Neil looked away from Trish and Mark only to watch the woman by the door as she masturbated in his stockroom. Even in the dim light he could see that she was also approaching climax, and Neil suspected that she would not be able to remain quiet once she started to cum. He watched as she licked her fingers once again, and he wondered how her sweet nectar tasted.
Trish couldn't last much longer. She put her right foot up on a box to spread her legs wider. "Stick your fingers in my cunt, Mark," she commanded breathlessly. "I'm gonna cum."
Neil saw Mark extend two fingers and slide them right up inside her. He began sliding them in and out furiously, still licking her clit at the same rhythmic pace.
A moment later, she was cumming loudly.
"MOTHERFUCKER! OH SHIT! OH FUCK! OH GOD! OH! OH! OH!" she cried.
When she finally relaxed, Mark stood up, turned her around, and bent her over. Trish grabbed the shelf and braced herself. Mark pounded his cock into her dripping pussy, and began fucking her hard. The entire shelf shook with the force of his thrusts, and a couple of small boxes fell to the floor.
Trish opened her eyes and attempted to look at Mark behind her. As she looked to the side, she caught a glimpse of Neil, cock in hand. Her eyes widened in surprise, but she didn't tell Mark. She knew that she should put a stop to this, but she couldn't even form the word "stop" with her lips. She felt a thrill at the naughtiness of having her coworker jerking off while watching her get fucked doggy-style.
"Spank me, Slapshot," she said loudly. She wanted to make sure Neil heard her ask for it.
Sherry did not hear her ask. She was startled at the sharp crack of Mark's hand on Trish's ass, and it drove her to cum before she even realized she was already there. She couldn't stifle her cries, but Trish didn't hear her over the spanking sound on her bottom.
"Harder. Spank me harder," she moaned. "I'm such a bad girl. I'm getting fucked at work, like a bad, bad girl."
The other woman recovered quickly and pulled up her panties before opening the creaky door and rushing back into the bar. Trish assumed it was the bartender leaving the room, and she thought they were alone once again.
"You are bad," Mark replied, playing along. "You are letting me fuck you in the stockroom, you dirty girl. Do you like my hand spanking your ass, you bad little girl?"
"Yes, Coach. I like it," she murmured.
Mark heard only incoherent mumbles. He spanked her and fucked her for another minute, and then pulled his cock out of her pussy and turned her around. He pushed her to her knees even more roughly than before and thrust his cock back into her mouth.
"Suck it out, Baby," he said. "Suck all the cum out of my cock. Suck it right into your mouth and swallow it," he rambled. He was very close to cumming and had very little control over his speech.
Suddenly he slammed his pelvis into her face so hard that the back of her head hit a carton of toilet paper. His cock slipped out of her mouth just as he began to cum. The first spurt landed on her left breast, and the second hit her chin. She quickly opened her mouth and stuck out her tongue to catch the rest. Mark pushed the tip of his cock down onto her tongue to make sure it landed in her mouth.
This was more than Neil could take. His hand was jerking his cock fast and hard, and seeing Trish with cum on her tit and her face pushed him right over the brink.
"Ungh. Ungh. Ungh," he moaned. He came hard, his cum splashing against a carton of cocktail nuts on the shelf in front of him.
"What was that?" Mark asked with a hint of alarm in his voice.
Mark hustled to get to the pond in time to skate before work. He knew that Mr. Phillips would ask if he'd been skating, and he wanted to get one more skate in before he had to answer. The store opened at 9:00, and it was only 7:15. He figured that he could skate for half an hour and still arrive on time.
He eased his Jeep down the icy access road through the woods to the pond. When he reached the clearing, he could see movement in the direction of the pond. He parked the Jeep and grabbed his skates, deciding to walk the rest of the way. He thought maybe it would be the figure skater, and he wanted to be able to make a discreet escape if he felt like he was intruding.
Warm up and figures finished, I decide to forgo my usual "Run Through of All My Old Programs", in order to concentrate on Screwdriver. I have dressed carefully for the occasion. It's a frigid morning, so I know I won't be staying much longer.
I remove my warm-up pants carefully to avoid catching them on my skate blades, leaving only my wrap-around skating skirt covering me below the waist. I am wearing a demure snowflake sweater, knitted by my aunt. It will keep me warm, but not for long.
The music starts, and I begin to skate.
Let me tell you once a story about this ladies nice caboose.
When she builds a head a steam she be bustin' something loose.
With the sensuality of an exotic dancer, I flip my skirt up, allowing the cold air to brush my private parts. I gyrate my hips, and glide into back crossovers. I run my hands down my chest as I skate, and just before I jump, I pull my sweater over my head. My toe pick grabs the ice, I turn and lift, and my sweater flies through the air, just missing the bench.
As I land, I notice that my nipples are so hard, they feel as though they could shatter to the ice. I place my hands on my tits and feel a little warmth from my palms.
Wearing only my flimsy skirt now, I do a spiral. My leg is high over my head, and the frigid air laps at my pussy. I am aware that spectators would have a clear view of the warm spot between my legs. I almost wish I had an audience.
I continue to move slowly and sensually, but as the chorus approaches, I pick up speed.
I wanna screw driver take me home step on the gas.
I wanna screw driver ah she drives it hard ain't afraid to pass.
I start in a sit spin, hoping I don't fall on my ass, and then stand into a layback. I feel the cold air on my nipples as my chest presses skyward, and I pinch them again as I spin. I feel my sheer skirt fluttering on my thighs. I give the strings a tug, and the skirt comes off in my hand.
I am completely nude and completely freezing.
I skate faster and harder... Camel spin exposing the cleft between my legs... Salchow... Spread eagle, my cold hands moving up my inner thighs into my pussy, just for a moment...
As the end of the song approaches, I start my last scratch spin. I'm spinning so fast, I am hardly aware of my nudity.
I wanna screw driver what can I do
I wanna screw driver what can I do to do it for you
I got a screw. Driver.
On the last note of the song, my toe pick digs into the ice and I throw my arms up into the air, stretching my tits flat against my chest. The small patch of hair on my mons does not help to keep me warm. My cheeks are flushed and my usually pink nipples are red. My eyes are watering, making it hard to see.
Once again I feel the sensation of being watched. I look around for the deer, and instead see the motionless figure of a man at the edge of the woods.
Mark knew he should have gotten back in his car and driven away as soon as he saw the figure skater. He just didn't expect her to be nude.
As she rushed to collect her clothes, he high-tailed it to his car and sped away, wondering who the hell she was.
He was right about one thing though. As soon as he got to work, Mr. Phillips asked him if he'd been to the pond. Mark stammered a little, not knowing if Mr. Phillips knew about the figure skater.
"I tried, uh, this morning, but, uh, there was somebody, uh, a girl, uh..."
Mr. Phillips interrupted him, "Oh, that's my niece Trish. You know, the waitress from Mickey's."
Mark was very glad that he didn't mention the fact that she was skating with no clothes on. His head was swimming. His Trish was the nude skater?
"Oh. Really? I didn't know Trish skated," Mark replied, trying to sound nonchalant as two other salesmen joined the group.
"Do you know Trish?" Mr. Phillips asked, "I mean, outside of Mickey's?"
"We've been dating a little," Mark said. He didn't know how much to tell Mr. Phillips, and he didn't know what to make of it when Derek elbowed Rob and snickered.
A customer entered the store, and Mark was grateful for the opportunity to excuse himself.
Trish met Mark at Joey's Pizza on Beechwood Drive for dinner. It was early, and they were the only customers. Both of them seemed distracted, like something was on each of their minds.
Mark fiddled with his straw, not knowing whether to bring up what he saw at the pond or not.
Trish reached across the table and entwined her fingers in Mark's. She looked somber as she said, "I have something to tell you."
Mark thought Trish was going to tell him that she was pissed that he was spying on her at the pond. He tried to relax, and took a deep breath, ready to face the music. He said, "Trish, I am falling hard for you. I hope you're not breaking up with me."
"Breaking up with you? No way. I have to tell you something about me. It's important that I get this out now, so don't interrupt, OK? I just hope you won't want to break up with me once you know," she said bitterly.
He squeezed her hand, and said, "OK. Tell me."
"I am a sex addict," Trish said, looking Mark in the eye. She held her hand up to remind him not to interrupt.
"I am in therapy and I take medication, but I have a problem," she said.
Mark looked stunned and a little hurt. He opened his mouth to speak, but again Trish's hand stopped him.
"Listen. I know what you're going to ask. No. I did not hook up with you to feed my addiction. I genuinely like you, and you are amazing in bed. I like having sex with you because of that, not because I am compelled to by my disorder.
"I also know that some people don't believe in sex addiction. They hear about Bill Clinton and Tiger Woods, and think it's an excuse. Maybe it is for some people, but not for me.
"You know I skate, right?"
Mark could feel his cheeks turning scarlet red as he nodded. "I just found out," he said.
"Well, I started skating when I was very young. My Gran has a nice, little pond behind her house, where I learned. I'll take you there sometime, so we can skate together," she added.
Mark nodded, blushing again. He hoped Trish didn't notice. He also began to suspect that she didn't know that he was the one who saw her skating in the nude.
"When I started to show some talent, my parents hired a coach for me, Mr. Yablokov. He was a former Soviet coach, and he was hard as nails. I went to Utah to train with him when I was only eight. When my parents died in a car accident two years later, I was already on track for the Olympics, so I stayed with him."
"Oh, Honey. I didn't realize your parents were..." Mark stammered.
"Stop interrupting," she chastised.
"It addition to being tough," Trish said before pausing to collect herself. "Mr. Yablokov was also abusive. Sexually abusive. When we didn't perform well or train hard enough, we made up for it sexually."
Mark's mouth was hanging open, and his eyes welled up a bit. "Oh, my god," he said softly.
"As I've said, I've had a lot of therapy, so I understand how this has affected my addiction. Whenever my life gets off-kilter, I go on a binge. It's like atoning for a bad skate by blowing the coach."
"Blowing the coach?" Mark repeated softly.
"And sometimes worse. Yablokov was cruel. You don't want to hear more, trust me," she added.
"Anyway. That's my pattern. I take Prozac to help control the anxiety and depression that can send me on a binge. It's not a cure, but it helps."
"Does your shrink think you should be dating? Fucking a guy on the first date? Where do I fall in this?" Mark asked a little desperately.
"Mark, I like you. A lot. Part of the reason I am telling you this is that I would like to have you come to therapy with me so we can figure out how to make this work. The other reason is that you will hear about me from people around town, if you haven't already. People don't know about Yablokov, and even if they say I'm a sex addict, they don't know the truth. Most just call me a slut."
"What?" Mark started, but Trish cut him off again.
"I have had sex with a lot of men since I came back from Utah. Not so many recently, but I do not have a good reputation," she added. "Yablokov died of a heart attack three weeks before Nationals, you know, the competition where you qualify for the Olympics. I came home to live with Uncle Phil and Aunt Kate, and I never competed again."
"How old were you?" Mark questioned.
"Sixteen," she replied. "That left me two years of high school to fuck my way through," she added wryly.
"I thought people who were sexually abused were afraid to have sex," Mark said.
"No two people handle these things the same way," Trish explained. "This is how it has affected me."
Trish paused, and asked tentatively, "Are you still falling for me?"
"I absolutely am," he replied softly.
"Number 42!" the guy at the counter interrupted, announcing that their pizza was ready.
Trish sat on her couch, thinking about the man she had seen at the pond. She couldn't imagine who would be watching her. Who the hell would know that she was there? Why would anyone else be at her pond, especially so early in the morning?
At least she had told Mark about her problem, and got that off her chest. She was so hopeful about this relationship, and he did say he was falling for her. She decided that she'd call him later, after hockey practice.
In the meantime, she went to the kitchen and got a glass of water. She grabbed her iPod off the counter, and padded down the hall to her room. She found her Jack Rabbit vibrator, queued up Screwdriver on the iPod, and took off her clothes. Sometimes she'd masturbate keeping her shirt on and pulling her pants down around her ankles, but today she decided to take everything off.
She lay back on the bed, and spread her legs. She pushed play on her iPod, and turned the vibrating ears on the Jack Rabbit. She could see herself in the mirror across from her bed, and she liked what she saw. She thought about skating in the nude, and how powerful she felt, even when she realized that she was being watched. The vibrations from Jack's ears were already working their magic, and she turned on the beads on the shaft.
She thought about her first night with Mark, and how nicely their bodies fit together. He was an amazing pussy licker, and as she thought of how he probed her so gently between the legs, she turned the ears and the shaft up a notch.
Trish watched herself in the mirror as her orgasm approached. Her hair was a mess, her hips were bucking, and she was flushing all over. She started to moan and fucked the shaft in and out of her pussy. Just as she was about to cum, she pulled the phallus out of her and pressed the rotating beads hard against her clit.
That gave her the change in momentum to hover on the brink of orgasm for a moment before crashing down even harder, yelling out loud as she came. The orgasm came in waves, and by the time she was done, she was spent. She collapsed on the bed as sleep closed in on her, Mark and her spectator at the pond forgotten in her slumber.
Most of the team had already left the locker room when Derek Thompson, a salesman from the furniture store, asked, "So, Mark. How's Trish?"
Mark noticed the mocking edge to Derek's voice and remembered how he had elbowed Rob at the store. The other guys chimed in, laughing, pissing Mark off.
"Great. It's going great. She's a lot of fun," he replied, setting off another round of snickers. "What the fuck is so funny?"
Derek answered for them. "We know she's fun. We ALL know," he added, nodding as he spoke.
"My relationship is none of your business," Mark started, but Rob cut him off.
"Your girlfriend is a slut. She's fucked half the town, and the other half is female," Rob added with delight.
Derek chimed in, "Trish has probably done some of them too!"
Just as Derek and Rob put their hands out for a high-five, they heard Mr. Phillips clear his throat. They didn't realize that he had come back into the locker room.
"Get the hell out of here! Not another word about my niece or you're off the team and out of a job!" he growled. "And you all need skating drills. Tomorrow morning, 7:00 A.M. at the pond at my mother's house. Don't be late."
As soon as they left, Mark turned to Mr. Phillips. "I'm not sure that's a good idea," he said.
"Why not?" Mr. Phillips asked.
"Well, um, I don't know if I should tell you this, but," Mark stammered.
"Spit it out, please. I don't have all day," Mr. Phillips prompted.
"Trish was skating this morning. I'm afraid she'll be there tomorrow," he replied.
"So?" Mr. Phillips asked.
"So she was skating in the nude, and I don't think you want those idiots watching her," he blurted.
"Well, you're going to have to be the one to tell her to change her plans, I guess," Mr. Phillips said before stamping out of the locker room.
Mark tried to tell her.
He called and called, but she didn't answer her phone.
He tried driving to her apartment first thing in the morning, but he missed her.
He drove to the pond and hoped for the best.
As it turned out, it was too late.
Today I decide to cut right to the chase, and I take off all of my clothes before the music starts, rather than stripping while I skate.
I feel fabulous. The day is slightly warmer, and I feel powerful and beautiful as I wait for the music to start. I wonder if my interloper will return to watch me. I wonder if he can feel my power or if he only sees my nudity.
The music starts, and I push off.
Mark arrived at the edge of the woods, and saw Trish once again. He was awed by her grace and strength as she jumped high into the air, spinning as she went. Her skin was flawless in the morning light. He could barely make out her pink nipples as she skated by in a blur. She was powerful, and that made him fall just a little harder for her.
He knew he had to go to her, to tell her that the other guys were coming, but he couldn't make his feet move.
He saw movement at the top of the hill, in the direction of her grandmother's house, and there they were- Derek, Rob, and three other idiots from his team. They couldn't just watch quietly, however. Their shouts could be heard a mile away, unless, of course, your iPod was blaring Jackyl in your ears.
He finally willed his feet to move, and he rushed toward her, arriving at the side of the pond, right in front of Trish, just as she jabbed her toe pick into the ice and threw her arms up in the air. She looked positively radiant, but just for a moment.
"Mark? What the hell are you doing here?" she yelled.
"Why the hell couldn't he just stay put and watch from the woods? Why did he have to ruin this whole thing," she stormed to herself.
"Trish," he yelled to her. "Trish, the other guys from the team are here. Put your clothes on!"
She turned to look and removed her ear buds, allowing her to hear their mocking shouts. She whipped her head back to Mark.
"YOU! It was you watching me?" she fumed. "And now you bring them?"
"Honey, Trish... I came down to," he started before she cut him off.
"You were spying on me?" she demanded.
"Well, no. I mean, I came down to skate yesterday, and you were already here and you were so beautiful and so naked," he rambled. "I tried to call last night, but you didn't answer."