by Amy Brent
Tucker was sitting in front of her, his face level with her breasts. “You feel her, Truman?” he asked the younger man above them both. “Do you feel how soft she’s becoming? How relaxed she is? Now, this is where you tell her she’s beautiful.”
She could sense Truman’s hesitation, but she felt him lean down and say, into her ear, “You’re beautiful.”
“No, no—” Tucker rose up. “Like this.” He tilted her chin up so that she was looking him in the eyes, put one hand on her shoulder, and whispered, “You are beautiful.”
And something about the way he thrummed her collarbone with his thumb the moment he said those words made her wet and unleashed a tide of horniness inside her—a need that she couldn’t not fill, an urge so basic and so primal she could only express it with a groan.
“Hush now,” Tucker whispered, and he pulled her legs up.
He can see me now, she thought. He can see me now and I’m hoping that he likes me—
The dress had buttons all down the front—she normally did only half of them, because it was annoying and time-consuming—but now Tucker was slowly unbuttoning all of the buttons, and her dress was falling open, one button at a time. “Oh, this is so cute,” Tucker murmured—she was wearing plain white underwear, more functional than anything else.
“I didn’t know this would be happenin’ today,” she whispered, as he peeled apart the dress and helped her out of it. At least it’s a matching set, she thought, though at this point she didn’t think that it actually mattered. The guys were all looking at her as if they’d been hypnotized. The cool air on her skin gave her goosebumps.
“Well, I can’t say I mind,” Tucker said, kissing her. “Pretty sure these guys don’t mind, either. As we say, it ain’t about how how it’s wrapped.”
Suddenly the confinement of her bra was no longer there, just the cold of the diner washing over her breasts as Keller undid her bra. And her pussy, still wet and hot, was kissed by the cold as her panties vanished, along with her socks. Kellan was at her feet, looking slightly embarrassed as he gathered her clothes into a pile.
“Go on, Kel,” Tucker said. “You got first dibs. Eatin’ pussy is more your thing anyway.”
“I though it’d be nice to let Truman have her first,” said Kellan, his voice hoarse. “God knows he’s ready for it,” he added, with a wry laugh.
“I’m all right,” Truman said, sounding anything but.
“A boy’s gotta learn,” Tucker agreed. “Get down here, kid.”
Truman climbed down and exchanged place with Kellan, who knelt on the table and took a breast in each hand. Her nipples were already taut in the cold, but when he began to squeeze them, she felt a ripple of electricity run down her spine, pleasure lighting a glowing heat in her core and soaking her pussy—
“Touch,” Tucker was saying, now. “Gently, now—”
And Truman found the little bud of flesh with the tip of his finger and the shudder that ran through her when he did felt strong enough to rip her apart. Thank God Kellan was holding her, because she might have flown apart had it not been for his thick, muscular arms engulfing her. “Let yourself go,” he whispered in her ear. “I’ll keep you safe.”
“Kiss,” Tucker whispered, “Don’t suck, don’t chew—love her, because she’ll love you back.
And Kellan, in the meantime, kissed her—he tasted of the menthol in his cigarettes, which she always thought she’d mind more than she did, but right now, all she could feel was a cool chill going through her and she liked that chill and she liked……
Truman kissed her, too, lapping at the gush of wetness on her thighs, his lips twisting at the folds of flesh there. Her body felt like it was riding on waves of pleasure, and every time the waves broke and crashed she got catapulted higher and higher. “I can’t—I can’t—” she heard herself gasping—how could she contain herself? How was it possible that she wasn’t bursting with this insane ecstasy?
“You can,” Tucker whispered, and he reached around her and, his hand slick with her own wetness, slid a finger in and out of her ass. “Let yourself go,” whispered Kellan, “let yourself feel everything.”
Tears began to stream out of her eyes as she tried and tried to let her mind go, but she couldn’t. It was agonizing, being just on the edge of what she knew would be an explosion of pleasure, but not being able to get there. She wanted to please them, too—but Tucker just held her chin and nodded at her, his eyes wide: Just breathe.
“You too,” he said, and she wondered what he meant but then she felt another hand, two fingers, sliding in and out of her pussy. There was a sharp, burning pain, sore but delightfully so, as he stretched her and she found that she could anticipate the tips of his fingers touching her there but his fingers weren’t long enough.
“More,” Tucker said, and if two fingers was mildly painful then three fingers was a delicious kind of agony. She cried out, bringing even Kellan, who was sucking on her tits, to a pause. “Go on,” Tucker said. The waves of pleasure that were coursing through her bled into the pain, and she felt her back arch and spasm as Truman slid his entire hand inside her, and it gave her a little kick of triumph when she realized what she’d done, and how incredible it felt—and the Truman pulled his hand back out, leaving her gasping and longing for something to fill her up.
Suddenly there was something else going up her ass—and she realized it was Kellan’s cock, because he was groaning in her ear, breathing on her neck—it felt uncomfortably large going in but when he began thrusting the slow, back-and-forth motions stirred up a deep longing inside her. She groaned and cried and moaned—
And then Truman—she’d thought his hand was large and it was but his cock felt glorious inside her, reaching parts of her she didn’t know about, revealing with every pulse and thrust of his hips a whole different facet of pleasure, once wild and crazy, once soft and tender, once hard, once tender—and then there was Kellan, whose slow steady thrusts began opening something wonderful and light inside her, and Tucker, who was kissing her nipples and fondling her breasts—it was all building up inside her and all of it was glowing and hot but she couldn’t quite let go just yet—not just yet—
And then Tucker’s fingers grazed the tip of her clit and she screamed. All the heat and light that had been building up inside her ever since they started, all the anticipation that she’d been slowly working up to over the past year, all of the things she’d seen and everything she’d been tempted to do—all of it came together in a beautiful moment of spellbinding ecstasy. She screamed, she cried—but it wasn’t her that was doing it—she was far away, released from her body, on another plane that she didn’t even know was possible.
Easy there, take it easy—but she couldn’t. She wanted everything now—she felt her body open and drink it all in, letting Truman and Kellan explore her and Tucker taste her—she finally understood that this was what she wanted: everything.
She was lying naked against Kellan, who was playing with her right nipple, with her legs apart, while Tucker thoughtfully toyed with her pussy. They’d moved to the floor—Truman, as his reward for a service well-rendered, had been sent out to the truck to bring in their sleeping bags, and now he lay apart, watching the two of them fondling her, touching her, keeping the embers warm, so to speak. They weren’t really doing anything sexual, just enjoying the touch of and being touched by each other. The contrast between the warmth from their bodies and the cold of the air was an oddly pleasant one. Her body felt newly reborn—every touch left a wake of electric tingles on her skin, and her pussy and ass felt pleasantly achy. She wasn’t ready to start walking around any time soon, but it wasn’t like they’d torn her or anything.
“That was nice, wasn’t it?” said Tucker, finally.
“It was,” she agreed. She didn’t remember it ending—all she knew was that when she came to again she was on the floor, her body partially wrapped up in their jackets, with Truman sucking gently on her nipples as Kellan murmured words of approval.
“So am I just a teaching tool?” she’d asked, grinning at how flustered they were. She had discovered that there was a certain satisfaction to being used, to knowing that she was the reason why these stoic, straight-faced cowboys could cut loose and be themselves. And she’d found herself wanting to pay them all back, somehow.
“We can get into that if you think you’re ready for it,” said Tucker, now. “Kitchens are great for that sorta thing. All them handles—”
“I wasn’t thinking about that,” she said.
“Then what were you thinking of?” he asked.
“Well, for starters, that you’re wrong about me.”
“Oh?”
“I may not be a lady, but I still always say ‘Thank you’ to those who take the time to show me a thing or two.”
Kellan’s hands squeezed a little harder—across from her, Truman’s eyes went wide. “I ain’t never done this before,” she said, working her way down Tucker’s body, “so you’ll probably have to give me some pointers—”
“Just go,” he said breathlessly, lying back and closing his eyes.
Kellan’s hands reached between her legs, re-lighting the sensuality that had been, reminding her of how good it felt to be touched, and what she wanted Tucker to feel. Her clit was still a little raw, but the pleasure of being touched outweighed the pain and when she took Tucker into her mouth she wanted him to feel that pleasure, feel that—
Ten-foot Tucker, indeed, she thought, as she felt him harden and swell. It felt as if his cock was as wide as it was long—her eyes began to water as she tried to take him deeper, but he was just too long. But his eyes were rolling back in his head as he watched her, and she’d discovered that you might be able to fake the scrams but there was no faking the shudders that started from deep within.
I can do this, she thought, and even through her tears she could see him panting and groaning as she wrapped her tongue around him and pressed her lips to his shaft, sucking on it just a little—it was barely a kiss—but he began to spasm and shake inside her-and she felt Kellan put just a little pressure against her clit and she wanted to gasp but he was already inside her and when her throat twitched as her body tried to cry out Tucker came, a rush of salty-sweet-sour cum washing over the inside of her mouth, running down and out.
“Swallow,” Kellan whispered, and she obeyed—the slime was already mixing with her spit and as he pulled her off of Tucker he asked her, “What in tarnation were you thinkin’?”
“What do you mean?” she asked.
“That no woman,” Tucker gasped, his voice hoarse and his breathing unsteady, “has ever—given me—a blowjob—of her own accord.”
She laughed nervously. “That sounds funny,” she said. “If you’re really as good as you say you are—”
“Honey,” said Kellan, chuckling, “You’re gonna find out that when it comes to sex most men lie at least half the time and Tucker is more than most men.”
She sighed. It wasn’t exactly a surprise—she’d pegged Tucker for a talker the moment she saw him. Still, it would have been nice to know that he was more than just pretty words. He did give you the time of your life, she thought. But afterward? Afterward, what then?
“Come on,” Kellan said, holding open his sleeping bag. “I got room for you under here.”
“Thanks,” she said, settling against him. She’d learned, at any rate, to like the way Kellan held her—firmly, gently, just one touch from setting off the electric tingles, and if she behaved nicely, he would make that one touch. Was this how addictions started? She didn’t care. It was nice to be wanted, even if it was only for a day.
It was Truman who saw it first—the flashing yellow lights of the snowplows the next morning. “Woo hoo!” he hollered. “We can get outta here!”
She pulled on her underwear and her bra again, dressed herself in the stockings and the dress of her waitressing uniform. Then she put on some coffee—if these were cowboys they’d appreciate a cup more than most. “Thanks,” said Kellan, when she came out with the cups. “We’ll shovel you out when we leave.”
But he couldn’t hide his reluctance to leave. At first Shandy thought that maybe they were hungry. “I can make you boys pancakes or waffles,” she offered.
“Thanks, sweetie,” said Tucker. “But we’re just lazy—ain’t two ways about it. We shovel enough shit in our lives. Don’t need to shovel no snow, either.”
“The highway is clear,” Truman called. He was standing on one of the tables. “All we gotta do is get the truck out.”
Kellan snorted. “That snow drift is ten-feet high,” he drawled.
“Well, your truck got a V8 engine,” said Tucker.
“So is that it, then?” she asked, her voice cutting through their transportation concerns
“Honey,” said Kellan. “I tried to warn you—”
“I know you did,” she said. “I just—can’t you—maybe promise me that you’ll come back? I mean, I know you guys are gonna be in and out. I don’t mind that. I just need to know that you still want me—”
“My dear, sweet little Shandy,” murmured Tucker as he took her in his arms. “We’ll always want you.”
“I promise—I’ll keep myself for you three—”
“No,” Tucker said. “You go and find yourself love, you hear? You go and find yourself that man that will love you the way we showed you and you marry him and make fat babies together. We’ll come back until you do, okay? Promise. But we ain’t the guys to give you the kind of love you deserve.”
She found herself nodding along, crying for some reason. She didn’t know why—she knew they wouldn’t be staying. She knew, too, that they’d probably forget about her in a fortnight. That she wasn’t a virgin anymore, so how could she be special, still? What have I done? Tucker hugged her again. “How ‘bout we set a date?” he asked. “We can do it in your place—it’s close by, ain’t it? Maybe get some toys, and another girl in on the action?”
“Can you—” she sputtered, “—are you—serious?”
“Never know if something’s gonna rock your world ‘til you try it,” he said, smiling and winking at her. “And frankly, I think you’d like it.”
She coughed, not knowing what she could say to that. She was imagining herself with a girl, now, eating her pussy and sucking on her tits. The idea frightened her a bit—and yet, she had to confess, the thought of being with another woman made her curious. What would it be like to have that kind of power over someone?
She shook her head. That wasn’t important, not now. The important thing was that they were coming back. “I’m off on Thursdays,” she said. “My place is above the dry-cleaner’s. There’s a doorbell.”
“Which—” he began and then he realized what he was saying. “Right, silly question.” There was only one dry-cleaner’s in a town as small as Vernon. “I’ll go help Kellan,” he said. “If you can write down the name of the place before we leave, I’ll be much obliged to you, miss.”
“Shady. My name is Shandy,” she said. “Don’t tell me you forgot it already.”
He grinned at her: You’ll never know.
“See you in two weeks, then,” she said.
Two weeks later the blizzard was a distant memory but the streets were still walled on either side by a mountain of snow. She was working—it was Wednesday—and Marvin, her sketchy oversexed boss, swore that he would make her pay for the food that the three had eaten while they were stuck there. It didn’t matter to him that they’d paid for it. “You can’t do that,” she said, fear rising in her voice when she realized how he wanted her to repay him. “That’s sexual harassment.”
“It’s getting what I’m owed,” he said, his voice petulant and mean. “So either you do what I want, or it’s a whole week of me telling every single driver that you are the skankiest piece of ass on this side of the Mississippi.”
Her shift was over; still no signs of the three. She put her panties back on, wondering how many people had divined what she wasn’
t wearing. That was the deal, fulfilling Marvin’s wet dream of having a sweet piece of bare ass prancing about his diner. She felt like throwing up.
She needed Tucker’s touch more than ever, but as the parking lot remained bare she began to cry in despair. She’d been bracing for this but now that it happened it surprised her how much it still hurt. They weren’t coming back for her. Maybe they were coming back on Thursday, she thought. Thursday was so far away—
She managed to make the drive back to her apartment without getting into any major accidents. “Hey, everything all right?” asked Mr. Rye, the old man who owned the dry cleaners. He was locking up.
She nodded, glum. “Well, chin up, girl,” said Mr. Rye. “It can only get better.”
No, she thought. It all goes downhill from here.
It wasn’t until she was on the walkway to her apartment when she noticed the familiar-looking pickup in the lot, and she wasn’t surprised when a blond woman wearing a corset, stockings, and not much else opened her door for her, saying, “Welcome home, Shandy.”
My Christmas Gift
Monsters, giant cats and vampires spin around me as I rush from table to table during the last hour of my day shift at Kennedy’s, the newest and therefore busiest restaurant in an already fast paced city.
I bump into an evil fairy and groan. I’ve already had to wipe fake blood off of my white apron before it stained, and still I look like I had an accident with a kitchen knife.
“Don’t bother.” Charlie, bartender and my favorite coworker, says as I reach for a napkin on the bar counter. “It’s Halloween, a bit of fake blood isn’t going to hurt.”
“A bit of fake blood is going to stain.” I argue and thank him as he dips the end of a napkin in a glass of water. “And you know David would take a new apron out of my paycheck. Cheap ass.” I mutter and finish wiping it off. Charlie fixes his long dark ponytail and shakes his head.
I continue my rounds like a robot, laughing politely when appropriate and focusing only on my assigned tables. It’s one of those lucky nights where my shift ends before any of my tables are finished eating, and I’ll be able to pass them over to my best friend and least favorite coworker Camila when she clocks in.