Homeless Heart

"So, again, is there somewhere we can go? I won't give you lovin' if you don't want it. But I think you want it."

She shuddered again and her knees felt like jelly because he'd moved a finger under the rim of her panties, had glided it through her folds, and had found her clit.

"I want it. Oh, god, how I want it," she answered with a deep groan. "There's a back hallway. To a storage room. I'd signed on to wheel a cart back there with cleaned juice containers after the breakfast is over."

A second finger sank into her cunt as Craig looked over toward the food tables. The fingers were so meaty and long and sensuous. And he knew exactly what he was looking for. "There aren't any juice containers out. Do you suppose the cart's ready to go back?"

They fucked against the tiled wall in the back hallway in the dim light coming from an exit door at the end of the corridor. He wheeled the cart back for her, with her leading the way on shaky legs.

What was she doing? She'd never done this before. But Kurt was such a shit. When she'd gone into the kitchen for the cart he was practically dry humping the blonde. Everyone else was moving around them like they weren't there, but they were twittering about it. They'd be giving Linda sympathetic, clucking phrases of encouragement for weeks to come. But any of her sorority sisters would be happy to have Kurt fucking them. That was the hypocrisy around here.

Well, she'd been a miss goody two-shoes for too long. She'd show them. Of course she'd never tell any of them she'd done it. She'd die of embarrassment for any of them to know.

And Craig was such a hunk. And so masterful. It didn't matter if he was homeless. He wasn't crazy like some of the others—or at least what she thought of when she thought of the homeless. And he was clean. He was probably just down on his luck. He was so well spoken and so considerate. He'd been brought up right. He was just down on his luck. Temporarily. She could help him to . . . no, stop that, Linda, she thought. She wasn't going to buy the man. She was just going to use his cock. She needed this. Just to clear the air and equalize the scoreboard with Kurt. She'd never see this guy again.

Craig pushed her up against the wall, facing it. She put her hands up on the wall, feeling the coolness of the tiles on her palms and on the cheek she had against the wall. She heard him pull his T-shirt over his head and then he was tugging at hers. It pulled off her easily. He unsnapped her bra like he was an expert at it, and perhaps he was. He filled his hands with her breasts and found the nipples with fingers and thumbs. She felt his naked chest on her shoulder blades, and she felt like they both were completely naked and entwined on a bed. She moaned as she felt his lips in the hollow of her neck. He took a hand from one of her breasts and pulled her skirt up around her waist. She trembled at the feel of the power of his bulge at the small of her back. His hand went under the waistband of her panties and he was working her clit and cunt with his fingers again. She began moving against him and flowing for him. He pushed the panties down on her hips and she put her hands down and pushed them down far enough that they fell to the floor and she could step out of them. She lifted one hand to the back of his neck, holding him to the never-ending kiss of their searching mouths. The other hand went behind him and pushed between his jeans and briefs on his buttocks to where she could feel firm, warm flesh.

None of this was real, of course, but he was real. A hard body. A man who was going to be inside her. A cock that, unlike Kurt's, was going to stay with her until she'd been finished.

The kiss ended and his mouth went to her ear, "If I'm hurting you, please let me know right away."

"You're not hurting me."

"I mean when I enter you. I'm sorry. I'm pretty thick. And I want to tell you now. Your body is so beautiful, I may not be in full control later. You may need to tell me."

Sorry? Thick? Linda wanted to scream. What's there to be sorry for that. And asking me to let you know if it's hurting me. When was the last time that prick, Kurt, asked me that?

The sound of his belt buckle opening sent a bolt of electricity through her body. But it also gave her a wake-up call. "No. Wait . . . we can't . . We don't have . . ."

"Yes we do," Craig whispered in her ear, floating the condom disk before her eyes, already out of its packet.

Of course, she thought. A homeless man who came to breakfast prepared. It was a Valentine's Day meal, of course. She was being hysterical. Should she stop this? Had this gone too far? This wasn't at all like her. It was just this fight with Kurt. "Oh, fuck. Oh, shit!"

It was too late. He was already moving up inside her. Slowly, but steadily. Stretching her. To the limit. Shit, he'd been so right. He was thick. Much thicker than Kurt. Thicker than any man she'd been with. She didn't know if she could. She couldn't . . . but then he was deep inside her and was starting a slow pump. One hand was covering a breast and the fingers of the other were rubbing between her folds, working her clit.

He was so big, so powerful. He wasn't the thin homeless man anymore. He was the master. She was panting hard and groans came up from deep inside her.

"Am I . . .?"

"No, you're not hurting me. Just . . . keep . . . doing what you're doing." She started moving her hips and rising and falling on the soles of her feet, searching for a rhythm. And finding it.

This was how it had been with Kurt at the beginning. No, that was a lie. This was . . . so . . . much better.

He began moving her, turning her, so that her back was to the wall. He was still wearing his jeans and sneakers, but his fly was flared. She got a look, just a brief one, at his erect cock while he was turning her, and her heart did a flub bub. He was much thicker than Kurt was. He palmed her buttocks and raised her feet off the floor, pushing her back up the cool tiles of the wall, and settled her down on his cock. She lifted her knees and hooked her legs on his hips. They were chest to chest, hers smashed into his, nipple to nipple. He moved his chest in a circle on her tits, and she moaned, thinking she could feel his nipples rubbing hers.

He pulled away and somehow got his mouth down on a nipple and started sucking hard as he thrust his cock up into her. Withdraw and thrust. Withdraw and thrust. Withdrawandthrust. She shuddered and groaned with each thrust. Faster and deeper. Faster and deeper yet.

They fired off almost simultaneously. The first time. They'd been in sync, had exploded nearly together the first time.

The first time? What was she thinking? What first time? This was just a grudge act. Just temporary, because he was such a hunk and because he was there. And because Kurt wasn't. Craig was homeless. There was no future in that. She couldn't be thinking in terms of a first time. This was it. The only time.

But it had been so glorious.

He let her down and pulled away from her, shy and almost embarrassed. They couldn't look at each other. It was as if they had both awakened to reality at the same time. He was stuffing that thick cock of his inside his briefs and zipping up his jeans.

He looked so thin even with the good muscle tone. Linda reached out and touched his torso, right below his pecs, with two fingers.

"What?" he asked, almost as if it was a shock that she had touched him.

"Nothing," she answered. "I just wanted to see if you were real."

"And am I?"

"No, I'm afraid not. I wish . . . but . . ."

"Because I'm homeless?"

There was a pause. "Yes, I guess that's so. This only happened because I was tired of carrying a man's baggage. I can't change one man with baggage for another one . . . not that it wasn't wonderful."

"Wonderful," he repeated.

"And what I needed."

"Yes," he said. "I sensed that it was what you needed. Believe me I wouldn't have done it otherwise. It isn't me."

"This isn't me either," Linda said. And having said it, she felt full of regret. No, it wasn't her. That was just honesty. But she wished with all her heart that it was her.

"And if I wasn't homeless?"

"But you are," she said, with a sigh. "Could you hand me my bra and panties and T-shirt, please? I'd better be back before they come looking for me."

Come looking for me, she thought. Ha. That would be the day. Kurt come looking for me. He's probably in some other room here fucking that blonde. He doesn't give a shit where I am. As long as I come through with those basketball tickets.

Craig stood there and watched her redress. He had zipped up his jeans but he hadn't buckled the buckle yet. And he was still shirtless. Thin or not, Linda thought he was beautiful.

"You're so beautiful," he said.

She gave a little laugh. "Funny, I was thinking the same of you."

"I'll wait here until you have a chance to get back in the kitchen," he said.

"Yes, that would be best." She so much wanted to thank him, and she sensed that he was about to say that too. But words weren't needed. She thought they both knew this had been something special. Weird, but special. She turned and walked away.

She found Kurt in a heap on the floor, nursing his jaw, when she entered the kitchen. Most of the rest of the volunteers were standing across the room from him, leaning up against a steel preparation table and chatting about the experience, while a few of them finished off the cleanup chores. Some of them were casting amused looks at Kurt, while others were sharing the amusement without looking at him. The blonde was gone.

"What?" Linda said, stopping dead in her tracks just inside the door.

"Dawn's boyfriend showed up," Sophia told her, her voice tinged with an edge of laughter.

Of Course. Dawn. The ditzy blonde Kurt had been all over.

She gave Kurt a disgusted look, and said, "You can take the car when you're able to get up. I'll find a bus stop." Then she turned, hit the swinging door with her butt, and was gone.

As she walked out into the parking lot, some form of cute little foreign sports car that looked like fun but not a mint of money drew up abreast of her.

"Need a lift somewhere?"

Craig was in the driver's seat.

"Did you steal this car just to offer me a ride home? Because, if you did, I'm impressed. But everything about you impresses me . . . dammit."

"No, this is mine. And I thought maybe you'd accept a lift to my home. We haven't properly fucked yet. It's Valentine's Day. A woman should be properly fucked on Valentine's Day."

"That one was about the best one I've had since last Valentine's Day. And I think you know it was. And what's this about this being your car and you having a home? Don't you know it's against the law to say you're homeless if you have a home?"

"Sorry about that. I probably should have told you earlier. I'm not really homeless. I'm a state inspector. We check on operations like this to keep tabs on how well our support money is being spent. Checking on the service and such."

"Not homeless." She tried to make it sound flat, but it was anything but that. She was hyperventilating and her spirits were soaring above the clouds. "And the service. Was it good?"

"The service was triple A. The breakfast operation was pretty good too. So, do you have a car, or do you need a lift? Or do you have a car here but you don't care, you'll come home and let me fuck you again instead?"

"Are you always this forward?"

"Only when I see something I can't live without. It's Valentine's Day. I think we both need something for the heart."

"I'm leaving the car for Kurt. For my boyfriend."

"Hoping that this Kurt, this boyfriend, will drive off into the sunset?"

"Yes, something like that."

"And, so, you'll come home with me."

She didn't answer. She just walked around the car and got in on the passenger side.

"You interested in pro basketball?" She asked. "I have two tickets to a Washington Wizard's game."

"Sure, but can we fuck before that?"

"Yes. Several times, I hope. The game isn't until next week."