May Summerhayse (under another name) is a writer, editor, story analyst and television producer. She spends most of her time raising two children, reading books and manuscripts to see if they can spawn a movie, and relentlessly tracking down interview subjects for TV documentaries, often of questionable taste. This is her first published piece of erotic fiction, which she writes with unbridled abandon in the privacy of her own home.
E-mail May Summerhayse.
It starts with such a mundane errand. Milk. You are out of milk, that last bit at the bottom of the carton has gone sour and you're dying for a latte, having just splurged on a cappuccino maker as a form of personal protest against Starbucks.
It's a lazy Sunday morning. I volunteer to go to the market with you. "Give me a second and I'll get dressed," I say.
You grin. "Why bother" you say, "just go like that."
I am naked.
"Okay." I say, and I walk to the door, open it and am half way to the car when you run out behind me. "Hey, I was kidding."
I keep walking.
"Here, at least wear my jacket," you say, thrusting it at me. You are such a cautious boy. I slip into it. It just reaches the bottom of my ass. When we get to the car I stop, smack my forehead as if I've just realized something important and say, "What am I thinking, they'll never let me in like this!" You give me an I-knew-you-wouldn't-really-do-it smirk.
I dash back inside and you watch the twin arcs of my ass twitch into view as I run. You feel your cock stiffen.
When I come out a few minutes later you are surprised that I am still wearing nothing but your jacket. You notice a hint of my dark bush peeking from between my legs with each step. You give me a quizzical look and I point to my feet. "Shoes," I say.
Rolling your eyes, adjusting your jeans, we get into the car. It's a short drive, six blocks. This is LA after all. You pull into a parking space, "Wait here," you say, "I'll just be a minute." You leap out of the car, quickly locking it behind you and hurry toward the store as if there was a chance I might really stay put. You hear a sound that doesn't surprise you. The click of the car door opening, the metallic smack as it shuts. And then I am at your side.
"Whipped cream," I say, "I have a sudden craving for it, the bad kind, the kind that comes out of a can." You look at me. "But it's nine in the morning," you say. I grin.
"Yes, but I'm hungry and I think you'd taste really good covered in it. " I walk ahead of you into the store.
The whipped cream is on a high shelf, as I reach for it your jacket rises like a window shade to reveal my ripe round ass right there in the middle of aisle three. You hear footsteps behind us.
"I'll get it," you say, snatching it off the shelf and handing it to me. "Spoil sport," I say as a woman wearing nothing but tights and a tank top strides past. "See," I say, "I'm not the only one."
"She's not naked," you say. I glance at her. She is looking back. Our eyes meet for an instant as she disappears into the next aisle. I catch the edge of her smile.
"Might as well be."
We head for the refrigerated section at the back of the store. I notice a wide doorway leading into a cavernous storeroom. It is dim, cardboard boxes are stacked to the ceiling, the concrete floor is littered with scraps of paper, expired coupons, cigarette butts.
"Damn," I say, "I have to pee. You think there is a bathroom back there?"
"No," you lie, then, "Can't you wait, we'll be back at my house in a minute."
But I'm already through the door. You hurry after me. "I don't think you're supposed to take merchandise back there," you say. But I'm not paying attention, I'm asking a tall, gangly boy in a red apron where the bathroom is. He glances at the whipped cream in my hand and just points. You have the feeling he'd have a hard time finding his voice at that moment. You watch him watching my ass as I head for the door he indicated. "Are you coming?" I say. You give up and trot after me.
As I go inside you say, "I'll just wait here," but I already have a hold of your wrist and I am pulling you in after me. Closing the door I twist the little lock in the center of the knob. It spins freely, broken. You begin to sweat.
It's a tiny room, there is a small porcelain sink opposite a wall lined with open shelves full of cleaning supplies. Several brooms and a mop lean against the wall in the corner. The only light comes from a lamp on one of the shelves. Someone must have brought it from home. The surprisingly expensive looking shade is made of red and yellow silk and the light it casts is strangely erotic.
It's hot in that small room. I take off your jacket and hang it on the mop. Laughing I grab a broom, straddling it so that half its long, thick handle protrudes from between my legs.
"Look," I say, "I'm you." The broom feels good, and I slide along it, letting it caress my dampening pussy, then put it back where I found it.
"I'm hungry," I say. I unbutton your jeans, your cock springs into my hand, erect in spite of your nervousness, and I fall to my knees and begin to suck. You lean forward slightly but you're not quite with me, you're still listening for footsteps.
I lick your shaft, my tongue wet and flat. I stroke it up and down, flicking its pulsing head, teasing it, wrapping around it like a snake as I pull you into my mouth.
With a tug, I yank your jeans down, grab your ass and suck you in further still, while with a damp finger I caress the crack in your ass. In response you thrust your engorged prick even deeper down my throat. You aren't listening for footsteps anymore.
I reach for the whipped cream, but you take it out of my hand. You push me roughly onto the sink, spread my legs and spray. I am covered in white foam. Then on your knees you begin to lick, first my inner thighs, your tongue swirls sending waves of intense desire into my cunt. I am having a hard time breathing. I take your head and push it into my pussy and I close my legs around you. You can't hear anything but your own heartbeat pounding in your ears. You jab your tongue up my cunt so far I gasp, your unshaven chin scrapes my swollen clit.
You've taken charge, you've turned the tables. You stand and flip me around so that I am facing myself in the hazy mirror, you bend me over the rust stained sink. You ready your rock hard cock and jam it up my tight rosebud ass so fast that I can't breathe, it hurts but oh it feels so good. I reach back and grab your hair, pulling it, bending further forward so you can fuck me harder.
And then the door opens and a voice says, "Oh my." A woman's voice. "Close the door," you growl. She does. Behind her. She is inside the room, watching. You hear a bolt slide home.
"There is a lock, you know," she says. She has a good voice, throaty, lusty, there is a laugh running just beneath it, and then she says, "Mind if I join you?"
It's a rhetorical question, because in the next instant you feel her tongue up your ass and her hands rising between your legs, sliding along your inner thighs to your balls which are slapping hard against my open cunt, and then her fingers slide inside me, her thumb playing my clit, while your rigid cock pounds up my ass. You pull in and out and for an instant your full length is exposed and you hear her gasp. It unleashes something fierce inside you. You turn and in a single motion rip her tights to her knees, realizing as you do that it is the woman who passed us in aisle three. Her legs are open, you drive your cock deep into her, splitting her wet flesh.
She is still wearing her tank top, she raises her arms and I pull it off, her tits are full and ripe, her dark nipples erect. I glide my fingers into my own cunt to lubricate them, then jam them up her ass with such force that she rams into you, writhing, her cunt impaled on your shaft, her tits crushed against your chest.
Being a kind and thankful boy, your hand shoots down and is in my pussy in a flash, you pump me hard, fingering my clit, your little finger finds my ass, slips inside and you have my entire sex in your palm, wet, hot, it burns your flesh. In that instant you pull out of her and again plunge your cock into me.
She drops to her knees, her tongue flicks at your balls dangling, tantalizing, between your legs. Your prick quivers inside me. I pull back and you spring free. I turn to her, "We haven't tasted you yet," I say. With a grin she spreads her legs wider.
On my knees I shove my tongue up her pussy, I taste her, I taste you, as you lick her ass, your tongue corkscrewing into her tight hole. Lying over my shoulder, her abundant tits tumble down my back, I feel myself go wetter.
The time has come, but not like this. You say, "I have enough for both of you."
You lift her onto the sink and pull her tights all the way off. She tilts her hips forward, her cunt opens to swallow you, you ram your cock into her parted lips. As you fuck her I stand behind you, slapping your ass as hard as I can, first one cheek and then the other, the sound reverberates in the tiny room, filling the heat and the smell with sound. Her legs shoot straight out as if she were tied spread eagle, you have unlocked her completely.
And then you feel her tremble at the core, she is going to come, so you cup her tits in your palms and take her nipples between your thumb and forefinger, twisting them with no thought of letting go. I slap your ass with all my might, catapulting you deeper up her cunt and she is coming, head back, she moans, thrashing into you with such rhythmic force that you almost come yourself, but no, not yet.
Your eyes are bright, you are panting, sweating, drenched. You turn to me, me, who came to the market naked, because you dared me, you, it was your idea from the start.
You grab me by the hair and slam me into the wall and with one hand swiftly part my legs, your cock rocketing into me, a jackhammer, a madman, you fuck me so hard I rise off my feet.
Smiling, she watches, this is just you and me and she knows it.
She sees your white hot ass flex as you thrust like lightening ripping into my pussy, melting my flesh into pure sensation. You arch your back, your hips holding me aloft as you pinch my nipples. The sting is sweet, it darts between my legs. I look down. At the sight of your massive prick storming my crimson cunt, the safety clicks off, the hammer cocks, I am going to come. Steam arises from the friction of wet flesh against flesh, everything disappears in a dense fog of fucking. Your balls tighten and you explode. The room goes red, I am coming in my whole body, my hair is coming, my eyes and my blood and my bones and my fingers and my tits and my pussy and my ass and me, all of me, look, watch, see me come. I see you.
She is already dressed as you and I rise from where we sank to the floor, spent. She smiles at us, then reaches over and flicks a switch on the wall and a single bare bulb hanging from the ceiling goes on. It is a stark light, so different from the warm erotic glow of the lamp on the shelf, which she now unplugs and puts into her bag. With a grin and a throaty chuckle she unbolts the door and is gone. You lock it behind her.
"Wow," you say, "She stole that lamp." I just smile.
I watch you dress. I love to watch your jeans glide up your long legs, I love to watch them swallow your balls, I love to watch you tuck your cock inside.
"Wow," you say again. "I've never had sex with a stranger before."
I slip into your jacket, and as I unlock the door you think you hear, "Who said she was a stranger?"
"What did you say?" You ask, but I'm already back in the market, reaching for the milk.
And you start wondering. What exactly did I do when I went back into your house for my shoes? Whose phone would ring if you picked up your receiver and hit redial?
© 2002 May Sumerhayse. All rights reserved. Do not copy or post.
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