Popping The Bubble

"Of course they do." I winked at the camera. "It's been a few episodes since the Bubbles got popped. Thanks, friends!" I blew a kiss at the lens, backing off to make sure I put my boobs in the frame before turning toward Tyler. "I wonder if the audience knows how badly I want your balls in my mouth?" I pondered aloud. "I probably shouldn't mention that I'd do it for free." I gave the camera one last wink, a cute one over my shoulder, then strutted over to my lover for the evening. "How're you doing?"

"I'm doing great." He lounged easily, his arm along the back of the couch with his legs sprawled out, his whole body on display. Goddamn, I loved a confident man! "Come sit with me."

"Of course." I sank down between his thighs like the submissive slut I instinctively figured most of the audience wanted me to be tonight, laying my body across his with a possessive hand tracing along his abs. "You're fucking beautiful," I raved. Bubbles and the Whang were known for their honesty.

"Not compared to you." His finger had already found my nipple, sending a buzz through me even before El got the audience requests all sorted out. "Ready when you are, Bubbles."

"People want to see you eat her out," Elliot observed, "but maybe we should build to that?"

"I don't see why," I purred, my lips already skating along his chest. He smelled so good, a deep jolt of male sweat prodding directly at my sex drive. My hips already undulated softly against him without any input from my conscious brain, my skin attuned to every motion of his body. I gave a throaty laugh when I felt his cock twitch. "You don't see why, either." My voice was a husky promise of the paradise I could offer him, my whole being already sold to this part of the job.

I was going to let this man have me any way he wanted. I hunched low and whispered in his ear, "I don't fake it." His fingers flexed on my ass, and I knew I was in for a winner.

"They really want to see it," Elliot called out, so I took over and crawled up his body, feeling his muscles between my thighs as he took the hint and scooted down to lie on the couch. Plainly, we saw no point in waiting. I shuddered when his hands found my ass, tracing its curves, handling it with something that felt like reverence as he pulled me up his chest. "Well. There you go," Elliot laughed, finally glancing up.

But he was no longer there for me. It got this way sometimes... rarely, to be honest. Usually this whole Sloppy Seconds thing was nothing but a gig, an enjoyable one, but a gig nonetheless. Tonight, I could already tell, was going to be art. I savored his body under mine, his breath on my mound, my own zero-to-sixty transformation from "mildly aroused," through "flat-out horny" and straight to "wanton whore" with no pause, no segue, just the rising lust behind my pussy and the firmness of my fingers in his hair, pulling him up so he could eat me.

Behind me, in an increasingly distant part of my awareness, I could hear El's laptop going apeshit with wild chimes. Each one of those was money in my pocket, but I'd think about that later.

His tongue found me first, spearing out hard and ready toward my flesh: nothing about Tyler was passive. He timed it just right, mouth on my cunt and fingertips slipping into my asscrack, pulling me into his mouth with the kind of power that reminds you you might think you're in charge... but you're not. It's all him. His needs. His wants. His desires.

And he wanted me.

The realization swept me along even as his tongue trawled my slit, bottom to top, lapping at me with bulldog ferocity. I was already biting my tongue, but it was no use: a low, keening moan came bursting out of me, smashing aside my brief glance at Grundle, sneaking in with the handheld to get my pubes on Tyler's face in hi-def. I sensed his strength and knew not to hold back, spreading my thighs to drive my mound directly into his face, trying to crush him the way you'd crush a bug... only this bug was made of marble, or titanium, a rock against which my pussy lips ground helplessly, desperately, my clit already singing as it brushed his nose.

The audience would all have their dicks in their hands already.

Kinkytime had been a success for a few reasons, but one of the major ones was because I had no real difficulty finding an orgasm. Which meant the main reason the couch so often needed a shampoo was more me than Elliot, and my first one today was already on its way. The pace of the laptop chimes accelerated, Grundle's unblinking eye greedy for images as I rode Tyler's face with fluid, controlled grinds of my vulva against his beard-scruff.

I heard a sharp crack, then Grundle moved into my peripheral vision, slinking aside to get a look at an ass left jiggling from Tyler's slap. I was not necessarily into spankings, but I was not necessarily not into spankings either, and Tyler had read me just as clearly as I'd read him when I'd collapsed on top of his nose: the guy had a good sense for what I could stand.

It moved my orgasm even closer, knowing I was in such good hands. I liked it when I knew I could give in and relax. I made up my mind to kick El's ass later for hogging this dude last time. His lips locked around my clit now, sucking, and I wasn't even surprised when another sharp smack on my buttcheek signaled the arrival of my climax, rolling toward me, unstoppable as a British battalion entering some Victorian landmass, and I closed my eyes and gave up.

My body arched high, propped on arms that had at some point rooted themselves to Tyler Schiff's legs, and I let out one of those theatrically sobby moans as he plunged his triumphant nose against my clit and then planted his tongue firmly up against my g-spot.

I rode myself through it, hips in rhythm over his face, knowing the camera was seeing a wildly orgasmic slut on top of a gorgeous piece of man. Knowing we were making huge money. Feeling my body explode, like all of me was flying around the room, then contract back into a tight, harshly-focused point right where his tongue met my cunt. "Whang?" I gasped, not turning around as Tyler continued to lap calmly at my snatch, "how much for me to lick my pussy off this guy's face?"

I heard him laugh, fingers tapping, then a pause. "Hundred-twenty," he crowed back, and I gave a shaky sigh as I pushed myself back upright, then hitched my pelvis back over his chest. He gazed back up at me, content, his face glimmering with what he'd sucked out of me. "No. More. More people are getting in on it now." He sounded smug as he typed his sass back to the audience, no doubt hard as a rock himself.

He always enjoyed it when I came.

It would have been so easy to just keep scooting backward, moving my hole down to a cock I knew would be straining already, to leave my trail down Tyler's abs and just park myself right over his meat. But no. This was business, and there was cash coming in. "Thank you, Tyler," I winked, arching the other way with my knees astride his torso, my face hovering over his. "That was nice." I didn't particularly like how I tasted, but that didn't stop me from flattening my tongue and moving it in great, carving trails up along his chin and jaw, cleaning him like a cat after a meal.

"Wasn't bad." He nipped at me playfully as my mouth went by, wanting a kiss, but I jerked my head back. "What? Do I have bad breath or something?"

Even Grundle chuckled at that one. "People pay good money for kisses, hon," I winked. "Best not to waste it. Hey! Whang!" I called as I made another pass along his jawline; he squirmed, ticklish. "See what people will pay for me to play with his dick." I could feel it pressing against me from beneath; I mean, that was obvious. Of course I could feel it. The thing was big and very, very hard. "I'd do it for free, but what's the fun in that?" I whispered to him, finishing up on his face.

"Yeah," he agreed vaguely. His hand rested lazily on my butt, a dreamy look on his face. Guys always love it when they know they've made you cum, especially right off the bat; the pressure was off him now. "Probably should have tried to pop the Bubbles the time before."

"Damn straight," I yawned, reckless with my hand running around his nuts, but not over them. Not for free. "My ass is tighter than the Whang's," I laughed.

"Bullshit!" El piped up at once. "My shits are like ribbons." We all giggled. "Ready for something else? I'm being destroyed here; there are like five suggestions per second."

"Buncha pervs, buddying us." I shook my head. I risked a quick flick of his shaft, the thing rising over his belly like a battleship gun. "Ready when you are, Ty," I sang, internal fireworks still snapping through my synapses.

"I mean, I think it's pretty obvious I'm interested in a little something," he mocked, gesturing toward his penis.

"That thing is downright threatening," I agreed. I wanted it. I wanted it in my mouth, clasped in my sweaty hand. I wanted it poking at my asshole. I wanted it deep, deep up me, pulsing in my pussy.

Pulsing in my pussy, I mused to myself, the poetry finding me once more. Pulsing in my pussy stands the turgid todger... I laughed.

"What's funny?" Tyler shifted on the wide couch, dick swaying ponderously.

"Nothing. Just some alliterative verse," I shrugged, suddenly bashful. "A little bit Anglo-Saxon in style, maybe." Not really, my former-English-major mind screamed at me; there's no caesura! "It's nothing. My mind wanders sometimes." I gave him a small kiss on the corner of his mouth.

"Sounds fucking sexy," he laughed lightly, but by then Elliot was calling the next dance, his chime sounding almost continuously, and it was time to go back to work.

* * *

Wrestling, twisting bodies coil

In mutual need:

The restless lassitude of the body,

The mindlessness of the coital mind.

* * *

"I'd have taken your load, you know," I apologized, feeling myself blush with the admission. "Inside. But it's against show policy."

He flashed me that smile again. He'd been doing that a lot over the past half-hour as he'd plundered the shit out of me. "It's not a problem." His voice had that masculine gloat men get when they know they've shown what great lovers they are. "Gives us something to do after dinner on Friday."

It took me about four solid seconds to figure out what he meant. "Wait. You're asking me out?" I was sponging his semen carefully off my lower back, where he'd just barely been able to leave it after pulling out a heartbeat away from unloading inside my cooch.

"Of course. Zimbardo's. I'll pick you up at seven." I couldn't believe his confidence. "I'll understand if you don't want to give me your address. Can't be too careful, you know..."

"Quannack Hall, room 424. My door code is 68822." I'm certain I was giving him those huge, shining Disney eyes as I felt my grin spread. "If you want, I'll also give you my social security number, birthdate, and mother's maiden name."

Jesus, even his chuckle was sexy. "We'll wait on all that. Got to save some mystery for the second date." We'd been whispering, almost, which I didn't even realize until he cleared his throat. "Are we good? I need to get home. I've got a game tomorrow." He said tomorrow the Canadian way too, which gave my pussy an unexpected surge.

"We're better than good! We're rich!" Elliot sat there beaming, his dick standing up. "That was hot."

I glanced over at Tyler, then both of us looked down by his laptop. His cock was hard enough to cast a sundial shadow across the keyboard. "Yeah. I can tell you think so," I snickered. I hadn't felt this good in weeks, which put me in the mood to poke fun. "Might want to take care of that."

"Go for it," he winked, setting the laptop aside before spreading his arms to take in both Tyler and I. "Hey! Why not both of you? I can film it and we can throw it on the Pit!"

"Can't, bro," Tyler shrugged, jacking his own package, "I'm a little drained, you know? I need a shower and an iced coffee."

"Yeah, and you already know my answer," I winked. "You're about a year and a half too late, especially after I just took this thing." I reached over and joined Tyler, giving his junk a squeeze of my own. "I'm officially oversexed, plus I've got a fucking summary due tomorrow." I felt a twinge of genuine grief when I let go of that dick of Tyler's. "See you, Ty."

"Later, Christa." He nodded at El. "Next time, huh?"

We left him there with Elliot's poor, unattended penis waving high, following Grundle out the front door. But Tyler stopped at the door and waited for me to turn. "Yeah?" I blinked.

"What's your last name, Christa?"

I cocked my head. "I'll tell you if you actually show up on Friday at seven, Tyler Schiff." I pushed a tendril of hair behind my ear.

"Room 424. 68822," he smiled, and given the depravity Tyler and I had just been engaged in on camera, it might be difficult to understand why I flushed when he leaned in and gave me a slow, warm kiss as we hit the sidewalk.

But I did.

* * *

It might never come another time,

But it might never come even once:

The needy wish for that endless chime,

Of rhythm, bodies heaving like the surf.

* * *

I'd forgotten I'd given Tyler my doorcode, which was why it was a little odd to see him open my door and come striding in at 6:50 on Friday. My eyes widened in my mirror until I processed who he was and what he was doing here, then I smiled.

"Hi, handsome." He was, too, in dark Luckies and what looked like a slightly elderly Tommy Bahama shirt. His eyes were not on my face, but given what I was wearing, that wasn't unexpected. "Nice boots."

"Thank you." They looked like ostrich? I'm no expert on cowboy boots, but they sure weren't normal leather. "I love these, and they sound cool when you're walking. Ominous."

"Yep. Like something big is coming," I winked, letting him get the joke. "Take a seat on Jenn's bed. I'll be ready in a sec." I'd just gotten my underwear sorted out when he'd busted in, so I was in nothing but black lace bottom to top: thigh-highs, thong, and bra, with my dress just about ready to fall over my head. "This is the most you've seen me wearing, which is impressive."

"Yeah." He sat gingerly on the very edge of my roommate's bed, still smiling as he looked at my body. "You look really good. Like, good enough to pay decent money for at a club."

"I'll take that as a compliment," I simpered. I put a little extra arch in my back, just to let him know I appreciated it. But he wasn't quite done.

"You should just leave the dress off. We can stay here and fuck."

"Nah. I'm hungry. And you promised me Zimbardo's." I pulled the dress over my head, then eased it down over my body. "This thing's fucking tight, both literally and figuratively. We're both going to have the hottest date in the place." I smoothed as I went, hauling the material over my hips. It had been a thong or boyshorts, and his eyes told me I'd made the right choice. "Some people look better in clothes, you know. Like a frame for a picture."

"Yeah," he said again, "I guess. It's just weird seeing you covered up. You look so fucking good nude." I smiled at him, still in the mirror, and tugged the dress where it need to be tugged. His eyes finally rose as I gathered my hair to clear my neck.

"Zip me up?" The dress was my favorite, rouched just right and still allowing me to breathe. I didn't wear it much, but then I wasn't really a dater. I was pleased it still fit so well. He loomed behind me as he fiddled with the zipper, and I tried hard not to close my eyes when I smelled him. I knew I'd be lucky not to wreck my thong, and we hadn't even left yet. I felt the dress cocoon around me as he worked the zipper higher, his finger tracing the line of my spine as it passed.

"You're shivering."

"You made me cum so easily on air," I admitted softly. "Just one of those things."

"Ah." He reached the top. "So, wait, you're cumming now?"

I did close my eyes then, and I no longer cared that he saw it in the mirror. "I could."

"Have you always been like that? So sexual?" He stood there with his hands on my shoulders, tracing my skin. "A lot of women don't do it that easily."

"Even with you?" I smiled, daydreaming, then sighed. "Back off so I can get my makeup done. No need to be in a rush." I started on my face, talking to him as I went. "Always. I've never had trouble with orgasms."

"You picked a good career for yourself, then." He took his seat on Jenn's bed again, more comfortably this time, then frowned when he saw my scowl. "What? What'd I say?"

"This isn't a career, Tyler." I twisted my fingers, working my eyelashes. "Not even a little. This is paying my way through school." I patted my mound. "This pussy is not a permanent commodity."

"Oh?" He blinked.

"No." I finished with my lips, both of them shining under the cheap fluorescents. "I'm made for better things than webcam sex."

"Mmhmm." He was squinting at the books on my shelf. "What's your major?"

"Take your pick," I shrugged, deciding my hair was fine. I was gorgeous. Hell, I'd fuck me.

"Exercise physiology, looks like?"

I laughed. "For a quarter or two. Creative writing, mostly. Then there was philosophy. Anthro. Psych. Speech pathology. Comm. History. Back to anthro." I hesitated, my mind wandering again, feeling a compulsion to tell him. "You can't major in... in poetry. But if you could, I would." I'd never told anyone that.

"Poetry?" He arched an eyebrow, but not in that judgey way like my father did in these situations. "Cool."

"Not really." I barked a dry laugh. "A portfolio of a hundred outstanding published poems and five dollars will get you a coffee at Samurai's Teahouse. Medium, maybe a large if you combine it with a loyalty card."

He laughed. "That sucks."

"Yeah, but what are you going to do?"

He winked at me. "You're going to do amateur porn on webcams, duh," he smiled.

"Apparently." Suddenly feeling a sense of unease I wanted to keep far away from me, I shook my head and spun, leaning against the sink. "Ready? I'm hungry."

"You can eat my dick?" he suggested.

"I already did that," I laughed, "and after Grundle uploads the footage tonight at ten, you can go check out the video and wander down memory lane." I smiled and offered him my hand, cotillion-style. "Shall we?"

He nodded coolly, taking my hand under his arm. "I plan to be busy around ten tonight," he shrugged.

I waited for the thickness in my throat to clear up. I didn't need to sound like a fool in front of this guy. "I bet you do." It came out husky, dammit, and once again I lamented the early demise of this thong. $23.99 for that fucking thing. I'd already been resigned to giving it to Tyler over breakfast the next morning, obviously, but I didn't want it to look like a dishrag when I did.

"Just letting you know." It came out in that low, easy voice of his I'd liked right from the start. I cleared my throat.

"The Whang might not like that, you being busy when your own video posts."

He chuckled. "The Whang's not here."

"You seemed to enjoy doing him." I was not bothered by that. Jealousy had zero place in our business. But I was curious about this: why he'd waited so long to pop me.

"Yes." He ushered me into the elevator. "But I never once even thought about asking him to dinner."

I squeezed his arm. "It's just that I've never really attracted tall, studly jocks," I needled.

"Times change, Christa." He escorted me out into the lobby. Outside, he opened the door of a red Highlander for me, handing me up. "Watch your shoe."

"Thanks." I waited until he looked at me, then laid a gentle hand on his face. "I'm happy you asked me out, Tyler Schiff."