-portrait-light-90764


Hey there, I’m Reinier Báez although I prefer Renny, mostly. Unless it’s the police or the warden (ask a good friend of mine about the warden, she can tell you!) then it’s definitely Reinier.

Come to find out people are actually interested in the escapades of a Cuban from Miami. Huh! A Cuban from Miami, imagine that. What are the chances, right? Miami boy through and through and I still have that Miami accent. New York has nothing on us with the accent thing, papo.

I was sharing laughs and stories with my partner in crime, Adira, and she was all like “you have got to write some of this stuff down, it’s fantastic” and silly man that I am, I listened to her.

I came of age in 1970s Miami when water was free and you paid for porn. When if you had ‘the look’ you didn’t get carded to go into ‘those’ discos – I was the one with tambourine, OK? It also helps I had a full beard by 15. It also helps I like sex. A lot. No kidding. There’s nothing to be ashamed of or dirty, sex is something to be celebrated and enjoyed, like fine cigar and a scotch. The more, the merrier.

I remember, sometimes a little too fondly, the Cocaine Cowboy days and the renaissance of South Beach. When South Beach went from old, semi-decrepit retirement hotels to a hopping sea of delicious debauchery full of muscled mens.

Now, as a gay man of a certain age living in South Florida I get to still enjoy my favorite sport, although now I’m a happily married gay.

I think I’ll continue to write down some of experiences. For posterity. Yeah, that’s it, posterity.

Little Favor

GET READY …

“How is it when I say ‘Go away and don’t come back,’ you hear ‘Come on over and shove your dick up my ass’?”

Mike Merisi buttoned his top button and watched himself tie his tie in the dresser mirror. He needed a haircut. Maybe if he got out of here in a few minutes …

“There’s no reason to be hostile, I simply said we could try again.” The voice came from the cell Mike had set on the dresser top.

“And why,” Mike muttered as he slid the knot home, “did I put my phone on speaker instead of mute?”

“I can hear you.”

“It was a good run. Almost two years. It’s over. Let go,” Mike told his former lover, loading his pockets from the dresser top. “We can remain … pleasant to each other.”

“I have feelings, Michael. I’m not ready to let go.”

Mike shrugged into his coat. Car keys. Breath mints. Check.

“It’s Monday morning. You cruised around all weekend and couldn’t connect. You’re horny as an old man’s bunion so you called me looking for a convenient hole to fall into.”

“Michael! How can you be so crass?” Wounded outrage. A Kenneth Special.

“I have to go to work,” Mike told him, grabbing his cell off the dresser. “I’m hanging up, don’t make a drama out if it.”

He dropped the cell into his inside breast pocket, grabbed his laptop case from a chair and was out the door.

MICHAEL ANGELO MERISI had been an inexperienced nineteen when he met Kenneth. The tall blond, twenty-five, seemed urbane and sophisticated. He took what remained of Mike’s virginity and coached him in the finer aspects of sucking cock, choosing wine and knowing what to wear, and where to wear it.

But Mike was always the thrustee, never allowed to satisfy his growing need to push inside Kenneth’s admittedly fine ass. Mike’s vague dissatisfaction turned to resentment that hardened into an ultimatum: take it by turns or give me back my door key.

“You can’t understand, Michael, I’m a natural Dominant. I simply couldn’t.” Kenneth started the Keurig and selected a flavor enhancer.

“Manipulative, self-centered and anal-retentive do not a Dominant make,” Mike had informed him, arms crossed over his chest.

Watching Kenneth measure a precise amount of hazelnut-mocha into his cup, Mike knew he did not want Kenneth to give a huge sigh and say “fine.” In fact, Mike didn’t want Kenneth at all.

It wasn’t that Mike believed himself such a catch; he was the most average guy he knew. His northern Italian heritage didn’t leave him with the smoldering dark coloring of his southern cousins. His hair was a warm brown, his eyes a lighter shade of same. Medium-toned skin, his face more round than long, he did not stand out in a crowd.

Five feet, nine and a half inches of average build. Though he’d begun working out and his shoulders had begun to stretch his shirt.  He was almost six inches when serviceably erect. Not sausage fat or pencil-dicked, just a penis that worked well. Average.

High-cheekboned Kenneth was seven inches. Six feet as well as six-packed.

Pretentious, long-suffering fussbudget.

“Leave your key on the counter,” Mike had told him, and gone to shower.

MIKE TOSSED HIS laptop case into the passenger seat wondering again if he was heartless. He hadn’t felt a second of hesitation hanging up on Kenneth. In fact, he felt … buoyant.

Maybe it was the working out. In the last weeks he’d had to move up a shirt size. His suit pants tightened around his thighs when he strode along. He just felt damned good.

His cell chimed as he put the key into the ignition. Mike steeled himself, but it wasn’t Kenneth.

“Nora. Let me guess, the big crane toppled over on the concrete truck, so he’s running late.”

“Almost,” the lilting soprano of Cal Derricksen’s assistant came back. “Electrical inspectors. I have to push you back an hour.”

“It’s all good. I’ll grab coffee, get a haircut, and be bright-eyed and well-groomed when he’s ready for me.”

“You can be half-asleep and shaggy-haired as long as you have the competitive bid analysis for parking lots and landscaping.”

“Hang on,” Mike said. “I thought ventilation and water systems was today.”

“What! Are you shitting me?” Absolute panic.

“Yes, I am,” he said pulling out of the lot. “Gotta go, no cell allowed while driving.” He clicked off, grinning.

He really liked Nora. In her late forties, she combined the best qualities of supermom and meth-head piranha. She took care of her boss by tearing strips of flesh from anyone who failed, disappointed or opposed him.

Mike understood.

Calvin W. Derricksen was all sharp intelligence and total control. He was a human dynamo in tan side-pocket chinos and a light blue denim work shirt. His navy tie always loosened, a brushed silver tie clip held the end out of his way. A black poplin jacket hung on the back of his executive desk chair.

He wore brown leather slip-ons with white socks. A pair of scarred work boots waited near his desk. In under two minutes, he could be in them,  jacket on, tie up, and out the door. His sudden exits from his office to the big construction site were common.

Cal dressed the same way every day. He said it saved time not thinking about irrelevant crap when he had so many critical things to keep track of. Like making sure a building he built didn’t fall down with the occupants inside.

But as demanding as Cal was as a site manager, as focused and no-nonsense, he ran out without bothering with boots or coat when one of his crew was injured. Cal laughed and lifted heavy loads and sometimes drank beer with his guys. That’s what he called them: “My guys.”

Once, after one of Cal’s dashes from the office, Mike spotted him a half-hour later through the window wall, leaning against an upright. He was laughing with one of the workers while standing on a girder, ten stories up.

It was hot. So was Cal’s wavy black hair, warm hazel eyes, dusky rose slash of a mouth and tight round buttcheeks. The soft fabric of his pants stretching over his ass as he reached across his drafting table’s wide, slanted top didn’t hurt, either.

Mike Merisi had a hell of a crush.

TAKING HIS COFFEE into Cut Lass, Mike relaxed in the salon’s waiting area and thumbed through a style book.

Ten minutes later, Valeria settled him at her station. Val was a blue-streaked, caramel-skinned, seriously ambitious Guatemalan import. Most of her family worked in her shop. Mike understood the struggle starting a family business. His father and Uncle Leo launched Construction Accounting Consultants from Leo’s garage. Mike did Val’s books for free and in return, she cut his hair. He was a generous tipper.

“Saw you lookin’ through the book,” she said. “Now you grinnin’ like my nephew with a fistful of wiggle worms. You get some news?”

Mike fished a business envelope from his pocket. The letter had come yesterday; the paper already softened from many rereads.

“Greetings from the City and County of Denver. Dear Mister Merisi,” she read out. “We are pleased to offer you an appointment to the position of police officer …”

Val whooped and threw her arms around his neck. “About time, man, you been after this for like, a year!”

“I start at the academy in a few weeks,” he said, unable to suppress the grin  that split his face.

After civil service testing, background checking and psychological evaluationing, he’d been found fit to hold people’s lives in his hands. To be trusted with a deadly weapon and the decision to use that weapon. He and thirty others  had emerged from the pack of almost two thousand who’d sat the Civil Service exam. Mike Merisi was one month from realizing his dream.

“New life, Val. I need new hair.”

“How ‘bout a low taper fade,” she asked, running her fingers through his medium length locks. “This is good. Thick. Not too big a change, but sharp.”

“Let’s go wild. How about a mid?” He took his letter back and put it safely in his breast pocket.

“You got it. You gonna be edgy. Hot. You gonna be the Man, you know? Officer Muh-ree-see.”

She helped him off with his suit coat and shook out the cutting cape.

LAPTOP CASE OVER his shoulder, Mike grabbed the clear document tube of parking lot schematics from the trunk. He took the six steps to the 12-story building’s entrance in two long strides. Cool air met warm skin where his hair was newly shorn. It felt pleasantly sensual.

Pausing in front of the doors, he yanked off his tie and shoved it into his pocket. Opened the top two buttons of his shirt.

Mike made his way through the building’s unfinished lobby, heel sounds dulled on the exposed concrete. Hammer strikes, power saw teeth on metal and men’s shouts echoed off unfinished walls.

One car was in service in the six-car elevator bay. Inside, the walls hung with protective canvas, Mike pushed twelve. The powerful upward surge of the car triggered a familiar flow of warmth, like electric pinpoints. His pants tightened at the crotch. He smiled at himself. Anticipation makes you horny.

Mike had caught subtle glances of interest across the desk from Cal Derricksen during several of their meetings. He was sure there’d been some hand on crotch dick-shifting under the desk. But he’d waited for Cal to make the first move; he was the client and a very important one. To Mike’s disappointment, Derricksen had never given him any encouragement.

Maybe he had his own Kenneth at home. But Cal’s hesitation could have to do with his stature. As much of a powerhouse as Cal Derrickson was, he couldn’t be more than 5’5.” At most. A really hot guy who probably bought his shirts in the boy’s department. That was okay with Mike.

What he intended doing with Cal, did not require height. Or a shirt.

Mike had already decided to ask him out when the job was over. But since the letter, today was the day. For the next few weeks his brother Andrew would come with him so Mike could orient him to the work and Cal. And Nora. Then Mike would be off to the police academy and Drew would take over.

If Mike was going to make a move, it had to be today. And today, he was primed for it.

CALVIN WILCOX DERRICKSEN held the phone to his ear with his right hand and the top of his head on with his left, clutching a handful of wavy dark hair. He paced in front of the floor-to-ceiling window, listening to nonsense.

Outside,  a construction crane set an enormous I-beam delicately in place on the twelfth story of the building next to this one. A twin of  the one he stood in.

“You can’t just drop two more stories on top, Denkler, you know how that changes the dead load? … Tell you what, call a civil engineer and get him to explain it to you. … Yeah, well, he’ll be polite.”

He tossed the phone onto his desk.

Mike Merisi was leaning against the door jamb, grinning at him. Oh, man, what’s the kid done to himself?  He looked older. Harder, somehow. Hotter.

Thankfully, Cal was behind his desk, the top level with his waist. Cal Derricksen’s pants never tightened. They just rubbed the end of his willy. Irritating.

Merisi came off the door and took a couple steps toward him, eyes locked, grin fading. Willy wept.

Cal felt the old familiar tensions—of his stomach, where the anger lay. His throat, where the sadness hid.

“You want to put your shit down over there and bring me the plans?” Cal asked. Terse. He pointed to a conversation area, complete with sofa and chairs. His office was the only finished space in the building. It served as a showpiece for prospective tenants.

Merisi paused and cocked his head, as if considering Cal’s directions. Cal’s heart pounded in his ears. What if he doesn’t do it? What if he … says something?

The accounting consultant Cal called “kid” in his mind, seemed not at all kidlike standing tall and strong and calm. Mike nodded and turned away.

Hurrying out from behind his desk to the drafting table, Cal pulled himself into place on the tall chair. He always did it like this, before a visitor came in or while they were distracted. He hated anyone seeing him clamber up, like a child at the grown-ups table.

Once settled, glasses in place and willy subsided, Cal was ready. At thirty, he was one of the youngest high rise construction managers in the state. This was his domain. His world, his expertise. And if the crushing responsibility sometimes seemed like it would do just that, no one around him could tell.

He cleared papers from the slanted top of the drafting table. “Let’s go”—he glanced over his shoulder—“I…”

Mike Merisi closed the office door and walked toward him.

He wasn’t carrying the tube.

GET SET …

Michael! What are you doing? Whatever the hell I want, for once.

Cal had licked his lips when he saw Mike in the doorway. His face flushed; his eyes got big. He’d shifted his hips behind the desk.

I should have gotten this haircut a long time ago. Mike Merisi might only be twenty-one, but he knew when a guy responded to him. He’d turned his back to close the door, knowing Cal would escape to his drafting table. On the tall chair, he was close to Mike’s height.

No escape, today. Determined, Mike had started across the room and Cal had looked back. Mike fixed his gaze on Cal’s. Held him.

Jesus, I’m making him look at me. He looks turned on and  … scared? Oh, man, that’s hot.

Cal’s lips parted; a pulse throbbed at the side of his neck. Every one of his responses made Mike feel taller. Denser, somehow. His cock wasn’t tingling; he was hard and hot and tight. Mike stopped thinking about what he was doing and went with it.

He halted two steps from Cal who was mesmerized by Mike’s hand pushing under his own waistband. Cal’s eyes followed as Mike adjusted himself, lingering a second for one hard squeeze.

“Oh, God,” Cal breathed. He didn’t look away until Mike took his hand out and placed it flat on the tilted top of the drafting table. He put the other hand on the back of Cal’s chair.

Cal’s eyes darted around, from Mike’s hands, to the door, to the window. Back to the almost vertical ridgeline next to Mike’s zipper. Anywhere but on Mike’s face.

“Look at me, Cal.”

The little man made a high sound in his throat and Mike’s gut clenched and heated. He swivelled the chair Cal perched on, so the site manager faced him.

Cal looked up. And Mike Merisi knew then what Cal wanted. His obedience wouldn’t surprise Mike again. “Are you with anyone?” His voice was hoarse.

Cal shook his head. He wriggled slightly in the chair.

“Hold still.” Mike only had to lean forward to be between Cal’s knees. He stared pointedly at Cal’s crotch.

A small dark spot. “You’re wet for me,” he said. It was what straight guys said to girls, but he knew, somehow, it would excite Cal, who choked on an intake of breath. Yes.

“Nor- Nora might come in,” Cal said.

Mike smirked, still looking between Cal’s legs. “She might. Probably will.” Oddly, he didn’t see a bulge. But the spot was unmistakable. He caught Cal’s eyes again. “I don’t think she’ll stay long.”

“Goddammit it,” Cal said softly, shifting in the chair. Mike’s cock jerked. He reached out to cover Cal’s erection with his palm, to squeeze and knead and-

“No!” Cal shoved back, twistingaway and almost toppled over. “Stop it, leave me a—”

Mike’s tongue obliterated the rest of the word. He held Cal by a fist in his hair, tilting his head back. A light dusting of stubble grazed his fingertips digging in above Cal’s jaw, keeping his mouth open.

But Mike didn’t ravage him; he probed. Tasting, feeling. Finally.

A small hot tongue, tentative, stroked back along Mike’s. He held Cal’s face between his hands, thumbs sliding along lips, tips dipping into the dark, wet warmth.

Cal trembled and moaned and clutched at Mike’s sleeve, pulling instead of  pushing away. For a few seconds. Then he put two hands flat on Mike’s chest and pushed. Hard.

“Time out,” he said. It wasn’t a request.

Mike pulled back, but not away. “Nora went to the printer’s and then to lunch. The door’s locked.” He smiled. “I had planned to say—something—you know. But … you are so goddamned sexy.”

Cal shook his head and blew out a breath. He had his hands over his crotch.

“It can’t just …. happen,” Cal said. “There’re things to discuss.”

“I know. I have stuff in my bag. Condoms.” He didn’t mention the lube or the wipes. “But I couldn’t wait to touch you.” He slid a palm over Cal’s upper arm, well-muscled from years of working around construction sites.

“Conversation,” Cal said firmly, pushing Mike’s hand back toward him. “A lot of conversation. There are things for you to know.”

What would he have to know that took so much talking? Mike considered. Cal was small for a man, but well-proportioned. He couldn’t be …

“Cal, are you trans?”

Cal shook his head, turning the chair away. He moved to his desk, motioning Mike toward the visitor’s chair. “Please.”

Mike complied as thoughts of HIV and genital warts flashed through his mind.

Cal sat with his elbows on the desktop, hands clasped. It felt for all the world like Mike was in front of the teacher’s desk about to be lectured on getting his homework in on time.

“In terms of … endowment,” Cal began. “Nature has shown me little favor.”

Endowment. Little favor?

….. Oh. “Okay. Is there more or is that what I had to know?

Cal blew out a breath. “I don’t think you understand how … unfavored I am.”

“I’ll find out for myself, shortly,” Mike smirked. He cocked his head. “What’s your position on anal?”

Cal started. “I haven’t—I haven’t had much experience.”

“Much?”

“Any.”

“I’ll change that.” Mike’s wilted cock perked up when the flush revisited Cal’s cheeks and his eyes widened. “I was thinking I’d top. You good with that?”

Cal licked his lips. He was good with it. “Now?” His voice was thick. Yes.

Mike stood up. “We’ll see. First”—he moved around the desk behind Cal, put his hands flat on the desktop next to Cal’s elbows, lips brushing his ear—“I’m going to touch you.”

He was rewarded with a low moan. “Stand up, you’re in my seat.”

Mike grabbed the arms of the chair and pulled it slowly back from the desk. Looking down, he saw the tiny wet spot on Cal’s pants had been joined by a short streak. Not a larger spot. A streak. As if his leaking slit was dragged across the inside of his pants.

Very little favor, then.

Cal didn’t stand up. But he didn’t refuse.

THIS WON’T WORK, you know that.

Cal Derricksen fought to regain his equilibrium. His few forays into sexual congress had not ended well. While Cal hadn’t experienced deliberate cruelty since high school, the looks, the embarrassed for him but polite excuses, were somehow worse.

Pity was worse.

And he really liked Mike Merisi. Sweet, smart, shrewd. A hell of a work ethic. He smelled good. He dressed professionally, he usually unbuttoned his collar. It was the notch, the shadow, the faint sprinkle of hair that promised more. His fine hands and dry humor.

“What’s your position on anal?”

Cal wanted to chuckle at the wordplay, but his pain was too acute, knowing it would never happen. And he’d never suspected the streak of dominance. It undid him. Toppled his wall of sensible reserve.  

Damn it. Godfuckingdammit all to hell.

His father says he’s leaving. That’s why he’s doing this. It’s the last time. Get it over with. Make sure you get the schematics and figures before he walks out.

Cal Derricksen stood up.

He felt Mike slide into the seat behind him. His chair was set at maximum height, of course. When Mike spread his legs and rolled the chair up to the back of Cal’s legs, his knees pressed firmly into Cal’s hips on either side.

Strong arms wrapped around his shoulders, warm breath moved over his ear. “Shoes off.” Cal shivered and his insides clenched.

He toed off his loafers, kicking them further into the well of the desk. Mike leaned into him and he felt the expansion of Mike’s chest against his back with every intake of breath.

He feels wonderful. Tears pricked at his eyes at the imminent loss of the strength and comfort of another man’s body against his own.

“Jesus you feel good,” Mike breathed, hands gliding over Cal’s chest and abdomen. He opened Cal’s belt and pants, pulling him closer. Mike’s right hand slid down, over Cal’s plain white jockeys. His left, flat on Cal’s stomach, kept him close—a sweet restraint.

Cal felt a tear track down his face. Mike’s fingers found his three-and-a-quarter inches poking out a stretched leg hole. Felt him, seeking the rest. There was no “rest.” The fingers tightened around him. His willy felt like it would split open. His chest felt empty. Dead.

“Jesus, Cal,” Mike said, a bit of wonder in his low, tight voice.

Here it comes …

“You could etch glass with this thing. Or melt it.”

What?

Then there were only Mike’s hands, sliding under, tearing his pants off, lifting turning. Mike stood and laid Cal on his back on the desk, pushing his thighs apart, staring down between his legs.

“You’re perfect.”

MOVING HIS PALMS over Cal’s strong thighs and onto his abdomen, Mike kept his eyes on the small, succulent prize. The shiny red glans sat on a solid stalk of turgid flesh, a narrow vein snaking along briefly to dive underneath. Cal’s sac was compact and dark red, the mounds of his balls offset. It was all in proportion, framed by a halo of dark curls.

“Perfect,” Mike said again, hands moving to each side, and down, he laid his thumbs on each side of the thickened root. Dear God, what I could do.

Reaching down, he lifted Cal’s legs. “Feet on the edge of the desk.” Cal complied; Mike opened his knees. “Give me your wrists.”

Mike extended his hands along the outsides of Cal’s thighs and manacled each wrist with his fingers and pulled. Cal’s shins pressed into Mike’s biceps, his perfect package lay inches from Mike’s mouth.

“I’m going to suck you off. Right here. Now.” Mike tried to sound controlled, but his urgent need to ravage this man tightened his throat and the words came out a growl.

Cal’s deep brown eyes grew larger. “Why?”

Mike surged up and over, hands over hands, holding them down next to Cal’s head. Body over body, driving him into the surface of the desk. He loomed over the man beneath him and glared fiercely into his face.

“Because I want you more than I ever wanted anyone. Because I’m going to make you feel so good you’ll fight to get away from the pleasure and need to come so bad you’ll feel like you’ll lose your mind if you don’t. And I’ll love the way you’ll struggle and plead. And because you want me to, little man. You want me to, don’t you?”

Cal’s head moved in a bare nod of acquiescence.

“Say it,” Mike snapped.

Cal shuddered and moaned. “I want you to,” Cal whispered, eyes bright with humiliation and need.

For a nanosecond Mike wondered at himself. But he knew with more certainty every second, at every response. Like coming home to a place he hadn’t known he missed. He was the one who gave and withheld, drove and shattered.

He was the one who owned.

“Don’t move.”

Mike undid himself and brought his aching length out into the air. He wrapped both hands around, the head disappearing and squeezed. Wait. Wait until you’re in his mouth. Precum gushed through his fingers at the thought.

Mike knew he could come in a couple strokes at the sight of Cal laid out before him. Legs still drawn up, knees open, shaft tight back in the thatch of hair. Stomach fluttering with each ragged breath in anticipation of Mike’s touch.

And just above the desk edge, a tight pink star beckoned.

“Oh, fuck yeah,” he whispered. He tucked himself inside his boxers, finding a dry spot.

Taking Cal’s wrists firmly in hand, Mike Merisi lowered his head.

GO!

Cal’s three-and-a-quarter inches of stiff, searingle fsh fit completely inside Mike Merisi’s mouth. It startled him and thrilled him—oh, what he would be able to do with his tongue to this straining, fiery stalk.

Mike pressed upward with the rougher back of his tongue and stroked the frenulum and delta, over and over. The cock in his mouth leaked and Cal cried out some garbled version of “Oh my God.”

Jesus, I might come on myself. Sucking off Call was the most incredibly exciting thing Mike had ever done to a man. He’d never had a whole dick in his mouth at once, ever. Kenneth was a log he’d taught himself not to choke on. And while his lover getting off in his mouth was something of a turn-on, there wasn’t much in it for Mike but an aching jaw.

But this … He backed off before he made Cal shoot. Slipping his tongue over the top, he lodged Cal in the soft underflesh.

Cal squirmed, struggling to thrust, but Mike gripped him hard, keeping his legs folded. By changing the angle of his body, Mike completely controlled how much Cal could move hips. And right now, that amount was zero.

Mike scraped the short stalk with his teeth and polished the burning head against the silky, softness under his tongue. Mike tasted the precum that welled up. With a feral cry, Cal’s head jerked back, but Mike’s hold kept his back flat and he shook with the effort to escape the very thing he sought.

Cal Derricksen was a strong man, but Mike Merisi had him locked down.

“Oh.  Fuck.  Oh.  Fuck.” Cal panted so hard Mike feared he’d  hyperventilate. He pulled up, keeping the suction on until the head of Cal’s dick slipped out and rested on his lower lip. He teased the slit with the tip of his tongue. Cal’s every breath a harsh rasp.

“You need to get a grip on yourself, little dude. I’m just getting started.”

“Mike, oh God, Mike, I’m – I’ll come if you do keep doing that.”

“You always come this fast?” He ran his nose along the sides of Cal’s swollen prick, again hidden in the thatch of pubic hair. He inhaled Cal’s  musky scent, felt his hips flex, as if seeking Mike’s mouth, again.

“Well?” Mike asked, the word muffled by flesh and hair and skin and lust.

“No one ever did this to me before. I mean … oh, fu- uh – they…”

“Tell me,” Mike ordered, running his chin up and down Cal’s length, knowing he’d be prickly by now, an erotic rasp.

“Uh … uh … oh God … start … they’d start and … Jesus, please … stop—they’d stop when they saw me.”

That made Mike stop. He’s a fucking virgin. He rested his forehead on Cal’s abdomen, the muscles tight with arousal, rising and falling with each breath. No one’s touched him? Entered him? … The next thought was immediate, primal … mine.

Mike Merisi raked his eyes over the panting, suffering, needing man. A savage need to torment, delight, invade, imprint himself on every one of Cal Derricksen’s raw nerve endings possessed him.

He lifted enough to catch Cal’s eyes, glimmering with his arousal. “Then you’d better think about ice storms, because you don’t come until I let you and I’m about to make up for lost time.”

Cal’s eyes widened with uncertainty and anticipation.

Mike moved down further and sucked lightly on Cal’s ballsack, also smaller than normal, hot and tight.

He stroked the short raphe with the tip of his tongue. Pressing hard, following the seam up and into Cal’s sac, teasing his nuts apart, he sucked each in turn, between his teeth. Trapped, Mike teased his prize with his tongue while Releasing. Repeating.

Cal Derricksen struggled and keened, wept and finally howled.  Mike’s cock jerked hard, flash fire raced along a web of nerves to his hole, to his spine. His fucking toes tingled.

He revelled in the ease with which he could access every bit of Cal’s most closely-guarded shame. Hardening the tip of his tongue, he traveled the short distance down and probed the center of Cal’s hole.

“No – no – that – ah – not – oh … fuckohGod ...”

With every cry and increasingly frantic movement, Mike gloried in his power to make Cal insane with need and desperate for release. This was his domain.

Moving up, he sucked the purple head and rubbed it back and forth between the slick silken inside his lips and the washboard of his front teeth.

Mike dropped his jaw as Kenneth had taught him and took all of Cal into his mouth, cock and balls and a flood of precum.

Mike’s tongue was folded against the curves and ridges in his mouth and he could only move it slightly, but with every press and slide Cal writhed against him, seeming torn between driving deeper or escaping the unbearable pleasure. His whole body trembled, and the table vibrated, and Mike swirled his tongue underneath Cal’s balls and felt the vibrations of his cries through his lips.

The totality of Mike’s control over the movements and feelings of the man under him, drove him to the pinnacle of excitement and depths of lust. He flashed on restraints and spreader bars and his fingers in Cal’s ass as he lay over the desk, clawing at plans and papers …

And with a cry of “Oh, my God,” that sounded more like a sob, Cal went suddenly limp. “Please,” he begged in a whisper. “Oh, please. Mike, I have to, please …”

Please.

Mike came abruptly back from what felt like an altered state. Jesus, it’s his first time.

He repositioned Cal against the roof of his mouth and stroked with his tongue, as he had at the beginning. Relaxing his grip slightly, moving a little, encouraging Cal to pump.

He let go of one wrist and moved Cal’s hand so his fingers clutched at Mike’s hair, allowing Cal more control.

Freeing his own throbbing cock, Mike jacked himself while Cal rocked and wept, chasing his orgasm. Mike held him tightly in his mouth, relishing Cal’s deepest thrusts. He felt every one in his own body, as if Cal’s straining dick plunged into the spreading mass of heat and need about to explode.

Mike tightened his grip on himself in the sticky-slickness of precum, riding the rush to his own orgasm. With a rasping groan, Cal pumped cum down Mike’s welcoming throat. Once – twice – three spurts of warm salty fluid. A surprisingly large amount for so small a package that triggered Mike and all went dim and silent for a few moments as his orgasm overwhelmed him. Hard, so hard. Like the cum was a solid thing rammed through his dick, and his balls would float away from the relief.

He released Cal and sat back, catching his breath. How did he not think to put a wad of tissues in his suit coat pocket?

CAL LAY BONELESS, arms thrown wide, legs over the edge of the desk, his feet on Mike Merisi’s knees. You still have your shirt and tie on. And your socks. One of his hands was lying on the keyboard of his open laptop. He was ready for a porn video.

After the warm wetness of Mike’s mouth, his willy was cold in the office air. Balls, too. … What he did to my balls … Instinctively he wanted to close his legs, cover himself with his hands. He didn’t have the strength. And Mike might not approve.

Cal couldn’t process what had just happened. Feelings he’d never imagined existed. Exhilarating, torturous arousal. Wondrous humiliation. A joyous sense of utter powerlessness. Worked into mindless frenzy and total surrender—to his accounting consultant.

It was all perfect.

Almost. You almost couldn’t come. He’d been so worried he’d come too fast. But when Mike took pity on him, helped him, it was like chasing a ball bearing inside a water balloon. It kept slipping away. This is what you get after a lifetime of wanking willy.

It was when he heard Mike panting, jerking his own shaft, doing inches away what Cal had imagined watching him do so many times, that Cal found his release.

Now what?

As if in answer, two warm hands ran over his thighs. Used him to push on, to stand up. Mike’s face came into view. “Hang on,” he said.

He retrieved Cal’s pants, shook them out and laid them on the table top. Mike leaned over and cocked an eyebrow.

“Glad you liked it, but you have to stand up, now. I have my own pants to deal with.” He grinned.

After Mike got his briefs off and folded up in his pocket and his pants back on—after Cal made himself neat and slipped into his shoes—Mike perched on the edge of the chair.

“I was going to invite you to dinner,” he said.

“What?”

“That was my big bold plan. Last day, just us together. I was going to say let’s have dinner.” He pulled Cal close and draped his forearms over Cal’s shoulders. “But then you gave me that superheated eye-laser thing when I came in and shit, I just had to-” He shook his head.

Cal’s face had gone still. “And what about now? What do you want, now?”

Mike searched Cal’s face. “I want you to tell me you’re okay. You made me crazy. I – maybe got a little carried away.”

Cal felt his face heat. “You were – it was …”

Mike grinned. “Good?” Cal nodded. “Dinner later?”

That’s it? Now we have dinner? “It doesn’t bother you?”

“It’s killing me, I want to fuck you over the desk right now. But we need to have our meeting because Sandusky recommends a parking garage. Fact is, the numbers are in his favor.”

What? “Nonono. We never even considered another structure,” Cal said, looking around. “The numbers say yes? Where’re the figures?”

Mike crossed his arms, pulling Cal close and kissed him. Mouth and tongue and shoulders and whiskers. Cal let go again, his arms went around Mike, and he kissed him back. It was every kiss he’d ever dreamed of, hot and romantic, slow and strong. It was the kiss he thought he’d never receive, never give.

Mike disengaged and smiled. “I’ll get the plans. Meet you back here in a sec”—he stood up—”your chair.” 

“Wait!” Cal said.

Mike hesitated.

“I meant my willy. The way it is. It doesn’t bother you?” Cal’s breath caught as Mike’s eyes went immediately dark. He reached between Cal’s legs and cupped him with firm authority.

Cal groaned, stretching and filling. Again.

Mike took him between his thumb and two fingers, rolling and stroking him through the fabric. “Bother me? Yes, it most certainly bothers me.”

Mike’s voice, again suffused with lust, seemed to stroke Cal along with his fingers.

“It will bother me through the meeting and for the rest of my the day and every minute of our dinner. After which, we’ll come back here. Because the very thought of this”—he gave willy a hard squeeze—“will be bothering me so very much, I’ll bend you over this desk in the dark and you can watch the city lights while I open you and stretch you and slick you. I’ll tease this very bothersome little dick until you beg me to fuck you, and I swear Calvin Derricksen, when I finally let you come, you will scream.”

Cal felt the pulse pounding in neck. “Oh.”

“Nature,” Mike told him, “Did me a hell of a little favor.”



  • Copyright © 2017, 2018 Adira August
  • All rights reserved.
  • This is a work of fiction.
  • Names, characters, places and incidents
  • are either wholly sprung from the author’s
  • imagination or are used fictitiously.

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Thanks for reading — addi