Chloe and Cy Pt. 06

He was holding up the king-sized candy bar. I pulled him in and squinted some of the Gojo in his hands.

"The chocolate is for afterward," I said. "Was up."

"After?" He asked, turning on the hot water.

I unzipped again and produced the lube and larger plug. "Think I'm ready to level up?"

He shook his head. "You're a freak," he said. "I worry about the boys you've emotionally scared at college."

I smiled. "They weren't as fun as this," I said. "If you help me put it in now, we can park and neck and maybe, if you're extra nice..." I said. "You know all the make-out spots, I assume? The ones the cops don't check?"

He glowered at me.

"What's that look?"

He shook his head in defeat and stripped to the waist. The oil on his hands had ended up under his collar and up to his elbows after he'd rolled up his sleeves. He began scrubbing. I watched for a few moments before asking. "Ever read D.H. Lawrence?"

He lathered both hands and forearms, scrubbing without looking at me. "Mellors, the gamekeeper?"

I smiled, leaning against the wall beside the sink and fiddling with the plug. "One of these days, I'm stumping you."

He cleared his throat. "the man was washing himself, utterly unaware. He was naked to the hips, his velveteen breeches slipping down over his slender loins. And his white slim back was curved over a big bowl of soapy water, in which he ducked his head, shaking his head with a queer, quick little motion, lifting his slender white arms, and pressing the soapy water from his ears, quick, subtle as a weasel playing with water, and utterly alone."

"I'm still not sure if it's sexy or creepy how you just memorize things," I said.

"I'm not sure I like being compared to a weasel," he shrugged, taking some towels from the dispenser and drying himself. "We're both going to smell like orange juice and cotton candy," he said.

"Not a bad combination," I said, kissing the tip of the plug before handing it to him.

He shook his head as I leaned over the sink basin.

I peeled my Wonder Woman briefs down and propped my elbows on the sink. My eyes met his in the mirror's reflection. His coveralls fell around the hips of his jeans, and I really hated his foresight to wear pants beneath.

"I'm thinking about your dick," I sighed.

"Shut up and hold still," he said.

I felt his fingers take hold of the small plug and pull it gently out. I felt my muscles remain slightly loose. He reached around me and rinsed the little plug in hot water from the sink before letting it clatter into the basin. His hips, still clad in his jeans, pressed against my right ass cheek as he kept massaging my backdoor.

"Your back is neither white nor slim," I said, wincing at the pressure, feeling my cunt cry out for him. I looked at the little metal thing winking at the bottom of the sink.

Don't beg. Distract yourself.

"It's more like weathered parchment, your skin. And your back is like Rodan, a topographic map of muscled hills."

I smelled cotton candy then felt the cold lube and his fingers again. Warming quickly against my anus. This time a finger slid easily in, and I moaned. "Ah, shit," I said.

"It's okay," he said. "Just relax."

"And your chest," I continued, as I felt him work the finger softly against my ring.. "the hair is that dark black stuff that looks like it should be coarse but isn't. It's soft, like goose-down."

A second finger. "Ah," I sighed. "And there's none on your back. How do you manage that? Ugh, Jesus, I can't stand it!"

He paused.

What was I saying?

"I want..."

I'm not falling for him.

Cy

Once again, she let out a grunting sigh that was three sizes too big for her.

It was unnerving, to say the least. It was as if she'd discovered herself letting out some half-composed love sonnet.

She breathed and nodded. "It would hurt, wouldn't it?"

I slid the plug into place, watching her ass accept it.

"Give that a bit," I said, moving to wash my hands as she stood and shrugged her arms back into her coveralls.

She met my eyes in the mirror. "I nearly begged," she said.

"But it would have hurt," I said.

"Fuck," she exhaled. "Your fingers..." She mock-shivered, taking the Hershey bar out of my coveralls. "I'll be in the car."

She shot the bolt open on the door and bounced out into the growing twilight.

I washed my hands, and then the little butt-plug thoroughly clean. I pocketed the little plug and the small container of lube, sighing heavily.

"Mur-der," I said to my reflection.

You'd do anything to keep her from feeling pain.

I returned the key to the attendant and joined her in the car. The engine was running, and she was listening to Nina Simone, twirling a finger through her short red hair with a look on her face that would have stalled the engine.

I turned down the music.

"Stop that," I said. "You'll go bald."

"You probably think I'm a total dork," she said. "Just rhapsodizing like that? I mean, I've seen you shirtless countless times. Mowing the lawn in the summer. Fixing shingles on the garage. Who just starts talking like that? Was it just to keep my mind off of..." She looked down.

"Your nose," I said with a sigh.

"What?"

"You have this little pointed nose that doesn't match your face. But it's got freckles on either side of it, and when you're frustrated, you get a little crinkle in your brow just above the bridge."

I shifted the car into first and pulled out of the station.

"Why are you telling me this?"

"Because I don't think you're a dork, Chloe," I said, shifting the car into second and heading around a curve back towards town. "You told me what drives you nuts about me. I think I should be able to tell you what drives me bonkers about you. And the short hair..."

"That makes me look like someone from a horror movie?"

I sighed. "That's not what I said nor what I meant."

"What did you mean?" She leaned in close, bringing her knees up and resting her sneakers on the bucket seat.

"That you could tempt the devil," I said, hitting third gear.

Chloe

I nodded.

So we were both losing it. He was trying not to feel for me what I was trying not to feel for him.

"So how old was Mia Farrow when she married Frank Sinatra?" I asked.

He laughed. "Jesus, kid."

"What? I'm making conversation."

I snuggled up against him, watching his hand on the shifter. "You're just fun to mess with, Mr. Encyclopedia."

He still smelled like motor oil, and, yes, there was an overpowering aroma of orange juice.

"You're letting me cuddle," I said.

Cy

It felt so right.

"I am," I said.

It was not right. It was wrong. But we had blown through all the stop signs on the road to wrong, hadn't we? We'd passed wrong half a world ago.

The engine hummed smoothly as I down-shifted to second and turned off the paved road into a country lane several miles outside of town. It was growing dark. All the properties were farmland owned by big-Agra firms with crews only working from midnight to four in the mornings during summer.

I geared down to a stop by a farm stream far away from the dirt road just as the last strands of sunlight played through the pine and maple trees. I killed the engine.

She felt so still like she was about to fall to sleep against me.

"What did you think we should buy for Jo's Anniversary?" she asked.

I smiled. "Well, leather denotes games," I said.

"So?"

"A pair of mother-daughter softball mitts," I said.

She burst into laughter. "You are such a corndog!"

'What? It's leather. Besides, you should have seen her last month when I stopped her and Numbnuts going 15 over the posted limit. Licking her lips like I was a human lambchop. She's producing enough estrogen for two."

"She said something today. Every woman has had an older man fantasy. Did you ever have one?"

"An older man fantasy?"

"Twat," she said. "I mean, an older woman. But if you're fluid...."

"Har har," I considered. "Mrs. Mayfield."

"Mrs. Mayfield?"

"Sixth grade," I said. "She would have been, maybe 26-28? She was my home-room teacher in middle school when I was 10. She assigned me a lot of extra reading to keep me occupied during class when I was ahead of everybody."

"You got a thing for women and books, huh?"

I shrugged. "She had me read Sherlock Holmes and Mark Twain and Jane Austen and Charles Dickens... and every book I finished, she'd keep me after school and just let me talk about them.

"Like Miss Honey?" I asked.

"Miss who?"

I lifted my head. "The teacher in Matilda," I said. "Roald Dahl?"

His expression was blank.

I sat up, smiling. "You know Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, Fantastic Mr. Fox, The Witches?"

He shrugged.

I narrowed my eyes at him. "You're just pretending, aren't you?"

He kept the expression even for as long as he could before cracking a guilty smirk. "Can't blame a guy for trying."

I slugged him.

"Ouch!" He laughed. "Never do anything by halves if you want to get away with it. Be outrageous."

"And now you're fucking quoting it? Oh, you are going down, old man!"

Cy

Her back muscles were in tight knots, and she was grinding her teeth as she lunged at me. I shook my head, accepting her playfully pummeling fists.

I caught her wrists and kissed her. She calmed, drinking my kiss with her eyes closed. "Is it stupid for us to be this outrageous?"

She nodded, keeping her eyes half-closed. "Dangerously stupid."

I brought her thin pale knuckles up and ran them softly over my lips. "When there's nothing here but the chirp of cicadas and the clicking of the cooling engine, and I can feel your body through this thin mechanic's smock, I only know I want you. And there are several circles of hell waiting... But for now, I want you."

She exhaled, opening her eyes. "I more than want you," she said. "Cy, do you... Love me?"

"It's wrong," I kissed.

"I know," she said. "But why aren't we... stopping?"

"I've no idea."

Chloe

He was kissing me. For the first time, he kissed me. And it was full and tender and filled with the hunger, the torment, the warmth I had been fighting for so long.

The simple kisses I had fantasized about had always been ones fueled by common lust and adolescent hormones. But this kiss, as I felt the zipper on my coveralls dance down to just below my navel; this kiss had a tang of something more.

I came up for air. "Ouch," I said.

"What?"

"This whole damned affair," I smiled. "It's been one big 'Ouch, stop that. You're hurting me' until now."

Hearing Jo talk about him, even as a joke. Buying toys while thinking of him. Feeling his lips, his fingers, tasting him on my tongue. Him driving past me in his cruiser and waving. Ouch. Him talking to any other woman. Ouch. Him not fucking me every five minutes: ouch, ouch, ouch. Ouch. OUCH. OUCH!

A million little reminders every goddamned second of how bad I wanted him.

Now.

"I'm sorry, Cy," I said. "I didn't mean to... but I."

I felt his warm hand on my abdomen. "Stop," he said. "Don't say."

I felt myself screaming inside.

I could die happy with that big warm paw of his just resting against my skin!

I felt him nuzzle my neck. The light whiskers were, at last, a decent 5 o'clock shadow that coupled with his soft lips caused my skin to prickle. "It'S killing me," I sighed. "Don't let me die, though. I need your kisses. At least a hundred million more before we both have to wake up."

"Who talks like that?"

"Fuck you," I moaned. "I'm eloquent."

He kissed down the length of my collar bone. And his hand on my stomach drifted south with my own hand on top of it.

"God, just your damn hand cupping me," I said. "I need to moan something, Cy. I need to moan something that's just ours."

I felt his fingers delve gently into my Wonder Woman panties that were already sodden with anticipation. I felt him kiss down my belly as my own hand found the leaver popping the bucket seat back as far as it would go.

"It'll come to you," he said.

First his finger, then his mouth kissing my little rose tattoo before drifting south. I cooed as his tongue gently probed my clit. "Ah...haaa...haa..." I shuttered, squirming, fighting it coming so soon because of the fullness I felt in my ass.

He paused, and I wanted to kill him.

"More!" I sobbed. "Please, Cy."

He felt my hands pressing the back of his head into me, and with each flick, each suck, every wiggle of his thick fingers on my clit and his tongue moving into my pussy, I twitched until I screamed out into the twilight, gripping the car door as I ground myself into his face.

I came down from the rapture, my arms out of the sleeves of my coveralls in a flash, grabbing him to me, fumbling with the zipper at his neck.

"More," I demanded, clawing his coveralls open. "All of you! Now!"

Cy

When I was young, I'd had a great grandfather who had come to America from Carrickfergus on Belfast Lough in Northern Ireland.

I remember he'd lived only the first ten years of his life there before he immigrated in 1925.

It was he who used to tell me stories at bedtime, leaning heavily on his cane to rest his creaking bones on the edge of my bed. I remembered his warnings of toadstool rings and faerie courts. Of following the Pooka into the woods or up into the cliffs. Of banshee wails and faerie wyles.

I know it was a weird thought to have, but the flash in her emerald-green eyes and the hunger and power with which her small hands gripped my frame, I swear it was otherworldly.

But once she jammed herself up in her coveralls trying to get them over her pink Chuck's, I laughed as she clumsily fell back into the passenger seat, bumping her head on the dash.

"Fuck!" She swore.

I laughed, grabbing her sneakers. "Smooth, Kid."

I got a flash from those eyes.

"I know," I said. "But it's hard not to call you 'kid' when you're still a klutz."

She held up her sneaker, defeated. "A little help?" she sighed.

I undid the laces on her shoes and tugged them off her bare feet.

She rubbed the back of her head, climbing back up in her seat. "Kinda cuts my 'sexy,' doesn't it?"

I shook my head, eyeing the silk bra and boy-cut briefs. "Maybe just shaves some of the sharp edges smooth," I said.

She wiggled on her butt a little, drawing one foot free of her coveralls and up into the air to show off one smooth white limb a light-year long.

"How can you be 80-percent legs?"

"Trade-off for the skeeter-bite tits," she shrugged.

"Who said that?"

"Freddy Silknitter in Junior High."

"Well," I shrugged. "In Junior High--Not that I was looking...."

She bit her forefinger. For the first time in hours, I thought of Christine. I thought of scandal and sin and hell.

"Don't bite your nails," I said.

"I'm anxious," she said. "You have that look on your face."

"What look?"

"Like you're thinking of telling me the truth but also not telling me," she said.

All the shit that was bothering me came to a head, and then, as she forced herself to stop chewing her nail, it dissolved.

I shrugged out of the sleeves of my coveralls. "Fuck it," I said. "Help me out of mine?"

She smiled as I climbed out of the car and started unlacing my boots. She grabbed hold, tugged off the first, and then helped me with the second.

She came up on her knees in the driver's seat, her elbow hitting the horn.

*Beep

"Ooh, shit."

"Don't worry. The nearest house is four miles off."

"Really? Does that mean nobody can hear us scream?"

She pinched me under my left nipple, and I yelped.

"Ouch! Stop being a brat."

She pushed the coveralls down and undid my belt and zipper.

There was a sudden rustling and movement off to the far right of the car. A twig snapped. Both Chloe and I tensed. She grabbed for her coveralls.

In a moment, I flipped on the headlights. A doe and her young fawn appeared in the headlights. They looked at us with curious innocence.

"Surveillance deer," I said. "I hate those."

I tossed my coveralls in the wheel well of the passenger seat and tipped the bucket seat forward, climbing in the back. "Kill the lights, huh?"

"What about the music?"

I stood and twisted the key so the stereo would work but killed the lights.

"Spooky," she said from the front seat, selecting a song. "X-ambassadors," she said, standing and unhooking her bra. "Boom."

I reached around her and fished a flashlight out of the glove compartment. "Any monster's come hit them with that."

She lightly tapped my shoulder. "Ineffective," she said.

The song had a nice beat.

"So now I'm a monster?" I said.

"Beastly," she leaned in. "By the way, this song is wishful thinking on my part."

A bug landed on her shoulder. She jumped.

"Relax," I said, extending a finger to let the little winged beetle climb onto my fore-nail. "Coleoptera Lampyridae."

It glowed as it walked onto my finger. "Otherwise known as our friendly Firefly. You know when the moon comes out, it being so soon after a storm, there'll be thousands of them winking around in the twilight."

"How often have you parked with a girl?"

"The last time? She might have had a slap bracelet, and it was after seeing Ghostbusters 2 at a Drive-In."

"Were you a man-whore in your twenties?"

"No," I said. "That would have been my late teens."

"Are the deer still watching us?"

"They left." The lightning bug also took flight, humming off into the high trees.

"Good, because I didn't want that little baby one judging us."

My cock came out in her hands, she brought her mouth down, and I held on to the leather cover over the droptop and the rear of the passenger driver's seat, looking at the moon through the thick leaves and branches of a New England Oak.

Oh, it was a pleasure to burn.

Chloe

His body tensed as I drew him into my mouth, using both hands to slick him up nice and proper. He had been hot in that jumpsuit with his jeans beneath, but the flavor of his cock head on my tongue made my eyes roll back as I swirled it around.

Mine.

Inch by inch, I tested how far I could take him, feeling him swell to full size between my lips.

He eventually relaxed his muscles, all the resistance sighing out of him as more and more I felt him forgetting the outside world and focusing on just us, alone, miles from reality, in the back of that beautiful car, with just the moon, an old police flashlight, and the music.

His hand came to the small of my back, and I moaned around his cock. Just to feel him touch me! Then it drifted down the back of my panties.

I grudgingly let his cock fall from my mouth. "You think I'm ready for this?"

I stood and felt his hands slide my panties down for me. I kicked out of them, steadying myself with one hand on his bare shoulder.

I wanted more of his cock in my mouth, but instead, I felt his massive sinewy hand go up between my legs and grip a thigh, turning me.

I brought a foot up onto the side of the car, near the door, and felt him run his fingers through my hot sex. Then they found the hilt of the little plug, and with a few gentle wiggles, it popped free from my ass.

There was a new, almost startlingly electric feeling. He kissed my pucker and started to guide it lightly. I felt my knees weaken, but he kept me upright, his powerful hand cupping my sex, the other one holding my abdomen as I forced my arms to keep me upright.

"I don't want you to beg," I squeaked. "I'm ready."

His tongue probed, and I trembled under the glaring moon. He was warm and gentle with his tongue, yet he reached deeply like he'd somehow lost a tic-tac in there.

"Cy?"

"Hmm?"

"Seriously? Am I the one about to beg?" I quivered.

He gently pulled me back, positioning me just so. And then I felt him. Thicker than the toy had been, but slightly softer.

The head of his cock met some resistance at first, but as I adjusted the angle, he sank slowly deeper.