Untitled One

It started in line at the grocery store, which, in retrospect, makes perfect sense, but at the time it puzzled me. Nobody expects to meet the love of their life at the grocery store... not that Carla was the love of my life, exactly, but our time together was precious.

The temperature that day was a balmy ninety-seven degrees. Inside the store, most faces were red and slick with sweat. I could feel my shirt sticking to my back as I perused the produce displays. Flies buzzed and an ineffectual box fan hummed somewhere near the front door. The first time I saw her, Carla was stooped over her basket, rearranging food so that she wouldn't squish the bread, and her long black hair cascaded down one of her sharp shoulders. She caught my attention, but I only let my stare linger for a second before I moved on, not wanting to seem creepy.

Then again I saw her in the freezer section, standing tall now and picking through a case of frozen fruit. Now that I got a good look at her, Carla was very thin. She wore a red spaghetti-strap tank top and I could see her collar bones and her shoulder blades. Her breasts were remarkable, as I had never seen a pair so large and (almost positively) natural on a woman of her size. I'm not very good at guessing women's sizes, but she looked like a skinny size two with a C or maybe even D cup- almost disproportionate, but she carried herself just so that even without a bra, her breasts were magnificent; full and round and perky. Her nipples stood now at attention from the chill of the freezer. Before I realized I was staring, she saw me and smiled radiantly, as if to say it was all right, then she walked away.

I finished my shopping and got in one of the checkout lines. The checkout woman's sweaty grey hair stuck to her forehead. As I put my groceries on the belt, Carla got in line behind me (on purpose or not is anyone's guess.) Every five seconds or so, my fascinated gaze wandered back to her as she carefully placed each item on the register. She picked up a case of bottled water on the bottom of her cart with sweaty palms, struggling with its bulk. I helped her lift the package on to the belt and again she smiled at me, panting subtly.

"Thank you," she said. Her voice was like music on a harp to my ears, mellow and musical.

"You're welcome," I said with a nervous grin.

My order was almost done being scanned and bagged. I never wanted this trip to the grocery store to end. Carla finished emptying her cart, then swore under her breath.

"I forgot something," she said to the checkout woman, "I'll be back in a second." She turned and trotted away as quickly as grocery store decorum would allow, fishing in the pocket of her cutoffs for what I assumed was a grocery list. In her distraction, she didn't see a store employee who was wheeling a mop and bucket over to a spill and Carla tripped over the bucket. I was over and helping her up before I even knew what had happened. The employee was stammering his apologies. The left side of Carla's body was soaked in mop water, her clothes hung off her frail frame, and her breath hitched in her throat with pain.

"I think I twisted my ankle," she murmured, leaning her whole body against me.

"I'll help you," I said, and the sound came out ragged. The employee was flustered, negotiating a "caution" sign in to the middle of the puddle and setting the bucket to rights.

"Thanks," Carla said, looking up at me, her smile tinged with pain. She was several inches shorter than I, her body conformed almost perfectly to me as I helped her hobble to the right aisle to collect her missing grocery item. Then I helped her back to the cash register, where the checkout woman looked simultaneously annoyed by the whole scene and amused by my sickeningly obvious attraction to Carla.

"Thanks," she said to me again, leaning against her car to take the pressure off her ankle, her groceries now paid for and loaded.

"No problem," I said, perhaps a bit too enthusiastically. "Is there, um... someone at home to give you a hand with those groceries?"

"Nope," she said with a sigh, casting her long eyelashes down to hide her enormous doe eyes. "It's just me."

"Can I give you a hand then?"

"Oh, you shouldn't really, I've been so much trouble already!"

"It's no trouble," I insisted, having completely forgotten about the groceries stewing in my own trunk. Melted ice cream and spoiled milk stood no chance against smoldering lust. "I'm not busy today."

"Well..." Carla chewed on her bottom lip thoughtfully for a second, gazing at the pavement, then she shrugged and looked at me again, grinning. "Okay."

We agreed that I would ride with her, then she would bring me back to my car. She lived in an apartment complex across town from me. I helped her out of the car, then up four flights of steps. By the time we reached the top, Carla was visibly fatigued. She moaned softly and my body gave a lurch of excitement before I realized that she moaned only out of annoyance.

"I left my keys in the ignition, we have to go back down," she informed me.

"I'll just get them, you can wait here," I said.

"No, the car has a keypad combination... I'm sorry, mister, but I'm not going to tell you the code. I don't even know you."

The prospect of Carla limping back down and then again up the four flights of stairs seemed ridiculous to me. I suggested carrying her, but she said that she preferred to walk on her own, such as she could. So, nearly fifteen minutes later, both of us now drenched with sweat, Carla put the key in the door to her apartment. The knee on her "good" leg buckled slightly in her exhaustion and she leaned against me, pressing her breasts against my chest. My cock gave a twinge of appreciation and I tried to control myself, wondering if Carla did this on purpose or if I was just (un)lucky.

"Why don't you come sit down a minute?" she suggested, gazing up at me. There was no mistaking the fire in her eyes as she reached up and stroked a few stray wet locks of hair out of my eyes. I just nodded as she opened the door.

Her apartment was clean and sparely furnished. A few plants gave the place some color, but most of it was just plain, comfortably used, neutrally colored furniture. I helped her to the living area and Carla collapsed on the sofa, sighing with relief, both arms folded behind her head. I sat beside her, our thighs touching, and only then did I realize that I had an erection. I wondered how long I'd actually been hard, because Carla turned me on the instant I saw her rummaging in her basket. Now she laughed, a vibrant and lilting sound.

"Are you attracted to me?" she murmured, smiling crookedly, her eyelids at a languid half-mast as she rested against the sofa.

"Very," I blurted, embarrassed, though whether I was embarrassed over the haste and emphasis of my response or the throbbing between my legs was anyone's guess.

"I'm attracted to you too," she said in a tone both confidential and matter-of-fact. She moved to lean against me and place one fragile hand on my chest. "You're very... strong. And handsome." My ears became enflamed.

"I've never met anyone like you before," I said, looking down at her. She smiled almost cryptically. "You're one of the most beautiful women I've ever seen, but you're-..." It seemed tacky to comment on her size. I never found women this small attractive, usually I just felt sorry for them.

"I'm what?" she prodded, her grin widening as if she knew what was coming.

"You're so... skinny," I finished lamely, looking away from her now in shame, though I wasn't sure why. She only laughed, then reached over and unzipped my jeans. My cock sprang free of its confines and I gasped a little when her hot, damp little hand wrapped around it. She pumped a few times, then let go and moved to straddle my knee. I could feel the heat in her pussy through the fabric of her shorts. She leaned on me and kissed me deeply, repeatedly, removing my shirt in between smooches. Her hips pressed down and in. My hands curiously wandered the bony terrain of her body, coming to rest in the smooth curve between her hips and ribcage. I started to remove her tank top, but she stopped me with both hands. Before I could say anything, she kissed me again, then got on the floor and took my erection in her mouth. Her skilled tongue swirled along the shaft and teased the tip while her fingers expertly maneuvered my balls. It was the shortest blow job of my life. I came in her mouth, in her throat; she swallowed the cum with apparent pleasure, then gave the whole length of my dick an affectionate suck before she slithered back up on the couch to rest beside me.

We exchanged numbers. Of course I wanted to call the next day, but with a few hours and a reasonable physical distance between us, my head cleared, and I remembered that calling the next day would only make me look sillier. Carla seemed flattered by my attention, but used to it too, and entertained by how she affected me. I disliked anyone to have so much power over me, but what could I possibly do? In the following days, I had vivid flashbacks which wrought me a horny mess. When my mind wandered at work, it was to Carla. When I sat in traffic, I thought of Carla. In the shower, I jerked off furiously thinking of Carla's firm nipples and the heat of her crotch. At night, I dreamed over and over of the moment I tried to take off her shirt and she simply pushed my hands away. I thought of her when I had sex with my steady girlfriend because it was the only way I could get enough in to the mood to finish the job. But the steady girlfriend noticed that I was different, distant, and her pillow talk was all "What's wrong with you honey" and "You shouldn't work so much."

For one solid week, Carla tortured me thus. My pride wouldn't let me call her, and she didn't call me. On the eighth day, around eight at night, the phone rang, and I felt such a tremendous weight in my chest lift that I knew it was her.

"Hello?"

"Hey there... I've missed you big boy."

Carla's voice vibrated through me. I wasn't sure how to feel about the moniker and I was too turned on to figure it out.

"Yeah, I... I've missed you too," I said, dazed by the sheer force of speaking to her on the phone. Her voice was a powerful intoxicant to me. "How's your ankle?"

She giggled childishly. "Oh, it's perfectly fine. I faked all that."

"Huh?" The room seemed to spin a little.

"I tripped over the mop on purpose to see if you'd help me. I wanted an excuse to be near you. And then when you offered to help with the groceries I knew I wanted to bring you home." She sighed imperceptibly. "I left the keys in the car on purpose too."

The idea of Carla faking a sprained ankle just to get her hands on me had my dick at attention. My mouth was dry as I asked her, dumbfounded, why she left the keys.

"Because you were already hard when we got to the top of the steps."

"You're a real piece of work," I said finally, my voice rough with arousal and confusion. I didn't understand this infatuation, and I didn't like it. Not only did she hold absolute erotic sway over me, she knew it and she played me like a damn keyboard. Resentment bubbled up in me, but before I could say anything regrettable, Carla spoke up again.

"Ask me out."

"What?"

"Ask me out, dummy, I want to see you," she insisted.

"Okay," my voice was robotic in its obedience, "would you like to have dinner tomorrow night?"

"I'd love to," she replied, sounding as thrilled as if I'd been the one to call her and ask out of the blue.

"What time?"

"Eight o'clock."

I told the steady girlfriend that I had to work late. Part of me felt guilty for lying to her, but mostly I could only think about seeing Carla again. I got to the restaurant a few minutes early and ordered a drink. Three drinks and forty-five minutes later, Carla arrived. She wore a sleeveless Grecian-style dress that draped luxuriously over her frail shoulders and ample breasts and billowed out behind her as she walked. She greeted me with a rough kiss, lots of tongue, almost obscenely intimate for being in public, then she sat down and ordered a bottle of red wine. Her ebony hair was coiled on top of her head with a few wisps framing her face. She wore plenty of mascara but her lips were naked and pale and smiling.

When I ordered dinner, she ordered only a salad, claiming to have had a large lunch and declaring an intention to fill up on wine. This was fine with me, as I was certain drunk Carla would be easier to undress than the sober.

By the time I finished eating, she had finished three glasses of wine and acted adorably tipsy, giggling at everything and quite talkative. She ordered dessert, then excused herself to the restroom. Just as I was beginning to wonder if Carla had left the restaurant, I felt an achingly familiar pair of hands snake up my thighs. Her fingers peeked out from behind the table cloth and beckoned me forward. I scooted, practically trembling with excitement, and feeling her undo my slacks was enough to get me completely hard. Once more, Carla gave me an intense but short blow job, this time deep throating almost the entire time. I held on to the edge of the table with white knuckles and wished that I could see her face. When I climaxed, it was with such force that I actually pitched forward and all the table settings clanked noisily. Everyone else in the small restaurant looked at my red, sweaty face and murmured speculatively about the quality of the restaurant's mussels. A few moments later, Carla climbed back in to her chair, fastening one of her earrings for show, beaming, exclaiming "I found it!"

I wanted to be mad at her for doing such a thing in public, but every angry syllable died deep within me before it even became articulate. I zipped and buttoned my fly, burning with embarrassment, but relaxed now from the tension that had plagued me for the last week.

"Can I... come back to your place?" I leaned forward, placing one hand over hers. She put her hand over mine over hers, lightly stroking my knuckles and wrist. The touch electrified my senses, I fought the urge to sweep everything off the table with one arm and fuck her right there in the restaurant. She considered the question for an agonizingly long moment.

"Not tonight," she said at last, resting her hand over mine. I found the touch reassuring. "Call me."

Carla stood up then, deliberately flashing me a glorious view of her cleavage before she left the restaurant and me.

I called her two days later, but she didn't answer. Another week went by. The steady girlfriend noticed now that I was constantly- constantly- distracted. I couldn't even pretend for her in the bedroom any more. She seemed annoyed but not overly concerned, because I was good at convincing her that work was especially difficult right now, just hang in there a few more weeks, baby.

Two weeks after the restaurant encounter, Carla called me.

"Where've you been?" I asked, somewhere between playful, concerned and downright annoyed. This woman was throwing my entire life out of whack and she couldn't even return my calls on time- but that probably had something to do with it.

"Around."

"When can I see you again?"

"Right now, come over to my place," she said. Her voice was breathy. She sounded almost sleepy. "I'm horny as hell."

My tongue welded itself to the roof of my mouth. I simply hung up the phone, took a deep breath, and drove to the other side of town. I flew up the four flights of stairs and opened the door, forgetting about how I was supposed to be aloof to this crazy bitch, oblivious to how I was being manipulated, too drunk on my lust to care even a little. Carla was on her sofa, stretched out like a cat, wearing a short silk bathrobe. On that first day, Carla was extremely thin. Now she approached emaciated. I was riveted to the spot, appalled and once again more deeply aroused than I ever imagined possible. Carla got up from the couch and sashayed over to me. Both sinewy arms slid around my neck, linking at the elbows as she pressed herself against me, grinding herself against my erection, the bulk of her tits a stark contrast to her protruding hipbones. I kissed her and put my arms around her delicate frame. This was the first time I held her. That first day, of course, we were close, but now I held her in my arms like a proper lover.

Now she was mine, and for the first time since meeting Carla I realized that I could physically overpower her at any moment I wished. She may manipulate and tease and frustrate me, but right now, I was the one in power. Carla moved her attention from my mouth to my neck and stood on her tippy-toes to bite me. That would leave a mark and the steady girlfriend would know and there would be an ugly scene, an argument, a breakup; my temper flared at the idea. Carla had wormed her way into every aspect of my life, now would she ruin it all too? I squeezed her bones, not too hard at first, but then she made an excited, throaty noise ("Unh!") and I squeezed her even harder, afraid to break her but also morbidly thrilled at the prospect. I squeezed Carla in to me until I shook with the strain of holding her so hard and she whimpered against my neck.

My grip on her loosened, but only so that I could pick her up and carry her to the sofa. She struggled against me at first, put off by my sudden dominance, then she quiesced and became infuriatingly pliant. I practically threw her down and removed her robe with as much force as I could without ripping it, then positioned myself on top of her, still clothed but hard and panting.

Carla's body was unlike any other woman's body. My hands descended on her with a reverence I thought impossible in the face of such lust, but her unique beauty overpowered me even now. I ran my fingertips along the washboard of her ribs, stroked them, then caressed and squeezed her breasts. She gasped with pleasure. I ran my hands down her ribcage again, then over her concave stomach, then I touched her hipbones. She began feeling her way down to undo my pants. Then I pressed down on her hipbones, then reached around and grabbed two meager handfuls of ass and ran my fingers along the base of her spine. Her spindly legs wrapped around my waist and locked together and she pushed my slacks down, then my boxers, unleashing my cock. She tickled the underside of the shaft with the pads of her fingers, then grabbed my balls and massaged them as I explored the sheer joy of touching her angular body. My fingers danced across her clavicles. One hand reached around to press flat against her shoulder blade and spine, the other hand slid behind her neck so that I could touch her jaw with my thumb.

Suddenly Carla bucked her hips, almost impatiently. Without warning I grabbed her legs behind the knees and draped them over my shoulders like a scarf, and thrust my dick into her tight, hot pussy. She cried out. I paused for a moment, acquainting myself with the sensation of being inside a bony vulva, then I rammed her as hard as I could, as fast as I could. She moaned each time I thrust back in, her face contorted in ecstasy and pain, her ribcage distending as her breathing spiraled out of control. I came inside of her with a sigh and Carla was left panting desperately, on the verge of climax but not satisfied. I thought about just walking out, but the sight of her so hot and bothered with my fingerprints bruised in to her skin made her irresistible. I got on the floor and shoved my face between her legs, holding on to Carla behind the knees. Her hips bucked as my tongue swirled around her labia, savoring a mixture of my cum and her pre-cum. I tongued her clit, then slid two fingers in to her pussy and fingerfucked her while sucking her clit until she orgasmed with "Oh, god yeah, YEAH!"

Now satiated, Carla seemed to melt in to the cushions, her body limp. We sat in silence together for ten minutes or so. I listened to Carla's breathing go from fast ragged to slow and even. She laid down again, and the movement seemed to require all of her effort. A small smile played on her lips.