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Lady Luck

Lady Luck

Just when Brett thinks his life will never get any better and can't get worse, it does, and it does
It's ten thirty p.m. I'm staring at an empty e-mail inbox while waiting for the microwave to finish nuking my dinner. The empty inbox is no real shocker, but it is a disappointment because the online personal ad I placed three days ago still has yet to produce even a nibble...whoever the hell said you can find anything on the internet obviously never tried to rustle up a date with anything other than a friggin' porn site....

The whirring stops and the bell dings, signifying that the outer edges of my leftover pizza might actually be warm. I open the door to find my appetite waving “bye-bye” as the thought of re-heated pizza for the fourth meal in a row sets off simultaneous protests from my stomach, taste buds, and the little voice of reason that normally only serves to annoy the shit out of me. Fuck it. I think I’ll go rescue some poor convenience store burrito from spending another long night under a heat lamp.

After the traditional three laps around the house to figure out where the hell I left my keys, I’m finally motoring off to enjoy another late-night dinner on the dash of my Jeep in the hazy neon glow of the Quickie Mart sign….alone…again.

Pulling into the empty lot, I can’t help but feel a ridiculous sense of the entire world conspiring to ensure absolutely zero human contact with me. I really would not be surprised in the least to find a self-checkout machine instead of a live clerk at the register.

Nope. I’m in luck. There appears to be some form of living, breathing, half-stoned hippie tending the place while he waits for his record deal to happen. I nod as I walk through the door and he returns the gesture with an indifferent eyebrow raise.

“Gimme one of those burritos.”

“No problem, man,” his mumbled reply is decipherable more by reading his lips than anything audible.

Back in the Jeep, just as I’m attempting to squeeze enough taco sauce on the burrito to make it edible, I’m rocked side to side to the wonderful tune of plastic and metal crunching loudly. Taco sauce is everywhere and my Big Drink is now a Big Puddle in the seat and floorboard. I check the rearview to see a big, shiny, new SUV has backed away from the gas pump and smashed into my rear bumper. And I thought the night couldn’t get any better. Fuckin’ really?

“What the fuck, Dude?” The words are out of my mouth before I’m even completely out of the Jeep and certainly before I look up to see long, tan legs connected to the sexiest woman I have ever laid eyes on stepping from the Denali. Okay, sexiest I’ve ever laid eyes on might be a stretch cuz I watch a lot of porn, but super-hot is an understatement.

Ever wish you had a rewind or delete button for the stupid shit you just said? Happened to me.

“Uh, I mean….uh…you okay?” That’s it genius, dazzle her with conversation.
She has a horrified look on her face and says something apologetic, but I can’t tell what it is because I am completely mesmerized by her. She’s about five foot six or seven, medium length blonde hair, can’t tell what color her eyes are yet, she’s smiling a nervous, perfect, gorgeous kind of smile that is only found on glossy covers and in heaven (I hope). She is wearing a tight, pink top that shows just enough cleavage to be interesting but not enough to be trashy, designer cut-off shorts that display the afore-mentioned perfectly toned and tanned legs (and although she is facing me, I can tell the most perfectly shaped ass on the planet is back there somewhere). Holy shit!!!

As she walks toward me I am acutely aware that I, in stark contrast to her magnificent glory, haven’t showered since yesterday morning, haven’t bothered with a comb in recent memory, my trusty AC/DC T-shirt is covered in taco sauce and I can feel Coke Zero dripping from the crotch of my oh-so-attractive, ratty-assed, cargo shorts and puddling in my flip flop between my toes, thus producing a nice fart-clap-fart-clap-fart-clap sound as I walk toward her…I mean toward the back of my vehicle to inspect the damage…nah, I mean her.

“Oh my God…are you bleeding?” She is visibly panicked.

“Huh? Uh….no…uhhm,” I’m stalling for time because I don’t really register the reason for the question because I’ve actually almost forgotten there has even been an accident, “ Oh, I mean, no it’s taco sauce. I’m fine. You okay?”

“Yeah I’m good. I’m sorry, I didn’t even see you sitting there.” Yeah, don’t sweat it, I’m used to being invisible lately.

“No its okay…” I finally manage a quick look away from her to check the damage. Good news: her dealer-tag-new ride didn’t even get a scratch. Bad news: my right tail light, the corner of my bumper and the right rear fender are FUCKED UP. Shards of broken red and white plastic are everywhere and there is a long strip of black plastic hanging from the bumper. The fender is jammed into the rear tire and crumpled in a way that I’m sure will never look right again. There is no way I can afford to fix it anyway, and the funny thing is, I couldn’t care less right now.

“I’m Tammy,” she offers her hand.

I manage to smile back, “I’m Brett.”

“Should we call the cops or something?...I really don’t know what to do, I’ve never had an accident before,” she’s still smiling. Green. I’m pretty sure her eyes are green.

“Nah, we can just exchange info…cops won’t do anything in a parking lot anyway. Do you have insurance?”

“Oh, yeah. Just bought it and they won’t let you leave the lot ‘til it’s insured.”

“Cool. I think I have a pen in the Jeep somewhere.”

Unfortunately she follows me back to the Jeep in plenty of time to watch me rummage through dirty gym clothes, fast food wrappers, and miscellaneous credit card and debit receipts to find a pen.

As I offer the pen and the back of a bar receipt she smiles and points at the name on the receipt, “Hey, I go there a lot. Never seen you there before.”

“I’ve been there a few times…not exactly a regular, though.” Truth is, it’s a rare occasion that I can spend six-fifty a beer, so I internally thank Lady Luck for this unexpected nugget of mercy…statistically, the receipt should have either been from Wal-Mart or Taco Bell. By some cosmic slip-up I accidentally handed her the one receipt in the floorboard that was from a hip, trendy, cool kind of place.

“Sorry, I guess this is probably not how you wanted to spend your evening, huh?” She even writes cute. Or is it cutely?...Doesn’t matter, she’s amazing no matter what she’s doing.

“Actually, I was hoping to bump into a gorgeous girl and get her number….guess I shoulda hoped a little more specifically, huh?” Please laugh. Please Laugh. Please laugh.

She laughs. Fuck! Yes! She scrunches her nose and eyes when she laughs and I nearly melt into the Coke Zero puddle.

“Well, my number is on there, feel free to call it,” she smiles a different kind of smile this time. It’s more of an “I-dare-ya” kind of smile.

“I definitely will.”

“Okay. Well, I guess if we’re good I’m gonna go now.” Her words trail off a bit and she fidgets a little awkwardly. I’m not sure if it’s because she desperately wants to get the hell out of here, or because she doesn’t want to leave but there is really no reason to stay. Try as I might, I can’t think of a single thing to prolong the conversation. Fuck! Think of something. Anything. Nope, not gonna happen.

I watch her walk back toward her car and confirm my suspicions about the most perfect ass on the planet. The snug fit of her shorts accentuates every rolling step and I can’t take my eyes away. Definitely calling her. Can’t wait to hear her voice again even if it is just to give her the chance to tell me she’s not interested. Wow. Never thought I’d be glad to be sitting in my fucked up Jeep, covered in taco sauce and Coke Zero….way better than semi-cold pizza and empty e-mail boxes. Fucked up Jeep. Shit! The fender is into the tire. I gotta call someone for a ride. Back to reality. Reality sucks.

I absently reach for the console to grab my phone while watching Tammy step into her car. No phone. Dammit. I didn’t bring it. Just popping out for a burrito. Reality sucks. Long walk home.

“Tammy!!!” the shout is out of my mouth before I even realize I’m calling out to her.

Her head pops out of the driver’s window, and there is that smile again. I trot over to the door and, feeling crazy-awkward, mange to mutter, “Do you have a cell I can borrow? I left mine back at the house and I gotta call someone to give me a lift. The fender is against the tire and I can’t drive it that way. I haven’t tried to pry it out yet but I probably should call someone just in case I can’t. I mean, I hate to bother you, but I’m kinda stuck here. I guess I could use the phone in the store, though. Didn’t really think about that ‘til just now. Sorry, hope I’m not keeping you…”

At some point in there I was somewhat aware that too much explanation was happening, but for some reason I just kept talking and couldn’t stop. You see, some reason is this reason: from the angle I was standing and the way she was leaning, it offered an intoxicating view down the front of her little pink top. Flimsy-thin, satin, zebra patterned bra with pink lace. Erect nipples pushing against the satin. Male brain disengaged while mouth still fully engaged. Lucky it wasn’t a total disaster.

She glances down briefly, then back to me…just to acknowledge that she knows where I’m looking, but she doesn’t move or cover up. “I can give you a ride if you want,” she smiles so sweetly that I’m immediately rendered mute.

I finally manage a super-lame, “Uh….well….yeah, that’d be great!” I’m overwhelmed with this drug-like rush of good luck that is immediately followed by an equally drug-like crash, “Oh, wait….I have Coke and taco sauce all over me… I don’t wanna ruin your seat.”

Tammy rolls her beautiful green eyes and dismisses my concerns for her pricy new Yukon, “Pshhh….don’t worry about it, it’ll wipe right off.”

I immediately circle the front of her car and hop in before she has a chance to change her mind or, more likely, I say something to fuck this up. Fart-clap-fart-clap-fart-clap. Fuckin’ flip-flops.

“Where to?” she asks as I snap the latch on my seatbelt.

“Just go down 5 th ‘til you get to Walker, then about six blocks down.”


I can’t help but steal repeated glances at her firm, toned thighs as we ride along in that awkward, just-met-you-and-don’t-know-what-to-say silence that happens any time you’re in a close environment with a stranger. Her shorts have crept up high and I can tell she is aware of my wandering gaze. With a knowing smile, she subtly lifts her left leg higher than her right, effectively spreading her thighs slightly, almost as if to give me a better view. I feel the warm, tingling sensation as an erection begins to push against the fabric of my ratty-assed cargo shorts.

Content to keep my mouth shut and not mess things up, I just casually enjoy the thigh-view and sweet smell of new leather. The stereo blasts out some pop station just loud enough to make the lack of conversation seem not so awkward. Tracing her body with my eyes, I can’t help this overwhelming desire to touch her perfect skin. Run my hand along her inner thigh. Caress the nape of her neck. Slide my palm across her flat stomach and up to her pert breasts. The erection is throbbing now. I twist in my seat in a failed attempt to reposition it to a more comfortable angle.

Tammy smiles at me again with knowing green eyes and slides her left leg up and down, rubbing her thighs together gently. Teasing me. Dammit, this chick is teasing me. On purpose. So much better than shitty microwave pizza and shittier internet porn. Thank you Lady Luck!!!! I forgive you for a lot of that other shit….you know what I’m talking about.

We pull into the drive and Tammy cuts the engine. She turns toward me and draws her right knee up and kind of hugs it, her foot in the seat. She does it so gracefully and naturally, and I can’t help but think how unnatural it would look for most anyone else…not to mention uncomfortable. Her legs are slightly parted and the position has pulled her shorts tightly against her soft thighs. Throbbing again.

She absently moves her knee left and right in a swaying motion and smiles sweetly at me. “Got anything to drink in there?”

“Absolutely,” I lie. Unless you count hot water and cold water, the only drink options I can think of are the three cans of Natural Light that have been in the fridge since one of my buddies left them there the day I moved in three years ago, about three shots worth of shitty bourbon, and the remote possibility of a half-flat two-liter of something-or-other (Sprite maybe?) on the counter. Ice machine on the fridge is busted and the soda is hot. Fuck. It was a good run, but I knew the luck would dry up sooner or later.

As we walk up the drive to the door, I’m absent-mindedly putting together a shopping list of adult beverages to keep on hand just in case this ever happens again when that little annoying fucking voice of reason begins to remind me of things. Things like the stack of semi-porn (Maxim, FHM, coupla Playboy, etc.) magazines on the coffee table. Things like the dirty work, gym, club clothes strung pretty much from one end of the house to the other. Things like fast food drink cups covering every unused inch of every coffee table and counter top in the house. You know, things that scream, “you just entered the home of a complete FUCKING SLOB,” to any unsuspecting super-hot, way-too-gorgeous-to-talk-to-me female who should happen to accidentally wander in. Yup. Good run. Bet she’s even gonna be cute running back down the driveway to get the hell outta here….

I physically cringe when the door swings open. It’s worse than I remembered. At least the computer is off. Pretty sure my “blondes in thongs” screen saver would have been a little underwhelming for Tammy. As I look around at the dump my life has become, though, I don’t really see how the screen saver coulda made it much worse.

“Sorry, had to fire the cleaning lady,” maybe humor will work.

“How many years ago?” she snickers at me and scrunches her nose and eyes again. So hot. And she’s not bolting for the nice clean Denali….maybe there’s hope.

Cocking one eyebrow in my direction, “I see you’re a reader,” she points at a Playboy that’s conveniently open to the centerfold, with said centerfold completely open and on display. Fuck it. No sense trying to hide the fact I’m a pathetic, perverted slob now….might as well roll with it and see how fast this chick can bail.

“Yeah, that’s Amber. She digs wind surfing, kayaking, wake boarding, and snorkeling…. I’m not much of a swimmer so I told her it would probably never work out….we’re still friends though.”

She giggles. Luck is holding. Maybe she’s into slovenly pervs? It could happen. The voice of reason interjects with some logic-based bullshit dialogue about the most likely scenario being that gorgeous Tammy feels guilty for crashing your car, and that is why she is being so sweet….not because she has any interest in you. Annoying little bastard makes a lot of sense. Hard to argue with logic. Dick.

“Wow, Brett,” Tammy takes a panoramic glance around the room, “you are really a guy kinda guy, huh? Takin’ this bachelor stuff to the limit.” She gives me an evil-cute grin and a quick wink.

“Yeah…I guess my secret is out. In related news, I might have slightly exaggerated the whole drink possibility….unless you’re into shitty beer, or even shittier luke warm mixed drinks, I got nothin’…but, if you will give me ten minutes to shower and change, I’ll take you out for a drink anywhere you choose as long as you drive because some chick smashed my Jeep tonight and I can’t provide transportation.” I know guilting her into saying yes with the whole, “you smashed my Jeep” thing is kind of a douche move but, at this point, it’s all I got.

“Deal. You got ten minutes.”

I swipe a pile of laundry off the couch and into the floor and make a grand gesture to the newly cleared spot, “Have a seat, make yourself at home, and I’ll be out in ten.”

As I walk through the door to the bedroom, I hear the p-tshhh of a Natty Light can opening and my heart literally skips a beat. A girl that looks like that and doesn’t mind the occasional cheap, shitty beer? Too good to be true doesn’t quite sum up the sentiment I’m feeling. Dear Lady Luck, if this is another one of your cruel jokes and I find out she has a penis or one of those monkey tails or something I will break mirrors, spill salt, walk under ladders, and relentlessly fuck with black cats thirteen times a day, every day, for the rest of my life…. just to fuck with you.

Toweling off, I hear the bedroom door slowly swing open. “Ten minutes is up,” she says from the door.

It’s been maybe four. “That’s a quick ten,” I shout back through the bathroom door.

“I’m an impatient girl when I’m thirsty,” she teases.

I wrap the towel around my waist, take a cursory glance in the mirror, quickly rake my fingers through my hair, then practically jump through the bathroom door to make damned sure she’s not really about to try to leave. I’ve never considered abduction before, but it’s crossing my mind now. I’m addicted to her already and she’s to blame for being so perfect…it’s all her fault officer…arrest her.

She’s leaning in the bedroom doorway and appears completely at ease as she slowly samples a sip of three year old, canned beer that was horrible the day it was sold. Smiling at me.

“You clean up pretty well, sir,” her voice has a soothing, dusky tone as its now her eyes wandering up and down my body. Weird role reversal kind of vibe for me. I’m usually more of the ogle-er, not the ogle-ee.

“Thank you. Seriously, two minutes to throw on some jeans and I’ll be ready to roll.”

She takes a step, then another toward me. “Don’t bother. I changed my mind. Not in the mood to go out any more.” By the time she finishes her sentence we are six inches apart. I can feel her breath against my bare chest. This is happening. Holy fuck this is happening.

I lean forward until we are eye to eye, noses almost touching. Definitely the most tantalizing green eyes I have ever gazed into. Okay, the only green eyes I’ve ever gazed into from this proximity. I didn’t even know I like green eyes. Well, I do now. She is no longer smiling. Warm, sensual tension fills us both. I can see it in her expression. I can tell she wants to be kissed. Needs to be kissed. Inwardly, I smile an evil-wicked smile. Now I have you in my comfort zone.

Small talk, ice breaking, all the little social nuances of getting to know someone. I’m horrible. Got no game. Zero. Zilch. Nada. Might as well be Invisible. But this part…once the desire is there…this I’m extremely good at. Creating, sustaining , and satiating that achy, burning, tingling, needful desire is where I excel. Anyone can physically make love to a woman. My specialty, my skill…. is in taking them on a psychological and emotional roller coaster through every crack and crevice of their psyche….you know, mind-fucking them.

I stare into Tammy’s eyes for a very long, exaggerated moment. Our breath palpable on one anothers’ lips. Close enough that the warmth of our skin radiates through the short air gap between us. She’s waiting to be kissed. Her lower lip quivers slightly. Still I wait. Wait for her to come to me. Wait for the tension to build beyond her control.

Tammy reaches up with her left hand and gently caresses my skin from just above the navel, up to my chest and back down again, very slowly. Abdominal and pectoral muscles involuntarily clench and ripple under her fingertips as they send hot, tingling electricity through sensitive nerve endings. She’s trying to coax me into kissing her. I can play that way.

I reach out and slide my hand slowly between her hair and jaw. My fingers don’t contact her skin until they reach the nape of her neck, where they begin soft, subtle circles…slowly massaging along her hair line. I see her entire body tense, then relax in a quick shiver of excitement. She tilts her head back and raises slightly on her toes, closing the distance between our lips to almost nothing. Begging to feel my lips against hers. I pull back ever so slightly, almost indistinguishable. Almost. Both lips tremble until she gently bites the lower one to make it stop. My fingers work their way to just behind her ear, my palm cupping the angle of her jaw. Involuntarily, her thighs shift forward and back, rubbing against one another, trying to quell the throbbing ache that is growing more difficult for her to ignore.

Her eyes are beginning to fill. Moisture collects at the corners. I’m quite certain moisture is collecting further down as well. My fingers slide down her neck to her collar bone, linger slightly, then follow the cut of her little pink top along the upper half of her left breast. Her entire body shudders momentarily before she lunges forward, pressing her lips to mine and letting out a heavy gasp as I take her in my arms and press the rest of her body to mine. Her lips part slightly and allow my tongue to explore hers. Soft. Warm. Wet. The coppery taste of passion fills our mouths as capillaries fill to the bursting point. Warm, liquid desire courses through our bodies and into our loins as endorphins flood our brains and the fire of new passion explodes within every fiber of our nervous system. The smell of her perfume mingles with that of my cheap, bottom shelf body wash to create a clean, sweet, musky scent.

I slide my hands down her back and cup her round buttocks and begin to gently grind her hips into me. This move is more for me than for her. I can no longer ignore the unrelenting need to feel her pressed against my fully erect, throbbing cock. She parts her thighs slightly and I can feel the sharp edge of the zipper in her shorts dig into my leg as she grinds the rough denim along my skin. I can feel the damp heat from between her legs through the course fabric. Her breath is coming in slow, forceful gasps as our tongues explore one another more forcefully.

I bring my hands up from her firm ass and catch the hem of her little pink top on the way up. She offers no resistance as she raises her arms just long enough for me to slide the garment over her head and discard it into a heap on the floor. Satin, zebra print bra with pink lace. Erect to the point of hurting nipples push through the flimsy material, begging for touch. For friction. I place my palm over her left breast and begin to move in slow, almost imperceptible circles. The rock hard nipple tracing lazy patterns against my palm. Tammy leans forward in an attempt to feel more pressure against her breast but I pull away and continue the almost undetectable friction against her aching nipple. You have to really want it sweetheart. Not yet. Has to be the right moment. My right hand continues to tease her left breast and she pushes forward again. I pull back again. Not yet. Not Quite. Her hips grind harder against my leg and a garbled, slightly frustrated moan escapes her lips. I kiss her more deeply, pushing my tongue into her mouth very forcefully. Firmly pulling her body to mine, my rock hard erection presses through the towel against her flat stomach.

A more pronounced gasp of frustration blasts from her lungs and against my lips. I feel her left hand grasp my right and urgently press hard into her breast while leaning forward to amplify the pressure. Ok. Now. My left hand slides up her back, past her neck and finally I grasp a thick fist full of her golden hair and gently, but forcefully pull her head back. At the same time, with my right hand, I roughly close my fist around her sexy, satin, zebra print bra with the pink lace and pull downward. Hard. Dainty straps break and the bra is now a belt hanging loosely around her waist. My hand finds her breast again and I firmly squeeze and roll her nipple between two fingers until I hear her squeak out a sob of pain and ecstasy.

I pull back a little harder with my left hand, separating her lips from mine. Without taking time to catch my breath I clamp my mouth around her right nipple and gently bite the hard, aching tissue.

“Ohhh…..fuuuhhhcck…fuccck…fuck…Jeezus ….fuck,” she punctuates each word with a squeaky, chirping gasp.

I can no longer wait. I know she’s wet. Hell, her shorts are wet. My leg is wet. I know she’s wet. But I have to feel it. Touch it. Taste it. I slide my hand down from her breast and along the cut edge of her shorts. Her entire body trembles as my finger stroke the tender flesh of her inner thigh. I slip two fingers inside her shorts and find no panties. My fingers are immediately engulfed by her slit. I slide them slowly along the slippery crease, up and down, up and down. An audible squish, squish, squish can be heard between her soft coos and of pleasure.

Soon my fingers begin to focus on her swollen clit. First gentle, slow circles. Gradually increasing speed and pressure, then alternating between hard, fast circles and slow, gentle stroking. She seems to like the hard pressure and medium speed the best so I settle on that. Mainly because I want badly to see her cum. I know it’s close. I can see it on her face. I can feel it in her contracting slit…the wetness soaking her shorts.

She abruptly grabs my hand to stop me. Through slightly labored pants she whispers, “I don’t want to cum yet…I want to cum with you inside me.”

I smile at her, gently remove her hand from mine, and whisper back, “Don’t worry Doll, you will…but first I want to see you cum for me like this.”

Without waiting for her permission, I return to hard, medium speed circles on her throbbing little clit. I tighten my grip in her hair and lean up to whisper in her ear, “ Do you feel that?...That warm, bubbly, tingly feeling welling up in your tummy?....Feel that orgasm building?”

“Yes,” she whimpers, “yes….I feel it…please put your cock in me… I wanna cum on your cock.”

“You will sweetheart…just not yet…you’re going to cum on my fingers first….then on my tongue…then on my cock”

“Hmmmuuuoooohh…I want your cock now..” She is biting her lip and squeezing her thighs together in an attempt to stall her imminent climax.

“Be patient…feel that tingle in your slit? I can feel you clenching….I can feel you getting wetter…I’m going to make you cum so let it go…feel it build up and then just let it go….that’s it….your thighs are quivering…you can’t stop it now…I’m going to make you melt into my hand…”

Tammy’s thighs begin to tremble, her beautiful green eyes roll back and I can feel her sliding into sweet climax. Hot, fluid pleasure engulfs her and I narcissistically control the intensity by adjusting the speed and pressure on her hyper-sensitive clit. She doesn’t make much noise. At the very beginning of her orgasm, there is a strained, “Uuuhhhmmmph….” It’s a chirping kind of gasp that I have no way in hell of spelling. It is very abbreviated and suddenly cut off by a full body spasm that stops all sound from escaping her. One spasm after another grips, then releases every muscle in her body, separated by three or four quick breaths then another body wrenching contraction. Her entire body is now trembling uncontrollably, partly from pleasure but partly from the intense spasms fatiguing every muscle group to exhaustion.

I quickly slide her out of the sopping wet cut-offs and lead her to the bed. She is still trying to catch her breath when I begin to raise her long, tan legs to my shoulders.

“That…was…amazing. Just give me a sec….auuugghhh…ohhh fucking fuck….” Just as she is trying to ask for a little recovery time, I push her legs back until it’s slightly uncomfortable, slide two fingers just inside her swollen little pussy, and press against the front wall of her soft, pink opening (this is where the G-spot is for all of you who haven’t found it yet, you’re welcome). Slowly I begin to caress her engorged clit with my tongue. Tammy instantly falls hopelessly back into full orgasm. I can literally watch the relentless waves of pleasure wash over her to the point of being unbearable before ebbing back, then washing over again. I hold her legs back forcefully with my left arm to prevent her from escaping the excruciatingly intense sensations exploding through her tightly clenched, spasming pussy. While still massaging her G-spot with my right and slowly tonguing her clit, I can feel her thighs shiver with each convulsion. Her expression is both one of pure ecstasy and nervous anticipation as I work this gorgeous woman like my own personal finger puppet. Did I mention my narcissism?

Her musky scent and the taste of her orgasmic juices are intoxicating. If not for my own unbearable need to have my cock inside Tammy, I could spend hours lazily flicking my tongue through her soft, pink cooze. Tasting orgasm after orgasm until she could take no more…well, another day.

I can no longer tolerate the aching throb under my towel. Her tight little pussy clenching my fingers over and over has put me at the brink of my own orgasm and I haven’t even dropped the towel yet.

Just as Tammy is in the final throes of her second orgasm, I pull back, let the towel drop to the floor, and enter her fully almost in one single motion. My cock slides easily into her sopping wet pussy, the only resistance being from the sheer tightness created every time her body begins to spasm.

I push my cock all the way inside her and hold it there, grinding against the front wall of her canal and pressing hard on her clit. Making her feel the full length and thickness of me. The total rigidity of the erection she has given me.

“You still want to cum on my cock, sweetheart?” I whisper in her ear. Fuck, she better hurry because with every squeeze of her internal muscles I am getting closer and closer to losing control. She would be exceptionally tight if she wasn’t squeezing, but the contractions are almost too much to bear…like silk-gloved hand gently squeezing your cock until it almost hurts, then doing it again, and again.

“Ohhhh, fuck yes…” she has an animalistic expression, her eyes glazed, almost intoxicated looking.

“You feel how hard I am inside you?...Feel me taking you?”

“Yes…fuck yes…I feel it” her legs part a little further and her hips rotated to allow me still deeper into her. The throbbing head of my cock is now firmly pushing against her cervix and in her facial expression, with each thrust I can see shockwaves of pleasure mixed with slight, shooting pain. Her jaw quivers and her eyes are tearing up. She rolls her hips to grind hungrily against my cock. I’m vaguely aware of a soft, squishing sound accompanied by a pained whimper every time I reach the full depth of her.

“I want you to grind into that hard cock,” I whisper softly to her “….use that cock….masturbate with it….just fuck it ‘til you get off…let yourself be a filthy little slut and cum hard…all over my cock….can you do it?”

“Ohhh fuck yes….” She’s gasping uncontrollably. She’s going to cum again very soon and I want to shoot in her at the same instant she begins to spasm.

“Yes what?,” I coax.

“Yes I want to use your cock to get off….I’m a dirty fucking little slut…aoooaaaahhh…”

Tammy begins to spasm just as the euphoric grip of orgasm bursts through me like a lightning strike and hot, molten excitement boils from every nerve in my body. My cock flexes hard while her pussy clenches in an orgasmic spasm. The tightness is unbearable and deep inside Tammy thick, warm streams of spunk fill her little pussy until it begins to gush out from around my still flexing shaft, run down her inner thigh and puddle on the sheets under her still grinding ass.

We remain tightly wrapped in one another’s grasp for several minutes as the final shivers, quakes and trembles give way to relaxed, utopic, bliss. Finally, I roll away and lay staring at the ceiling of my bedroom wondering when was the last time I was this utterly content. Never. It’s been at least never ago.

Finally, Tammy pops up and declares she has to go. I offer to let her stay the night, but she declines.

“I gotta work early and I don’t have anything to wear to work.”

“Well, can I see you again? Like, soon? I know there’s supposed to be some bullshit waiting period between hooking up and calling you but I’m really not into that bullshit. I really dig you and I want to hang out with you soon. Like now would be good,” I smile a kind of desperate but cute puppy-dog smile at her….at least that’s what I’m shooting for, probably just comes off as mostly desperate.

“Gimme your e-mail and I’ll message you as soon as I get to work. We can figure out a date from there,” she smiles sweetly as she’s pulling her top back on. Then, looking at her demolished zebra bra and tossing it to me, giggling, “You can keep this for collateral.”

“K. But if I don’t hear from ya by noon, the fuckin’ zebra gets it….I’m not playin’ around.”

“Deal,” she winks that knowing wink and scrunches her nose and eyes again.


The alarm goes off and for a second I wonder if it’s all been real. Then I see the zebra bra laying on the night table. Fuck. Yes!!! She wasn’t just a wonderful wet dream!!! I look at the alarm clock. Oh shit! Ten a.m.

I jump outta bed and crash ass-first into the folding chair that serves as an office chair (goes nicely with the four cinder blocks and a plank that serve as a desk and the living room corner that serves as an office).

Fuckin’ slow internet connection. While waiting for the connection to happen, my gaze falls to a pile of dirty laundry by the front door. It’s not so much the laundry that catches my attention, but the scrap of yellow paper on top. The same scrap I wrote my e-mail address on a few hours ago. My heart falls listlessly into my stomach. Maybe she memorized it. It’s pretty simple to remember. Please let there be a message. Please.

My e-mail finally pops open and the inbox is not empty!! The icon shows three new messages!!! I anxiously click the inbox button to see what Tammy has sent me and find three spankin’ new messages. All from chicks responding to my personal ad. Nothing from Tammy. Fuck.

Maybe she accidentally dropped the e-mail on the way out. Right. Even if she was gonna ditch it, wouldn’t she have the courtesy to at least do it somewhere other than my house? Of course she would. Thank you and good point, voice of reason…maybe you’re not such a fuckin’ dick after all.

I bolt out of the “office chair” and trot to my bathroom where I find the ratty-assed cargo shorts made even rattier by a nice Coke Zero stain in the crotch. Dig though the pockets until I finally find the bar receipt with her number on the back. I’ll just call her and see what’s going on. I’m sure she’s been freaking out all morning, tearing through her purse looking for the lost scrap of paper. Surely.

I dial the number and as it begins to ring, the anticipation of hearing her voice again is almost unbearable. Time between rings seems to stop and I would swear in court that there are at least five minutes between rings.

Finally a female voice answers. Not Tammy’s voice. Not Tammy’s roommate. Not Tammy’s sister or even Tammy’s mom. I know because the voice on the other end of the line half-heartedly answers with a very lackluster and canned, “Dairy Queen, how can we make you smile today?”

There is a pause for the truth to set in before I half-heartedly respond, “Shoot me,” and press the end button. I sit for a long minute (might have been thirty, Idunno) just staring at the cell phone in my hand. Reality sucks.

Lady Luck… You. Are. A. Cunt.

Oh, and voice of reason….fuck you, too.

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