Jane and Rusty

"Yeah, actually I do," said Rusty, and he ran out of the apartment and ran straight to the flower shop. He arrived just as the owner was locking the door. Rusty had to beg him to let him in.

"It's for Jane. Please." Rusty clasped his hands together.

The owner sighed as he dropped his tired head and let Rusty in. "Only a cut flower bouquet," he said, pointing his finger in the air, as they walked back towards the flowers. "I'm not doing any arrangements. I'm done designing for the day."

"Jane isn't here?" asked Rusty.

"Nope. You're stuck with me." The flower shop owner was a 38 year old gay man who resembled a very lean, well formed gorilla in build, body hair, and facial features. He worked out frequently and was very proud of his 32 inch waist. His forearms were particularly muscular and hung down low next to his slender thighs, hands curled up almost into fists.

"Well. What kind of flowers does she like?" asked Rusty, flustered, hurried, and obviously desperate. And drunk. The flower shop owner took pity on him, sighed again, and dropped his head down to the side. What a crime it was that such a strapping young man was to be straight.

"She likes masculine flowers."

"What doesthatmean?" asked Rusty.

"It means Cymbidium orchids and tall grasses, but you..." the flower shop owner pointed at Rusty up and down indicating the train wreckage, "...You are going to need roses too." So the flower shop owner put together a bouquet of various kinds of orchids, tall leaning grasses and he began to cut some of the roses short, at different heights.

"Wait! Shouldn't the roses be long?" Rusty asked.

"Trust me. Your girl knows flowers. She knows they'll look better at varying heights and that they'll last longer the shorter they're cut. I know what I'm doing. Let me do my job here."

"Sorry."

"And," the owner added, "She's got this new thing now. She likes the thorns to be left on the roses. I don't know what that's all about. Should I leave them on or shave them off?" he asked, knife in hand.

Rusty smiled. "Leave them on, please."

The owner finished off the bouquet, wrapped it in tissue paper and clear cellophane and tied it off with matching ribbons of which he curled the edges.

"That'll be 75 dollars."

Rusty whistled and paid up. He walked straight to Jane's dormitory. The outside door was locked. It was cold outside. It was a weeknight and it was 8:30 now. No one was going in or out of the building. Finally, after about twenty minutes a group of three kids that all looked like they could be Jane's friends walked into the building. Rusty stood up from the stoop and asked them if they'd let him in. They refused; they didn't like the looks of him and they left him out there, flowers in hand.

Then, a pair of girls came out of the building about forty minutes later and Rusty was able to catch the door and get into the building. Rusty remembered the room and stood in front of it for a good minute, his right hand in the knocking position, his left hand holding a very expensive flower bouquet which he didn't think was very pretty. Finally he knocked.

"Just a minute!" it was Jane. There was some rustling and Jane cracked the door open just a little bit but just enough to see Rusty. "Rusty!" Jane stepped out of her room and closed the door behind her. She was wearing an oversized Ramones tee-shirt and nothing else. "What are you doing here?" she whispered, eyeing the flowers.

"I don't know. I mean. I'm here to see you. I missed you Jane. I was wrong. I'm so sorry." Rusty offered her the flowers. He was so sappy. Jane was so taken by this. None of the guys in her circle of her friends bothered with flowers, with anything like this.

"Um. I'm sort of not alone," said Jane.

"I see," said Rusty, giving Jane the flowers. "I'll leave you be."

"No. Wait. Um. Don't go. You weren't alone tonight either." Rusty looked at Jane quizzically. "Lipstick on your mouth," Jane said, pointing to her own lips. Rusty wiped it off. "Just give me a second to break it off. Wait here." Jane went inside with the flowers, admiring them on the way in. Rusty leaned against the wall of the dormitory, his head swimming in beer and thoughts of Jane. About fifteen minutes later a slender boy came out of Jane's room. He wore tight black jeans, black rimmed glasses, and messy hair. He looked Rusty over and smirked in his face, what he could reach of it at least. Rusty was surprised by his audacity. Rusty could have snapped the boy in half.

Jane invited Rusty in. She was dressed now.

"Thank you for the flowers. You left the thorns on." Jane smiled and turned her eyes down. "Working at a flower shop, no one ever thinks to buy you flowers." Jane hesitated. "Is this really a change of heart? You're drunk."

"Jane. I want to learn more about myself with you. I want to hold you in my arms. I want to tie you to trees. I want to take you to my mother's picnic next weekend." Rusty was being very enthusiastic.

"That's nice to hear" Jane said, excited about the holding and tying part, not so much so about the picnic part. "But are you sure about that picnic. I'd stick out like a sore thumb."

"I don't care. I don't care because with you I can be myself. I keep going out with these other women, trying to be someone I'm not and it just doesn't work. I keep hoping that one day one of them will accept me for me, when someone already has. You. You accepted me even before I accepted myself."

"It's true," said Jane, walking over to Rusty, "I do like your freaky side." He was sitting at her desk chair facing outwards into the bedroom. She sat in his lap and wrapped her arms around his neck. "How do I know you aren't going to push me away tomorrow or the next day?"

"There's nothing I can do to prove it to you at this very moment except to not do it to you tomorrow, or the next day, or the next. Jane, I want to be with you. I want to let go of all these lies I've been telling myself all my life. I want to feel for the rest of my life the way I felt when I was with you. Powerful. Masculine." Free. Accepted.

Rusty was remarkably insightful for a drunken man. Jane knew it was not only difficult for Rusty to share these things with another human being, but difficult to admit to himself. She kissed him sweetly with her eyes closed. She opened her eyes to see his reaction. He was still leaning forward from the kiss, his eyes starting to open. She tilted her head back and parted her lips, offering herself up to him. He grabbed her head with both hands and kissed her powerfully, deeply, massaging her scalp, messing her bright hair, running his hands around her neck and back behind her head to press it harder into his.

He stood up, grabbing Jane by her thighs and wrapping them around his waist, her arms still around his neck, and he walked over to the bed and crawled on to it. For a moment, Rusty knelt on the bed and Jane hung from him by her legs and arms, attached at the lips. He rested her on the futon mattress and began pressing her. He pushed her arms up over her head and pressed them down into the bed at the elbows, then at the wrists, as if deciding which restraint he preferred. He had so much to learn. He pressed on her shoulders, her breasts. He pressed her legs open and down towards the bed. They didn't want to bend because Jane's jeans were so tight so he pulled the jeans down to her knees.

He felt around for her panties but found nothing. He stopped. He looked around Jane's legs to her face. She gave him a naughty smile. She wasn't wearing any panties. Rusty knew she knew he was coming in and she didn't put any on. He savagely pulled her pants off the rest of the way. She jumped onto her knees and pulled off her tee-shirt. She was naked and adorned. Rusty took off his clothes.

"I got something I think you'll like. I dunno," said Jane shrugging.

"What is it?"

"You'll see," replied Jane, innocently.

Jane was still kneeling down on the bed as she rummaged under it, left hand supporting her on the floor, right hand looking for this mysterious item. Her ass was high up in the air and Rusty could contain himself no longer. He slapped her on the left butt cheek. Jane stopped rummaging. She put her right hand down on the ground cautiously. She raised her ass up into the air and Rusty slapped her again. Jane looked back at him; he looked at her. She nodded. He slapped her ass over and over again, Jane letting out an, "Oh my God," or an, "Ah." When Rusty's hand hurt he stopped. He massaged Jane's ass and she returned to rummaging under the bed. As she did this Rusty stuck his fingers into her pussy, into her ass, moving them in and out, feeling the thin wall in between, feeling the wetness he had caused inside of her, feeling the skin of the openings. Finally, Jane popped up from under the bed and Rusty pulled his fingers out of her, she was smiling and a bit out of breath, holding up a pair of handcuffs.

"I thought you might like these," she said, dangling the cuffs from her forefinger. She was proud of her find yet somewhat unsure of what his response to it might be. "What do you think?"

Rusty tore into her like an animal. He grabbed the cuffs from her and pushed her onto her back. He strapped the cuffs around her neck, so that one wrist of the cuff was on one side of her neck and the other wrist was on the other side. He was pressing them into the bed, choking Jane. He tore into her mouth with his. He kept the cuffs around her neck and nibbled at her pierced nipples, flicking his tongue at them intermittently. He kneeled up and peeled the cuffs from Jane's neck, the impression of their links still pressed into her flesh. He held them up and wondered what to do with them, what extremities shall he lock for his very own? What a wonderful gift this woman had waiting for him. He was so glad he came.

All at once Rusty knew what to do. He took Jane's left ankle and cuffed it to a slat high up on Jane's futon bed so that Jane's leg was spread open. Jane giggled and laughed at this. He was so relieved to hear this laughter. He grabbed her other leg and placed it on his chest. He lifted her pelvis up to meet his and he fucked her hard. He fucked her so hard her breasts looked like they were going to shake off her chest cavity. He fucked her so hard Jane had to brace herself to keep from banging her head on the bed and was only just barely successful. He fucked her so hard they both began sweating profusely and all you could hear was the pounding and slapping of muscular flesh and the occasional single minded grunt.

Rusty occasionally leaned down to bite Jane. He would fill his mouth with her side or her breast or her ear. Twice he slapped her across the face and both times she responded with open mouthed laughter which only caused Rusty to fuck her even harder. Jane began fucking Rusty back, she began grinding into him as he thrust himself into her. She became more vocal. She began to writhe, to pull at her hair, bite her own fingers, lips. Sensing she was about to cum Rusty bit at her nipples and placed one hand over her neck to brace himself and continued fucking her in that exact same pace. She threw a complete fit, pushing his hand away, sitting up in the bed, screaming, grabbing him close with her leg, shaking her head, fucking him sitting up. Rusty could feel her insides trembling, seizing, he came too. He couldn't help it.

Rusty gently uncuffed Jane's ankle from the bed. He kissed it and laid down beside her.

"Maybe next time we could get some candles and you could pour the wax on my nipples," Jane said lightheartedly.

"Would that be nice for you?" Rusty asked, never having heard of that before.

"It sounds amazing," Jane said. "And romantic... maybe we should invest in some rope."

"Whoa. Let's not get ahead of ourselves here."

"What? You're the one asking me to your mom's picnic. I've just been doing a little bit of reading. I'm curious."

"Okay. Rope it is." Rusty hesitated. "Do you think you could wear one of those flower print dresses, that go just beneath the knee?"

"Oh my God. I have the perfect thing," said Jane, hands in the air as if to say, 'Hold on.' And she went to the closet and pulled out a vintage 1940's flower print dress. It was pink and green and had a shiny green buckle on the side of the waist. It matched her toenail polish. She pressed the dress on its hanger up against her waist and modeled it for Rusty. It was just like in the comic books. "I love vintage," she said, like the excited school girl she was.

"It's perfect," Rusty said and smiled. "Do you think you could put it on?" Jane tossed the dress over her head, zipped it most of the way, and asked Rusty to zip it the rest of the way.

"Wait," she said. And she rummaged in her closet momentarily and came out with a pair of natural leather heels. She slipped them on, combed her hair, lined her lips, and put on pink lipstick. She stretched out her arms.

"How do I look?" she asked, smiling.

"I wish we had some of that rope right now," said Rusty, walking up to her, still naked, and bending his knees so he could run his hands along the dress, along Jane's ass, her back, her breasts. He messed her hair again. He grabbed her by the head with his forefingers behind it and his thumb at her mouth and he smeared her lipstick across her face. Jane melted into his hand. Still holding onto her head he leaned down and back and grabbed the handcuffs off the bed and cuffed Jane's wrists behind her back. He pushed down on her shoulders. She knelt in front of him, facing him. He was hard again, the sight of her in that dress, the thought of her tied up in rope, willingly for him.

Jane opened her mouth and licked the tip of his cock, she licked around the ridge of its head, but she had no resistance. Her hands were cuffed behind her back. So Rusty grabbed her by the sides of her head and pushed her onto him, and off of him, and onto him again. He pushed himself into her so deeply she gagged but when he looked down at her she continued to push her head forward. She wanted this. And with each gag more saliva came up from her throat, with each push of her head his cock became wetter and wetter until he had to pull her head off of him to keep from cumming. A trail of wetness led from her mouth to his cock as she knelt there looking up at him expectantly, proud of herself, of what she'd done to him. Rusty felt overwhelmed.

He turned her around on the carpet, burning her knees as he did so. Jane took in a "Hiss," as she inhaled. He pushed her face sideways down into the carpet so that he was pressing on her right cheek, her hands were behind her back, and her ass was in the air. He lifted her dress up to her waist. He spit on her ass and Jane relaxed. Rusty pressed the head of his literally dripping wet cock into her ass slowly until her anus closed around it. He slid into her, his left hand still pressing on her right cheek, his right hand grabbing her thigh, pressing her onto him. He began thrusting himself into her with force, pausing in between each thrust, pushing Jane's face harder into the carpet each time.

This pace, this pose, these cuffs, this position of the dress was all very exiting to Jane and she spread her knees open along the carpet, feeling each fiber on her sore knees along the way. She could feel Rusty's balls swinging around to her clit with each thrust and with each thrust she was more aroused, more relaxed. Rusty let out a moan and suddenly began to quicken his pace, he let go of Jane's face and grabbed her with both hands by the thighs. He pounded at her ass until his pace became irregular and he thrust himself deeply into her, holding her, throbbing inside of her.

*****

Rusty uncuffed Jane for the second time that evening, but he wasn't done with her. Out of breath, he gestured for her to touch herself. Jane felt the remains of Rusty in her pussy and now in her ass. She licked her fingers and looked up at Rusty. She touched her cheek; it was abraded. She touched her knees; they were abraded. She pulled hard at her nipples through the dress and hissed. Jane sat back and bent her knees up. She pulled up her dress. She stuck a finger from her left hand in her pussy, moving it in and out slowly, as if beckoning Rusty's fluids to come out. Then she stuck another finger in her pussy and began moving in and out with more rhythm.

She licked her forefinger from her right hand and began massaging her clit. This hand moved hurriedly from her clit to her nipples and back. Rusty noticed this and took over squeezing her nipples for her. He'd squeeze them hard, then pull them out, then shake them. He unbuttoned the front of her dress so he could lick her nipples and then blow on them, freezing them. He kissed and bit her lips, her ears. Jane felt her cheek and her knees, she looked Rusty in the eyes and began moving her finger in and out of herself with greater vigor, touching her clit with more abrasion until finally her heaving and sighing became so loud Rusty covered her mouth. Her convulsing body became stiff and then limp. Rusty lifted her to the bed, laid her down, and sat next to her, running his fingers through her hair.

"I have NEVER done that in front of anyone before," said Jane.

"I've never done a lot of things before," said Rusty. "You look beautiful."

*****

Rusty and Jane stood in front of his mother's door a week and a half later having rung the doorbell. Rusty held his chili. Jane held her cornbread.

"I didn't know you baked. I didn't even know there was an oven in your dorm. How did you even know I was making chili?"

"I have my ways. Besides, I figured chili was the only thing you could make," said Jane. She smiled at Rusty and looked at the door, waiting for it to open. Rusty eyed her as a soft breeze gently lifted the hem of her flower print dress.