Baggage

Nancy jogged naked on the treadmill.

She was miserably hot. Sweat beaded on every inch of her skin. Her bare feet were sore from thudding on the deck of the machine. Her breasts hurt slightly from the bouncing, but she did not stop.

Across her bedroom, Nancy could see herself in the mirror. That same mirror had, twenty years ago, reflected the sexiest little body west of the Mississippi. Now, the reflection had changed somewhat. Her breasts were full and round, but were sagging just a bit. Her ass was a little too big. And her thighs, well, Nancy preferred not to think about her thighs.

Nancy knew, logically, that the mirror still reflected a sexy body, especially for a woman her age. But all she could see was the young woman she was not - the young woman men had once worshipped. Their eyes used to stop on her, lingering on her form, undressing her. Now the looks passed her by, preferring to slide over to her daughter. And of course – why look at an aging mare when a beautiful filly pranced nearby?

Nancy turned the treadmill up a notch, increasing her pace, forcing her muscles to obey. Her breasts ached, her thighs burned, but she welcomed the pain. She knew the pain would keep her body supple, keep it young. And secretly, she was saving the pain, saving it for later. One day she’d catch a young man - the young clerk at the grocery store, or perhaps of the plumber’s assistant that sometimes came by. And then, when she’d snared him, and he wanted her like nothing else, she’d give him a little taste of her pain.

Suddenly a funny image popped into her brain: with every footfall, she was trampling a young man’s naked body underfoot. Nancy laughed in between breaths. What a twisted thing to think! And yet, somehow, it made her feel better. So she turned the treadmill up another notch, and proceeded to trample her way across a sea of prone young men.

~o~

The green Army trunk was heavy – too heavy for the plastic shelf it rested on. At some point the shelf would give, and the trunk would come crashing down.

Becky thought about that every time she entered the old tool shed. Her mother often sent her in to get a shovel, or drag out the lawn mower, or get a box of old books out. And every time, Becky would skirt the creaky plastic shelves carefully.

But this time she forgot.

She forgot about the heavy trunk for of a number of reasons. For one, she hadn’t been alone when she entered – a young man was with her. Also, after they slid the aluminum doors mostly shut, it was dark in the shed, and the trunk was lost in the gloom. Only a sliver of light cut through the darkness, illuminating a swirl of dust motes as the air was disturbed by the two people moving around.

As for Andre, he had no idea the heavy trunk was a danger. He was just excited to be alone with his girl for once, away from people. Especially Becky’s mother – the woman they both jokingly called the ‘Old Maid’.

For Andre, the term was only half in jest. He wasn’t sure, but there was something odd about Mrs. Wanek, some glint in her eye that made him feel uneasy. He didn’t like spending a lot of time around the woman, and had been wary when Becky suggested they play hooky from school and escape to the old shed on her property.

But Becky had always wanted to fool around in the shed. There was something secret and sexy about the place. As a young girl, it had been her clubhouse, her playtime sanctuary. Now, as a young woman, it was prime for a different kind of play.

Becky couldn’t see the young man in front of her, but she could feel him. His muscles were hard from a summer of work outdoors. She tugged at the buttons on his shirt, eager to feel his chest. She clawed at his belt, tugging his pants apart as she felt his rough lips press into hers. Soon, though she couldn’t see it, she knew a hard, naked male body was standing in front of her in the darkness of the shed.

Rough hands came out of the dark and started to pull up her sun-dress. It was getting hot in the shed, and Becky wanted to be naked too. The thin material was already clinging to her sweaty skin as he tugged it up her body. She raised her arms, and the dress slipped off. She wore no bra, and moments later her soaked underwear were on the dusty floor.

Andre heard Becky’s underwear hit the floor, and a thrill went through him. Becky leaned in for a kiss and he felt his member brushing between her naked thighs. A little line of electricity seemed to be arcing between their genitals, pulling them inexorably together.

Becky was wanton. She literally climbed onto Andre’s chest, wrapping her arms around his neck, throwing her legs around his waist. He grunted with the strain, and had to lean back to balance the weight. Then Andre lifted Becky up by the waist, letting her do the job of matching her wet opening to his stiff, probing length.

The head slipped in. Becky gasped. Her breasts squeezed against his chest, nipples erect and on fire. Her legs clamped across his back, and she wiggled a little, working the cock into her. Then Andre eased her body down, impaling her.

The pleasure climbed up through Becky’s body. She leaned farther onto Andre, adjusting the angle. She found a nice position, one that tickled her deep inside, and she let out a sigh of lustful satisfaction. She felt as if she could have lingered there, deeply penetrated, hanging onto that male body all afternoon.

But her own flesh had other ideas, and started to move of its own accord. Becky’s thighs flexed, rocking her pelvis up and down, inching Andre’s dick in and out of her pussy. Her sweat-slicked body slipped against his. The pleasure between her legs began to mount.

As Becky humped him, Andre did all he could to maintain his balance. Cautiously, he felt around behind him for some sort of support. His hand found what felt like an old clothes washer. He reached behind and put both hands on it, taking some of the weight off his back. It was the perfect position – leaning back, Becky could get more leverage to move her hips. She finessed her motions, massaging the inside of her channel with each stroke.

And with each stroke, the washer behind Andre shook a little. And as the washer shook, the shelves behind it shook.

And as the shelves shook, the heavy old trunk rocked back and forth.

~o~

Nancy heard something. It sounded like a crash, followed by a voice calling out in pain.

Her feet slowly thumped to a halt on the deck of the treadmill. She went to the window and peeked out through the curtains, down at the backyard. There was nothing to see. The strawberry patch, the green of the lawn, the old rusting swing-set. And beyond, miles of open field, dotted with a house or two.

Then Nancy noticed the tool shed. The lock was off, and the doors were open slightly. Her paranoia crackled to life – was there a burglar inside? She always kept the shed locked and badgered Becky to do the same.

Some women would have called the police, especially living so far from help. Nancy went straight for her dead husband’s baseball bat, which she kept under the bed. She pulled it out, wiped off a few cobwebs, and headed for the door, still naked and glistening with sweat. Almost as an afterthought, Nancy grabbed a cotton robe off the back of the bedroom door and tugged it on.

She crept slowly down the stairs, holding the bat firmly in her hands.

~o~

Becky tried again to lift the trunk, to no avail. It was just too heavy for her to budge.

“Do they hurt?” Becky asked, feeling in the dark for Andre’s hands.

“They did when it fell. Now they just ache.” Andre said, grimacing. He tried again to free his hands, but in his awkward position – leaning backwards, arms extended behind him - the leverage was bad. The trunk kept his hands pinned to the washer, and tugging just made them hurt.

Becky stepped nervously from foot to foot. The burning pleasure between her legs was fading, and a cold knot of fear was growing in her belly. What were they going to do?

Andre was wondering the same thing. The fire was likewise draining from his organ. He hadn’t come, and his balls ached from the unreleased pressure. That was the least of his concerns now, though.

“If I knew the combination on the trunk, we could open it and empty it out.” Becky said. Unfortunately, not even her mother knew the combo on the old trunk anymore. Becky sighed, arriving at the only conclusion left.

“I’m going to have to get help.” she said, looking at the sliver of light shining between the doors. She shuddered to think what her mother’s reaction would be if brought into the shed to help. The smell of sex was heavy in the air. In his position, Andre couldn’t get all his clothes back on. It would be all too clear what had been going on.

Andre looked at the crack between the doors too, thinking of the light that would pour in on him if those doors were opened. He suddenly felt very vulnerable. He was afraid of who she’d have to bring back to help. Her mother, his brother, a fireman – dear lord, all unacceptable. He racked his brain.

“No. Wait.” He said, having a flash. “All we need is a crowbar. You don’t have to be strong to use it – it’ll pry up the trunk just enough so I can pull my hands out.”

Becky looked around. For being a tool shed, there were remarkably few tools in it.

“I don’t think we-“ she started to say, but Andre cut her off.

“In my tool box, in the back of my truck.” Andre said.

“But we brought my car. Your truck is…” Becky trailed off, picturing the little truck sitting in Andre’s driveway, far away. It would take time, but it seemed like the only real option.

“Okay,” Becky said, nodding. “That’ll work.”

~o~

Bare feet padded across the grass in the back yard, making very little sound.

Nancy hefted the bat in her hands, relishing its weight. She could only imagine the kind of damage she could do with such a heavy piece of wood. If she was lucky, the burglar was an young attractive man, and she’d have the pleasure of spoiling his good looks.

She carefully skirted the area in front of the shed, avoiding the doors and the dark slit between them. Nancy minced up to the side of the aluminum structure and listened.

There was some rustling inside. Nancy wished she could peek in somehow. She looked around at the metal wall in front of her and discovered a series of small screw-holes at the base. They were tiny, but Nancy kneeled down in the grass and put her eye up to one, to see what she could see.

A body moved in and out of the light. Nancy caught a glimpse of the face and realized it was Becky! What was she doing home from school? Nancy was about to get up and accost her, when she saw another body in the shadows. It was a male body, and it was naked. Her eye now glued to the hole, Nancy scanned the rest of the scene. She saw the fallen trunk, spotted Becky’s underwear in a heap on the concrete floor, and put the pieces together.

Nancy seethed. On the surface it was out of protectiveness for her daughter. But underneath, she was insanely jealous. She remembered a time when she’d been the one naked in the shed, or sneaking off to the barn, or in the back of someone’s pickup truck. But that had been a long time ago indeed.

Inside, Becky fumbled around for her sun-dress. She tugged it down over her sweaty body, straightening it as best she could in the semi-darkness.

“You’ve got to hurry.” Andre said, tension in his voice. “I just don’t know what’ll happen if the Old Maid finds me like this.”

Nancy’s ears pricked up. Were they talking about her? Becky shook her head.

“Don’t worry. She never comes out here herself, she always sends me. Besides, I think the sight of a hot, naked young man would give her a stroke. So you’re safe either way.”

Nancy’s ears burned. Her knuckles went white on the baseball bat.

Becky leaned in and gave Andre a kiss. She meant it to be just a peck, but she couldn’t help extending it. She put her hands around his neck, her lips tangling with his in a deep kiss. Something about him, tied up and helpless, really turned her on. Becky disengaged from his lips and headed eagerly for the doors. She was looking forward to opening them and seeing him in the light, fully exposed. First, though, she peeked out, scanning the yard. Her mother didn’t seem to be around.

Meanwhile, the hot kiss had done its work on Andre. It felt delicious, but had also reminded him of his severe case of blue-balls. He desperately wanted to get his hands free, but his libido got the better of him.

“Hey, um, before you go. Do you think you could, just, ahh…take care of me here?”

Becky laughed out loud. Men were really something else.

She slid the doors open quietly. Bright sunlight flooded into the shed. Becky looked back at Andre. It was a sexy sight indeed – his naked, sweaty, muscular body was trapped in an awkward position, completely helpless.

“Sorry, baby, you’ll just have to wait until I get back. Okay?” She asked. But Andre barely heard her – the screaming bright sunlight had completely blinded him. He squinted at Becky, who was just a black silhouette against the light.

“Fine,” He groaned. “I’ll suffer, just close those doors, I can’t see a damn thing.”

“I’ll hurry.” Becky said, sliding the doors shut. At the last moment she quipped, “Don’t go anywhere.”

Andre grunted. His eyes hurt, his hands hurt, and his balls hurt. And he most certainly was not going anywhere.

~o~

Nancy watched her daughter jog across the back yard and head around the house. The little sneak must have parked down the road and come up through the fields, no doubt to avoid alerting the ‘Old Maid’. Nancy’s skin crawled at the term, and she felt deeply wounded by her daughter’s use of it.

Nancy would deal with her later, though. She had other things on her mind.

The moment Andre had complained of being blinded, Nancy’s gears had started to turn. They turned and turned, and cranked out a most twisted idea.

Nancy had daydreamed her share of twisted plots and plans. But of all those ideas - from seducing the grocery clerk into the back of her car at the grocery store, to tying up the plumber’s assistant with his roto-rooter hose - none of those fantasies thrilled her like the reality of what she was about to do.

Mastering herself, Nancy set the bat down in the grass carefully. She stepped up to the front of the shed. She knew she had to act quickly or she’d miss her chance, so, taking a deep breath, she yanked on the sliding aluminum doors.

Andre’s eyes had been wide open, his irises fully dilated when the bright sunlight poured in. He was immediately blinded, squinting with pain. Then Nancy slid the doors closed quickly, plunging the room into darkness.

She waited a moment, breathless. Had it worked?

Andre blinked, thankful for the darkness. His eyes had not even recovered from the first shock, and now they hurt doubly. His hands, of course, still hurt as well. But he had a feeling his other problem - the one between his legs - was about to be assuaged.

“Had a change of heart, huh?” Andre whispered to the spot he imagined Becky was standing in.

In that spot, Nancy grinned wickedly.

The image of the naked, immobile young man was burned on her corneas from the momentary flash she had seen. His body was firm and tight, young and muscular. He was naked, in an awkward position, and trapped. And most importantly, in his lap hung a heavy, swollen erection and two apparently aching balls. Nancy silently thanked whatever gods had seen fit to grace her with such easy prey.

Nancy inched her way forward in the dark, one hand extended towards the area she knew Andre to be in. Her fingertips connected with something. She dragged them across the flesh tentatively, and identified it as Andre’s pectoral muscle. Nancy caressed it, marveling at it’s hardness.

“Uh, a little lower?” Andre hinted sarcastically. Nancy smirked. She purposely kept her hand high, dragging her fingernails across his shoulders and down his bicep.

“I thought you came back to help?” Andre whined. Nancy almost giggled. Finally, she let her hand drift down his chest, into his lap. Her palm brushed against the swollen head. Nancy’s breath sucked in involuntarily – it was the first cock she had touch in ages.

“Yeah…’ Andre sighed, as Nancy’s fingers curled around his shaft. In the utter darkness, Nancy couldn’t see it, but it felt bigger than it had looked. She caressed it carefully, tracing the veins, mapping it out in her mind.

Andre wiggled, flexing his leg muscles, trying to get her hand into a regular stroking rhythm. But Nancy demurred, only pumping occasionally.

“Come on, please…” Andre begged. Nancy’s grin was from ear to ear. She wanted to tease him verbally, make him beg and beg, but she knew her voice would be a giveaway. So finally she licked her hand, and began to stroke the meat in front of her.

She pumped it carefully, slipping her hand up and down the shaft but avoiding the really sensitive area behind the head. Andre kept trying to move his body to assist her, but Nancy denied him. After pumping the cock evenly for a little while, she switched hands, knowing her left would be awkward and unable to maintain a very good stroke.

Andre moaned in frustration. He was enjoying the hands on his cock, but the sensations were maddeningly uneven. His balls felt like they were going to burst. He decided a hand job wasn’t going to cut it.

“Come on, you know what I want.” Andre hissed.

Nancy was pretty sure she did know. She wondered, though, if Andre would be able to tell the difference between her mouth and her daughter’s. She also knew she could play with him longer – and so cause him more grief - with her hand.

Yet, all ideas of torture aside, it had been a long time since she had serviced a man that way, and her mouth was hungry for cock. Licking her lips, Nancy decided to risk it.

Nancy got on her knees, careful not to touch Andre’s spread legs. She leaned forward, mouth open, and probed the darkness with her tongue. The tip of it connected with the underside of Andre’s shaft, and he jumped with the wet, hot contact.

“Oh yeah…” Andre moaned.

Nancy knew she had to be careful not to give him too much pleasure – that would defeat the purpose of torture. But she couldn’t resist wrapping her lips over the head and sucking his cock into her mouth. Once inside, she just held it there, feeling the heavy thing resting on her tongue.

Andre again bucked his hips as best as he could, trying to stroke into the mouth in front of him. What was Becky doing, he wondered? He had assumed she came back to relieve him, but he was starting to get the feeling she was just messing around.

“You better hurry.” Andre said. “If the Old Maid comes out and catches you with my cock in your mouth, you’re going to be grounded forever.”

That was the wrong thing to say, Nancy thought grimly. She promptly dragged her teeth across the tender head.

“OW!” Andre cried, spasming. Nancy smiled. But before Andre could complain further, she started sucking his cock in earnest. Nancy drove the head in and out of her tight lips, and Andre’s anger slipped away.

“Oh yeah, like that…” He sighed.

Nancy immediately changed her stroke to spite him.

Andre twisted around uncomfortably, trying to regain the sensations. Nancy denied him, though, and instead corkscrewed her mouth around the head repeatedly. After a bit of struggling, Andre adjusted and seemed to get into it. Nancy felt a squirt of precum on her tongue.

“Oh god, I’m close.” Andre said. His cock started to throb, his balls clenched.

Nancy yanked her mouth off his cock. She could picture it in front of her, bobbing helplessly, red and swollen. She found it wickedly satisfying.

“Pleeease…’ Andre whimpered as his orgasm dissipated. This was starting to get really old.