Third Date
“Need those second chapter revisions by four, Claire.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
I glare out of the door of my closet... sorry, my office, watching the bobbing, shiny circle of my boss’s bald spot as he navigates the maze of cubicles that separate my demesne from cubicle country.Sighing, I open my desk drawer and pull out a room-temperature, tiny bottle of energy drink and chug it. Tossing the empty bottle into the bin, I put my earbuds back in and settle back to work.
I’m the editor for the tiny science fiction arm of a tiny publishing company, which is actually just another imprint of a publishing behemoth. I don’t particularly care for science fiction, but I’m not in charge of choosing who gets published and who doesn’t. I’m just the one who has to marshal the sub-literate submissions of what invariably seem to be either men with advanced engineering degrees and no concept of the effective use of a comma, or else star trek/wars fanboys who’ve decided that they’re going to tell thinly-disguised versions of their particular fetish, only with the stuff they don’t like fixed.
It depresses me that the only people making real money from this genre are the ones who didn’t bother getting a liberal arts degree. If I have to read another four thousand word run-on sentence defining what, precisely, a Lagrange point is, or why else swords made of light are actually very practical weapons for a high-tech culture, I’m going to throttle someone.
I’m done with the edits my boss wants just a little after noon. Just because I loathe my work doesn’t mean that I’m not great at it. I mail my edits to myself, so I’ll have them on my phone, and then I head out for a lunch break I don’t intend to return from today. A little after three I’ll submit them from my phone’s email client, and with a little luck (and long-established patterns), my boss won’t come back to this part of the office again today.
I pass Milo, the assistant several of us share, and he gives me a nod and a wink on my way out. There will be quid-pro-quo if he has to cover for my absence, but he knows I’m good for it. I wave to him and step out of the office doors, into the sunshine. It’s a glorious day outside, and I pick up a slice from the place next door and take it to the little municipal park across the street to eat.
I’m totally daintily trying to rub a post-pizza grease spot off of my jeans with a rapidly disintegrating napkin when a pair of very expensive shoes walks into my field of vision.
“Excuse me, miss, um...”
So, yeah, the expensive shoes are matched with an expensive suit, and the man wrapped in it is offering me an honest-to-god expensive-looking handkerchief. A handkerchief.
“Too many period dramas?” I ask.
“I’m sorry?”
“Nevermind. Thanks.”
I take the hanky and pour a little water on it. At least now I’m spreading a stain with style.
He takes the seat next to me on the park bench, and I look at him while I rub. Nice. Really nice. I like to think I’m not the kind of girl who’s head is turned by earthly trappings, but this guy is really put together. Good clothes, good hair, carries himself with a yeah-I-know-I’m-attractive-but-I’m-not-a-dick-about-it kind of air.
He’s smiling at me, and his eyes aren’t wandering, but I have no doubt he checked out the goods before he decided to contribute to the cause. I’m not super-hot or anything, but my dad was basically a Norwegian bachelor-farmer, and my mom is Vietnamese. I ended up with that weird asian-girl-next-door look that drives the white boys nuts, freckles and all. I keep in good shape for someone with a desk job, and I don’t hurt for dates when I’m feeling social.
And I gotta say, right here, right now, I’m feeling kinda social.
“So,” I say, “let’s say, what, eight tonight?”
He smiles wider, and laughs.
“Science fiction, huh?”
“Mhmm.” I reply, mouth full of vermicelli. After I finish chewing, I say, “Precisely as glamorous as you imagine.”
“I imagine a lot of pimples.”
“Mmm, you’re not wrong, though it’s also a lot of engineering mansplaining.”
“I bet. So, um, not to be indelicate, but what precisely is this?” He waves his chopsticks at the bowls in front of us.
“Well, mine is pho with beef balls. Yours is Bun Bo Hue.”
“So is this some sort of first date hazing ritual?”
“Basically. Do you want me to tell you what’s in it?”
He plucks a clot of congealed pig’s blood out of the soup with his chopsticks and examines it for a minute before popping it in his mouth. He chews thoughtfully for a while before he swallows. “No, no I don’t think I do.”
“Pretty and wise.“
“Just aware of my limitations. Have to be, in my business.”
“Which is?”
“Sales.”
“Of?”
“Post-it notes, mostly.”
I snort. “Fine, be mysterious.”
“Better chance at a second date if I have some secrets.”
“Your best chance at a second date is to make sure you don’t fuck up the kiss at the end of the first one.”
Jesus, I think he just blushed. “Noted.“
Dinner continues in the same vein, and he holds his own pretty well. I’m a creature who enjoys contrast, and about the time my tits showed up (thanks, Norway) I figured out that it’s fun to keep the boys off balance by dressing like a saint but talking like a sinner.
Also, I can put up with a lot in a potential fuckbuddy, but I’ve never been able to abide stupid. They don’t have to match wits with me, exactly, but they need to be able to follow along without being lead. Simon (Mr. Handkerchief) handles himself rather well, after the initial salvos.
Soon we finish eating (him without splattering himself with chili-oil, something I’ve never managed eating that dish) and we pick up a couple of gelatos and stroll down the sidewalk. It’s a little late, and traffic on the sidewalk is pretty light in this neighborhood. We’re about to pass a few teenage boys sitting on a stoop when one of them decides to cut loose with a wolf-whistle.
Don’t get me wrong, I get the machismo-in-packs thing, but I also know how the right kind of emasculation at the right time of adolescence can wreak havok on the development of the adult male asshole. I spend the next two minutes deriding a group of teenage males in the way only a twenty-something attractive female can. Half of them will probably end up with dominatrix fetishes.
As I’m winding down, it occurs to me that my date might have liked another shot at chivalry. I look at him, and he’d watching me with a wry half-smile and a raised eyebrow. “Do you have anything that you’d like to add?”
He laughs and says, “Well, actually, I’d li
I blink and weave in place for a moment. What the fuck was that? Did I have a stroke? “W-what?”
“I said that I thought you covered everything.”
It takes me a moment to pick up the conversational thread again. He’s still looking at me with that little smile, and when I look at the boys, half of them are grinning and the other half are trying to hide grins.
“I... Uh... Okay, then, uh...”
He takes my elbow, and says to the boys, “I hope you’ll take what happened here to heart, gentlemen, and adjust your behavior accordingly.”
They give him a chorus of ‘Yes, sir’s and we go on our way.
By the time we get to the stoop of my apartment building, I’m no longer frazzled, and when we share a goodnight kiss, I tell him he’s probably worth a second date.
“Yusss!!” is his reply, complete with exaggerated arm pumps.
“Don’t push it.”
He immediately composes himself. “Yes, ma’am. Saturday?”
“Saturday. You pick the place this time.”
He grins and I let him steal one more peck on the lips before I turn and head into my building.
I’m halfway up the steps when I realize I’d forgotten to wear a bra. Glancing down, yup, the thin fabric shows off the points of my nipples like they’re fashion accessories. Sighing, I reach my landing and start digging in my purse for my keys.
Overall a successful night. Although, given my lack of a bra, I don’t understand why my tits are so fucking sore.
“Well, actually, I’d like you to take your shirt off and show your tits to these boys.”
“You WHAT?”
“Your shirt. Unbutton it.”
I gape at him like a fish out of water, even as I work the buttons of my blouse.
“Now hand it to me.”
I do. “What the fuck?!”
“You know, that kind of language isn’t very attractive. Now the bra.”
I unfasten it, and my nipples harden in the slightly chill evening air. He holds his hand out and I give it to him.
“Now face our friends here. Boys, take a good, long look. It’s rare to see tits this nice on a frame like hers.”
Half of the teenagers jaws are still on the ground, the other half are fairly salivating.
“All right. Single file in front of her.”
The quicker wits among them are lined up in front of me before the rest of them even start moving.
“Thirty seconds each. Whatever you want, but only her tits, and don’t leave a mark.”
The first couple content themselves with inexpertly mashing on my tits, and briefly pulling a nipple. Like all things involving groups of males, though, it becomes something of a competition. The third one licks a nipple, the fourth sucks, the fifth uses his teeth, getting a warning grunt from my date.
Once all of them have had their turn, he takes my shoulders in his hands and gently turns me to face him.
Idly running his finger around one of my painfully stiff nipples, he says “You need to learn to accept compliments...”
A sharp tug, and a gasp from me.
“from any man who decides to give you one.”
“Now, apologize to these boys, and mean it.”
I turn to the teenagers, “I’m so sorry, I’m so, so sorry, thank you for the compliment.”
“That’s enough. Does one of you have a smartphone?”
He takes one from the teen closest to him and says, “Okay, join them on the stoop. Right. Now, everyone gather around her, yeah, go ahead and get your hands on her. We’ll snap a pic for a memento.”
Shortly, they’re mailing each other (and no doubt half of their high school) the picture, in which they all have big shit-eating grins. I’m not smiling in it, but only because one of them is holding my jaw, pushing a thumb into my mouth. The rest of them contented themselves with my tits, except one daring soul, who is squeezing my cunt through my jeans.
My date hands me my blouse, and while I’m buttoning it up, he turns to the boys.
“She won’t remember this in a minute, play along. Here.” He tosses my bra to one of them, who quickly stuffs it in a pocket.
Nodding, he turns back to me, and I blink.
“W-what?”
I wake up with that feeling of just escaping a dream I can’t quite remember. Reaching down, I find that I’m wet, so whatever it was, I must have liked it. I consider rubbing one out when I glance at the bedside clock and see I’ve got about eight minutes to make the morning editors meeting.
I scramble out of the apartment in record time, and I even manage to sneak in to the meeting late without causing comment, but it’s almost two in the afternoon before I can escape to the ladies room long enough to bring myself off before I lose my mind.
“Faaaaaancy.”
“I thought it was my turn to bring you somewhere you wouldn’t be able to pronounce the stuff on the menu.”
“And you can?”
“Oh God no, I just let the waiter order for me.”
I snort half of a laugh before I can compose myself, and he points his (snail?) fork at me and grins.
“Wipe that smirk off your face.”
“I earned it. You look nice tonight.”
“You mean you can see more of my t... my cleavage tonight.”
“I hadn’t failed to notice it, no.”
“I imagine you noticed that I didn’t wear a bra last time, too?”
He’s in the middle of taking a sip of wine when I say this, and coughs, sputtering briefly.
“I... Uh... Well, it was hard not to notice.
“Yeah, well, you didn’t say anything, so I felt like maybe you could handle the big guns in public.”
“It’s certainly less conservative.”
It is less conservative. I bought it today, in fact, and I’m still not quite sure why. I don’t own anything else like this dress, and while it’s a long way from slutty, it’s also a long way from how I like to present myself. Conversely, I feel weirdly awkward about my language tonight, and I’ve caught myself changing word choices several times. I don’t know what’s going on with me. This guy isn’t that hot.
Changing the subject, I say “You know, we could have bought thirty bowls of pho with what this meal cost.”
“Not thirty bowls of Bun Bo Hue?”
“Impressive pronunciation. To the everlasting shame of my mother, I’ve never really liked pig knuckle.”
“Mmm. How do you feel about tiny fried birds you eat whole?”
“Uh, is that on the menu tonight?”
“I guess we’ll find out.”
It was, thankfully, not. The meal is good, if a little challenging at times. I’m not absolutely sure we identified everything we ate correctly, but he was right there with me the whole way.
We’re finishing dessert when a man who isn’t our server approaches our table.
“Simon.”
“Hans.”
“I apologize for the timing.”
My date is silent for a moment, and I decide shutting the fuck up is the better part of valor. Hans is kind of scary looking, in a really well dressed sort of way.
“This is not how I do business.”
“Again, I apologize, but we have an unexpected time factor, and our other supplier has... fallen through. The fee,” he lays a fat envelope on the table, which Simon makes no move towards, “will be treble.”
Another moment of silence. Simon is fairly radiating cold rage, Hans impassivity.
Finally, my date responds. “Exclusivity.”
It’s Hans’ turn to be silent for a moment. Then, “Agreed.”
Simon reaches into his jacket and pulls out a pen and a pad of, swear to God, post-it notes. I watch as he writes down a phone number, and then another five digit number underneath it, then sticks it to the envelope and pushes it back to Hans. “As a mark of our new relationship, no charge.”
Hans takes the envelope and nods, and then nods to me. “Again, my apologies.”
He walks away. Simon watches him for a moment, clearly still extremely pissed off, and then turns to me. “We should go.”
“Uh, okay.”
He drops some cash on the table and we leave the restaurant. Simon is fairly radiating cold rage as we wait for the valet to bring the car.
Suddenly he turns to the kid manning the booth and hands him a hundred dollar bill. “Keep it here, overnight. Understood?”
“Uh, yessir.”
He grabs my upper arm and steers to me to a line of taxi cabs. I just sort of go along, he’s clearly in no mood for argument, and for once, I’m not interested in asserting myself. We get in the back seat of the first taxi.
I bite my lip for a minute, and then say, “Look, I know it’s none of my business, but is everyth
I’m coughing like I’m going to lose a lung. Simon rubs my back until the spasms subside. “Are you okay?”
“I...” cough “Sorry,” I pant, “I don’t know what happened,” cough cough coughcoughcough “GOD. Okay, okay, I think I’m good.”
His eyes are full of concern, and he pulls out his wallet and hands the cabbie a couple of twenties. Startled, I look out the window and see that we’re at my apartment complex already. Was I coughing for ten miles or something?
He walks me up the stoop and we stop there a moment. My throat is still raw, and it’s a struggle not to cough right in his face. He pulls out his handkerchief and before I can react, he wipes my chin.
“Sorry, you had a little, uh...”
“Really sexy, right?”
“Completely.”
“No offense, but I think we’ll both be happier if we skip the kiss tonight, especially if I’m coming down with something.”
He chuckles. “No problem. Tell you what, how about we try again next Saturday? Food we can both pronounce and I promise none of my work will follow me.”
I give him a little smile and push on his chest with my index finger. “Third date, huh? You sure you can handle it?”
It’s hard to tell in the twilight gloom, but I’m pretty sure I got another one of his blushes. “I’ll muddle through somehow.”
I tweak his nose. “Somehow.”
He’s still standing there with a stupid grin on his face while I walk into my building.
“Look, I know it’s none of my business, but is everything all right?”
He looks at me for a second, then leans forward and says to the cabbie, “There’s three hundred in it for you if you drive until I tell you to stop and don’t ask any questions.”
The driver doesn’t even glance backwards, he just pulls into traffic and starts driving.
Simon leans back and pinches the bridge of his nose between two fingers and sighs.
I reach over and touch his shoulder. “Simon?”
“Be quiet.”
Hurt, I settle back into my seat and look out the window.
I hear the sound of a zipper at the same time his hand curls into the hair on the top of my head, gripping a tight fistful. I flail as he drags me backwards and down, turning my head so that his half-hard cock mashes against the side of my face.
“Hey, w-what are...”
He shifts his grip, and soon one of his hands is pressing the side of my head against his shirt while the other shifts his cock to prod against my lips.
“No! No, nmmph...”
“Open your goddamned mouth.”
Moments later he’s fucking himself as deep into me as he can, taking his aggression out on my skull.
“You’ve had a cock in there before, act like it.”
He grunts his approval as I start actively participating, changing his pace to he can enjoy the suction and my questing tongue.
“Yeah, there you go. Driver, find us somewhere private and park.”
I can’t see our progress with Simon facefucking me, but I feel the car make a few corners over several minutes and eventually draw to a halt.
“Deeper. Good. Faster. Nnng. Okay, ah, ah, fuckkkk yeah YEAH. Ah, ah, okay, stop, just stay there... tongue the head... yeah in a circle, yeah. Whoo. Okay, swallow.
I sit up and wipe my mouth, Simon’s cum joining the expensive meal in my belly. We just sit there for a couple of minutes while he recovers, and I just sort of... watch him. The cab’s engine is still running, and the meter slowly ticks upwards. The driver’s eyes never even hit the rearview mirror, as far as I can tell.
Eventually, Simon pulls out another wad of bills from his wallet and passes them forward, where they are accepted without comment or eye contact. Simon sits back and regards the back of the driver’s head. Leaning forward again, he puts a hand on the cabbie’s shoulder.
“You did an excellent job tonight. In addition to your fee, I’d like to offer you my date’s mouth. She’ll put in her best effort. Interested?”
He just sits there for a moment, then he gives a short, sharp nod. Simon stares at me for an uncomfortably long moment, and then I’m exiting the taxi and walking around to the front passenger door. Sliding into the seat next to the driver, I lean down and reach under his slight paunch to unzip his pants. Three seconds later I’ve stuffed him in my mouth and I’m sucking him to hardness. His hands never leave the wheel, but his breath starts coming short and fast. He’s older, and not in great shape, but he’s clean, and his cock likes my mouth on it.
Leaning over the front seat, watching, Simon says, “When he finishes, hold it in your mouth and come back to your seat.”
I absorb the new instructions without pausing in my efforts. The driver’s hips are making little thrusts now, and I’ve moved one hand to gently cup and tease his balls. I can hear the leather of the steering wheel creaking under his grip.
Under a minute later, I’m leaving the front of the cab and returning to my seat with a mouthful of working class cum. Simon provides my address, and five minutes later we’re in front of my stoop. He turns to me and says “Swallow now.”
Suddenly I’m coughing like I’m going to lose a lung. Simon rubs my back until the spasms subside. “Are you okay?”
I wake up from another sex dream I can’t quite remember, and this time I don’t even check the clock before I start pawing at my dresser drawer for my vibrator.
“Wow.”
“I know, right?”
What I’m wearing redefines the term little black dress. This contrasts with the t-shirt and jeans Simon is wearing, and it also contrasts with the hamburger joint he picked for date number three.
“We could, uh, go somewhere else, I could change...”
“Oh hush. I’ll survive, although I’m not sure I’ll be able to eat more than a couple of french fries wearing this thing.”
“It... Uh.. It’s really nice.“
I mentally flip through about thirty responses, each dirtier than the last and finally settle on. “Thank you. I wore it for you.”
I seriously don’t know what’s going on with me. I cannot describe this dress as anything other than slutty (although I look like a really high quality flavor of slutty in it), while at the same time I seem unable to say anything dirtier than ‘darn’ while wearing it. Also, Simon’s attention is making me so wet I’m actually kind of concerned there will be an audible squish when I sit down. The pimply teenager (no doubt a fan of some of my editing work) who seated us almost tripped twice while he tried to lead us to our table while ogling me.
We exchange a few more cracks about how tight my dress is while we look at the menu, and soon the pimply-faced teen returns to take our orders.
Simon says, “I’ll just have a cheeseburger and the sweet potato fries.”
The PFT nods. “Great call.” He turns to me. “And what can I g
“So, a side salad and balsamic vinaigrette?”
“Uh... I...”
My stomach gurgles loudly, and both of them are polite enough not to react. “Yeah, yeah that will be fine, thanks.”
“Sure thing, ma’am. Be back with your food in just a minute, guys.”
Simon looks at me. “Just a side salad? Surely it’s not that tight.“
I laugh. “No, not quite. I just... For some reason I’m just not that hungry. Which is weird, given that I skipped lunch.”
Simon frowns. “Have you eaten anything today?“
“And what can I get for you ma’am?”
“Actually,” Simon says, “Can you give us a few more minutes before you put our order in?”
“Sure! I’ll come back in a little bit.”
Simon looks around the restaurant until he spots something. “Mens room. The handicapped stall.”
“I... Yes...”
I stand and walk across the restaurant to the hallway leading to the bathrooms. I look over my shoulder, and Simon hasn’t followed. He’s not even watching me.
The restroom is empty, and small. There are just two stalls and a urinal. I enter the larger and wait.
But not long. I hear the door open, and a moment later, someone gently pushes aside the panel to my stall. It’s one of the restaurant’s busboys, in his stained apron, and we just stare at each other for a moment. Then he comes the rest of the way in and latches the stall door behind him. Anyone walking into the restroom will be able to see our feet, easily.
He looks me up and down, and then stretches a tentative hand towards me. When I don’t move away, he pushes it inside the low neckline of my dress and paws roughly at a breast. His breathing has gotten fast, and I stand there passively as he molests me, both of his rough hands moving over my body, tugging my dress out of the way until it’s just a wad of cloth bunched up around my waist.
There’s nothing tentative about the fingers he pushes into my cunt, and I give a small gasp as my wet hole welcomes him. Done with foreplay, he spins me around by my shoulders, and I hear the rustle of his clothes as he gets ready. He shoves me, roughly, and I catch myself against the wall. He kicks my heels wider apart, spreads my ass with one hand for a better view of his target, and pushes his whole cock into me, sighing with satisfaction as I groan at the intrusion.
There’s nothing subtle about him, and in second his hips are slapping my ass at full speed. He’s got one hand braced on my shoulder, and the other alternates between caressing my ass and spanking it. His breathing is loud, and I can tell he’s getting close when both of his hands move to my hips and really starts to pound my soaking cunt.
I pull away from him. We struggle briefly, until I manage to kneel and get my mouth around his cock, still sloppy with my juices. Three more thrusts, and he’s emptying himself into me as I concentrate on swallowing everything.
He rests for a few moments, letting my mouth suckle him empty, and then steps back and arranges his clothes. He opens the stall door and leaves the bathroom without a backward glance, stepping past a second busboy who has apparently been patiently waiting, towel flung across his shoulder.
I stand up, turn, and rest my face and hands against the cool tile of the wall, presenting my ass. He steps in and latches the stall door.
“... eaten anything today?“
“I...” My stomach gurgles again. “Uh, protein drink.”
“Huh. Well, take care of yourself. That’s the only body you’ve got.”
It’s yours.
“Pardon?” he says.
“I didn’t say anything.”
“Oh, huh. Weird. Anyway, how was your week?”
The rest of the meal is great, and the server and Simon talk me into an ice cream sundae for dessert, which is an indulgence I would usually skip even if I wasn’t on a date.
He leaves a tip larger than the actual bill and we walk out.
I continue to get looks as we walk down the street together, holding hands. I even get a couple of catcalls, but this time I just smile at the offenders. I even go so far as to give one of them a little flash of ass when Simon is looking the other way.
Simon pauses at a little park bordering a duck pond, and we sit on a bench overlooking the water. For a while, we’re silent, just looking at the reflected moon and listening to the crickets.
Eventually, I say, “I really enjoyed tonight. And the other nights, too.”
He squeezes my hand and says, “Me too.”
“Do you, um, are you open to the idea of a long term relationship?”
I feel him turn slightly towards me. He sighs.
“Sweetie, we need to have a talk.”
I brace myself.
He continues, “I imagine you’ve been experiencing some lost time, recently. Maybe some strange dreams?
I blink. “Uh, yeah, I have. A lot, actually.”
He glances around the park. It’s more or less deserted, the last rays of the sun touching only the tops of the trees. The bench we’re on is far from the nearest street lamp.
“Well,” he says, “I can explain those. Why don’t you come here and get on while I do.”
So saying, he unzips his jeans while I move to straddle him. He scoots forward until he sits at the edge of the bench, and I rest my knees on either side of him. He’s already hard. I pull my dress up over my hips and tug my panties aside before lowering myself onto him. I adjust until we’re both as comfortable as we can be, and then I begin gently rocking my hips and listening to him attentively.
He closes his eyes for a moment and his mouth opens just a little as he gets used to the feeling of me. I stroke his hair while I wait for him to continue.
“You’re in the middle of one of those lost moments right now. You had one earlier tonight, while we were in the restaurant.”
He spreads his arms out along the back of the bench and leans his head back, closing his eyes. “Mnnh. You have a good pussy. Anyway, when I start to date someone, they have to be pretty, and clever, both of which you are. They also have to have a very strong will, though, which, I’m afraid to say, you do not.”
I frown down at him, the bench creaking slightly with my movements, and say “What do you mean by that?”
He sighs. “What are you doing right now?”
“Uh, I’m on a date with a guy who just told me I don’t have any willpower.”
“You had some willpower. You don’t now. And I don’t mean what are we doing this evening, I mean what are you doing, right now?“
“I’m riding your cock.”
“And where are we?”
I gesture at the surrounding trees in exasperation. “We’re in a park.”
“A public park.“
I roll my eyes. “Yes, a public park.“
“Okay, now, this part is hard, but I want to think back to before you met me. Do you think you would ever have fucked someone in any public setting before?“
I frown. “Of course not.”
“Then why are you doing it now?”
“You told me to, not five minutes ago!“
“Why would that matter? Would you jump of a bridge if I told you to?”
“I...”
The park is silent as I think about that, save for the sounds of our gentle fuck.
He nods. “So you see. There are people who can resist me, I’ve met a few of them. They’re rare, and thus far none of them have been women, so my search continues.“
I think about that for a while. “So what happens now?”
“With us, you mean?”
“Yeah.”
“Get up and turn around.”
I do, but as I start to lower myself onto him again, he says, “No, in your ass.”
It takes a couple of minutes and a lot of spit, but I manage to get him inside of me. I resume slowly fucking him, this time with my virgin ass.
“To answer your question, we’re gonna fuck for a while tonight, probably more than once. You’re going to fuck a few strangers, most likely, depending on who we run into and my mood. Then we’ll get some sleep.
“Tomorrow, you’re going to call in to work and quit. Then you’ll go to your building’s office and break your lease. You’ll spend the rest of the day packing all of your stuff into boxes, and then you’ll call Goodwill to come haul everything away.”
“Everything?”
“Yeah, all of it. Clean out your bank accounts, in cash, and your IRA, if you have one. Then, you’ll give me a call. When I pick you up, you won’t need anything but whatever you’re wearing and a bag with the money in it.
“Okay...”
“We’ll get some pictures and a couple of short videos of you in action, and then you’re going to be put up for auction. You’ll stay with me for a couple of days while we wait for the results, and then I’m going to deliver you to the high bidder.
“Given the recent trends with the winners, this is probably the last week you’ll be in the States, so think about if there’s somewhere you want to eat one last time before the auction is over and we’ll see if we can make time.”
He falls silent, and I begin mentally ticking restaurants off a list, trying to narrow my favorite meals down to one. I continue to steadily fuck my ass onto him as he relaxes.
After a while, he says, “I’m going to finish soon. We’ve still got places to go tonight, so it would probably be a good idea to take it in your mouth, as opposed to your ass.”
Thirty seconds later he’s emptying his balls onto my tongue, and then we straighten ourselves up.
As we’re walking out of the park, I ask him, “Do you think I’ll be happy?”
He thinks for a moment. “I don’t know, honestly. I don’t really know if I’m happy. It’s kind of a philosophical question. About the only thing I can promise you is that no matter who the winner is, you’re going to be well-used. Try to find some sort of satisfaction in that, it’s sort of your calling now.“
I think about that for a while.
“Well, at least I probably won’t have to read any more bad science fiction.”
He laughs as he escorts me to my new life.