"Thanks," I say. Hanging up my receiver I tell myself, "Oh Marty, you poor baby."
That night after supper I do more research about love-shyness on the Internet. When it's time for bed I slither into a pair of blue granny-panties and a long sleeved St. Louis Blues hockey sweater. Not very sexy but it keeps warm. I climb into my empty bed. Sleep won't come.
I wonder about Marty and his shyness phobia. In the dark I review the information from my inquiry: A man suffering from love-shyness is strictly a heterosexual although he rarely goes out with women. He has no history of meaningful relationships of a romantic nature. He suffers emotionally because of this lack of meaningful female companionship. Yet, he becomes anxiety-ridden over the mere thought of approaching a woman in a romantic way. And, last but not least he is most likely a virgin.
My belly warms with yearning as I drift off to sleep wondering if Marty is still a virgin. Suddenly, I see myself looking down into the elevator at Marty and me. I'm wearing a white dress with a halter bodice and a pleated skirt. It looks just like the dress Marilyn Monroe wore in "Seven Year Itch." My consciousness objects to the image, I don't even own a dress like that one.
Ignoring the more rational side of my mind I continue to dream. I see Marty wearing a white tuxedo. I look into his eyes. Those big brown eyes seem to penetrate so deeply into my core that he touches my soul. My body aches to have his hard cock penetrate my pussy just as deeply. My nipples harden under his gaze and my pussy saturates with desire for him.
His eyes never stray from mine as he sniffs the air. He smiles at me like a cat does a mouse. He's picked up my scent of wantonness. After pushing the emergency stop button on the elevator panel he sweeps me into his arms. He laughs as I feign resistance to his embrace. Stifling my protest with a kiss, his tongue breaches my mouth.
I swoon. Wrapping my arms around his neck I return his kiss with vigor. I feel Marty's hands squeezing the cheeks of my butt as he pulls my pelvis towards him. I feel his hard cock straining against his trousers reaching out for me. I moan into his mouth.
Breaking our kiss, Marty looks into my eyes with intense passion and announces, "I want you."
"Take me...take me now," I signal my surrender with my best romance novel like sigh.
He tugs the fabric of my dress behind my neck at the apex of the halter. It readily rips in two and he peels the material down to my waist revealing my bare breasts. His lust filled eyes take in the beauty of my large breasts as they heave panting. The nipples are stiff and ache for his attention. His gaze returns to my eyes he wants to see how I react as he gently but firmly squeezes both breasts like he's testing ripe fruit. He bows his head and inhales one of my nipples into his warm, wet mouth.
It takes my breath way. I squeal as he pinches my other nipple between his fore finger and thumb. My breath comes in jagged spats as my body dances on the line between pain and pleasure. With a throaty groan I run my fingers through his full head of messy hair encouraging him to suckle.
But, Marty wants to be in charge and responses to my encouragement by spitting out my nipple. He blows hot breath on it. The nipple gets painfully harder as I shiver involuntarily. He laughs as goose-bumps rise on my chest. He reaches beneath my skirt and slides his finger along my panty covered slit. He looks into my flushed face then says, "You're panties are soaked. You really want me to fuck you, don't you?"
I respond with a weak nod of my head.
"No, say it," he commands.
"Yes," I whisper.
"No, tell me you want me to fuck you," he demands.
My pussy grows even wetter. I lick my lips and pant, "I...want...you...to fuck...me."
With a wry look Marty kisses me again then pushes me back to arm's length. Spinning me around, he grabs me by my waist. He bends me over by drawing my lower body towards him while simultaneously pushing between my shoulder blades forcing my top half away from him.
To keep from falling I reach for the elevator's handrail with flailing hands. Once in position I feel him raise my skirt by its hem. I look over my shoulder and see Marty lick his lips as his eyes take in the contours of my panty clad ass.
He slides his foot between my feet and pushes them shoulder width apart. Marty's eyes narrow and grow fierce. He slides his fingers inside the waistband of my panties and pushes downward at the same time his thumb moves up inside my leg hole. As he bunches my panties into his palm I can feel the material stretching against my skin and I grip the handrail with white knuckles. With a snarl he rips my panties off with a violent jerk. The sound of tearing fabric drowns beneath my shrill shriek.
My screech is cut short by Marty's abrupt slap of my ass. The stinging blow reverberates in the small space of the elevator. I can feel the warmth of a whelp rising on the flesh of my butt-cheek, no doubt a red outline of Marty's handprint.
I look over my shoulder and watch as his hand glides over my bottom with a light caress. He slaps it again, then twice more, sending shockwaves of pain through my jiggling buttock. Each stinging blow makes me yelp. My cries are ignored as he rests his palm on my cheek feeling the heat rising from it.
"Ellen, you are so beautiful. I love your sweet ass."
He offers me his index and middle finger and I suck on them like they are his cock. His intake of breath tells me enjoys my oral ministrations. He murmurs, "You wish it were my cock in your mouth don't you?"
The reward for my silence is another stinging slap on my ass. I spit out his fingers and bark, "Yes, yes, I want your cock."
"Not yet," Marty laughs.
He slips his two fingers into my soggy slit slowly but firmly as far as they will go. Methodically he teases the inner walls of my pussy with the pads of his fingers and my pussy grows juicier. His fingers makes contact with my G-spot and I squirm on his hand. He teases my G-spot by making a beckoning motion with his two fingers and I grow wetter still. He presses his thumb against my agitated clitoris and orders, "Now, cum. Cum for me. Cum now."
I actually bark with release. Shock waves of ecstatic pleasure rips through my core. I blink back the black as white lights flare through my consciousness and blood pounds dully in my ears. My snatch pulsates around Marty's digits like a passionate handshake. My orgasm subsides. In protest I groan as my gash losses its grip on his withdrawing fingers.
He pats my bottom with his wet fingers and says, "I think you're ready for my cock now."
I hear the zipping sound as Marty rips open his fly. Looking over my shoulder I see the ache of desire in his eyes. I shower his cock with my wetness as he teases me by rubbing it just inside my puffy labia. I stammer, "Put it in me, Marty. Put it...in...in my pussy p-ple-ease."
He slides his gargantuan cock into my quivering quim with ease. It's massive and penetrates me balls deep. Marty grunts his pleasure as the velveteen wetness of my cunt encases his hardness. His cock is so big I swear I can fill the blood surging through the veins of it. Pressing his hands into my hips like vice gripes he thrusts his cock in and out of me. At light speed he pounds my pussy to a pleasurable pulp. The elevator echoes with our moans of ecstasy.
"Don't stop...please...don't stop," I beg.
I reach between my legs and diddle my clit in time to Marty's onslaught. The copulation echoes of wet flesh-on-flesh smacks fade and the roar of rushing blood fills my ears. My eyes roll back in my head. My knuckles turn white as I grip the handrail. I feel I have the urge to pee. An electrical-like surge passes through my body from my cunt to my core. It feels like my whole pelvic region contracts around Marty's cock then collapse on itself. With a low growl I vocalize my orgasm until it reaches its pinnacle then I splatter ejaculate on the elevator floor. I howl, "Wooooo! Wooooo!"
Marty can't control himself as my climaxing cunt wetly clutches and contracts around his cock. Just as my head sinks back down onto the handrail, Marty snaps it back up by pulling my hair. This forces my back to arch and I groan. Now, he is able to propel more of his pecker into my pussy. With a wicked laugh he slaps my ass in rhythm to his thrusting cock. Each stinging blow brings a cry from me. This increases Marty's excitement and with a final savage stab he bottoms his cock out against my cervix. Groaning with gratification he coats it with his cum bellowing like a bull. He cums so much my cunt cannot contain it and it runs down my thigh in a torrent.
I jerk straight up in bed panting. I shake my head to clear the confusion. Patting the mattress with my hands I realize I'm alone in my own bed not with Marty in an elevator. As I catch my breath I feel my soaked panties clinging to me.
Throwing the covers off I get out of bed. Quickly I peel the sullied panties down my legs and put on fresh ones and climb back into bed. Rubbing my trembling tummy I say to myself, "That wasn't just night emissions, I think I actually ejaculated."
The next morning I slip into pink panties and a matching bra after my morning shower. My body is somewhat satisfied by my naughty dream so I don't masturbate today, the first time in a long time. My body's satisfaction doesn't temper the ache of loneliness in my heart.
As I put my make up on, once again highlighting my lips, I ponder my dream. I know Marty is way too shy to be as aggressive in real life as he was in my dream. I surmise that my submissive behavior in the dream is a reflection of the fact that my ex-husband was always the sexual aggressor in our marriage, that's not to say he instigated sex as often as I desired. If I got horny I would just self-gratify.
Looking at my reflection in the mirror I speculate that perhaps my marriage would have been different had I been more sexually assertive. My husband who was in his senior year of college had felt duty-bound to marry me after I told him that he had gotten me pregnant. With obligation as the foundation of our marriage instead of love it was a wonder it lasted as long as it did.
My brow furrows as questions streak across my uneasy mind like a bolts of lightning on a stormy night. Am I going to settle for a lonely New Year's Eve because social convention claims Marty is too young for me? And, since he's so shy am I bold enough to overcome my submissive nature and initiate the first move like the magazine article I had read earlier suggested?
Leaving the bathroom I dress in a charcoal-colored plus size chic business suit with a single-button jacket that hits me at my wide hips. The matching pants feature a wide leg with a straight fit through my hips and thighs accentuating my plump rump and creating an eye catching and tantalizing camel-toe.
I don't see Marty until I walk into the cafeteria for lunch. Recalling my dream my belly warms. My nipples harden and my pussy dampens as I make eye contact with him. I smile but his eyes quickly dart away.
"Maybe, he's just not into you," I mumble still standing by the entry way. I puff my cheeks and blow to quill the panic rising in me, "No, he's just chronically-shy. Besides he got royally reamed for gawking at Laqueta."
"Excuse me, I need to get by," quips a man in a business suit trying to exit the cafeteria.
"Oh, sorry," I mutter to the man then under my breath, "For goodness sakes Ellen. Do you want to spend New Year's Eve alone? Put on your big girl panties and go talk to him."
My face scrunches into a mask of determination. I quick-march to Marty's table.
He looks at me with wild eyes and starts to stand up clutching his tray. He stammers, "Ump, I wasn't leering at you, ump, I was just looking. Ump, I'm sorry."
"Do you like what you see?" I giggle.
"Sit down, Marty. It's okay. I want to talk to you."
He sits down but remains nervous like a colt ready to bolt out the barn door. His eyes barely glance at me when he asks, "Ump, are you going to, ump, complain to HR."
I shake my head, "Nope. Why would I? I'm glad you were looking at me. I want you to look at me."
"What?" Marty arches his eyebrows, "Why?"
With a coy smile I touch Marty's hand, "Because I'm attracted to you. And I want to know if you're attracted to me."
"You're attracted to me?" sputters Marty with shock and surprise.
"Yes, we've established that, what I want to know is, are you attracted to me?"
"Good. Do you want to go to a New Year's Eve party with me? I'll even buy the tickets."
Marty's face contorts with shock and surprise. His mouth drops open but no words come out.
"Close your mouth boy," snarls a dark suited man standing next to the table reeking of cheap cologne, it's Walter Talley. "I agree she's pretty for a woman her age and size but there's no need to make a spectacle of yourself. Besides, I don't think you're man enough to handle her anyway."
"Excuse me!" I scoff with incredulous. "Mr. Talley you can't talk to me that way."
Mr. Talley smirks down at me, "I wasn't talking to you, I was talking about you. Besides, isn't Junior here a little young for you?"
Before I can respond, Mr. Talley turns back to Marty, "I don't know what you said to Laqueta but she quit today."
"Laqueta quit, why?" I exclaim with shock.
"I'm not exactly sure but after speaking with Marty here, she said she didn't feel like she could continue to work around perverts."
Marty starts to explain, " Ump, I didn't..."
Mr. Talley cuts him off "Shut up! You need to go explain yourself to HR. I'm writing you up for malicious gossip, that's strike two Buddy Boy. Three strikes and you're out of here."
Slamming his fist on the table, Mr. Talley shouts, "Now, go to HR!"
Marty jumps like he's been shot and tips over his chair as he flees the cafeteria.
"I was there when Marty spoke to Laqueta. He didn't say anything inappropriate to her." I glare at Mr. Talley, "He just explained how you got that virus from a porn..."
Mr. Talley interrupts me with a sneer, "Keep talking sister and I'll write you up too. Marty is only speculating how my computer got that virus, he can't prove it. Now if you want to push the issue then I'll make sure Marty gets his third strike and he'll be fired. Enjoy, the rest of your lunch."
I calm down before I return to my station on the executive floor. I'm civil but cold to Mr. Talley when introduces his new secretary to me, a grandmotherly woman near retirement age who is transferring from another department, named Agnes. I'm pleased she is not a younger new hire that Mr. Talley will enjoy ogling.
At the end of business I wait in the lobby near the elevators for Marty. The stairwell door on the other side of the lobby explodes open. Marty and the rest of the crew from IT hustle out of it. I almost miss him. I hurry towards him shouting, "Marty...Marty Ritter...Marty, please wait."
He hears me and turns his head. When he sees me, he looks me straight in the eye, shakes his head negatively and turns to push himself out the revolving door.
I increase my pace and catch up to him. I grab his arm and spin him around, "Hey Mister, I was talking to you."
"Uh, leave me alone."
Suddenly I'm dizzy and I grab Marty to keep from falling. He catches me in his arms and asks with anxiety, "Are you okay? What's wrong?"
My face flushes red and I stutter, "My blood sugar. I need something to eat, please help me."
Marty guides me down the street and into a deli. He gets me a seat at a table then buys a container of orange juice. His face is a mask of concern as he studies my face. He opens the juice for me and orders me to drink it.
I nod before I gulp down the juice. My taste-buds are amused by the pulp remnants in mouth. After a moment, my digestive system quickly breaks down the sugars of the juice and sends it surging throughout my system. I feel better and mutter, "Thanks, Marty."
Satisfied that I'm not going to faint Marty sits down and asks, "This kind of thing happen often?"
"Only when I skip a meal, after Mr. Talley's fit in the cafeteria I couldn't eat."
Marty bows his head and studies the table top, "I'm sorry."
I reach for his hand on the table and clasp it, he looks into my eyes and doesn't let go of my hand. I choke with emotion, "You have nothing to be sorry about. It's not your fault, Mr. Talley is son-of-bitch."
"Get you folks anything else?" calls the man from behind the deli counter.
Marty nods, "They have the best Reuben sandwiches around. Would you like one?"
"Two Ruebens," Marty calls back. His voice resonates with a strong timbre.
While we wait for our food I pick up the conversation, "You never answered me today."
"Would you like to go to the Staler Hotel's New Year's Eve party with me?"
"Ump, I don't think that, ump, would be a good idea," he replies and tries to move his hand away.
I keep hold of his with a firm grip and press him, "Why? You said you found me attractive. Is it our age difference? Or because I'm a big girl?"
Negatively Marty shook his head while pulling his hand away.
"Then why? Do you like being alone?"
A desperate glint reflects in Marty's eye as he sputters, " No, but it's all I know."
I reach across the table and stroke his face, "Sweetie it doesn't have to be that way. I'm alone and you're alone. We can be together at least for New Year's Eve. Okay?"
Marty sighs, then whispers, "Okay."
I playfully tug on his whiskers and suggest, "You'd look good with a Van Dyke goatee instead of that straggly beard. And, if you'd put a little pomade in your hair while it is damp, it would have a softer, more natural look and it would help keep your hair in place."
Our food is brought to the table and we talk about ourselves. I tell him about getting pregnant when I was a freshman in college and how as soon as the kids left home my husband left me. I chuckle, "The funny thing is that was when I lost my virginity. The first time I had sex I got pregnant."
Marty nods with sympathy, "I know what you mean. My first time was a disaster too. My senior prom date, my only date in high school. After the dance we start to get busy and I get too excited and uh, ump, you know. I didn't even get her panties off. Well, she tells everyone at school and they start calling me Minuteman. That was my first, last and only date."
"You poor thing, no wonder you can't talk to women. But how were you able to tell me that whole story without stuttering?"
Mary shrugs, "I don't know, I just feel comfortable around you."
I smile, "I'm glad." He lowers his head and studies an uneaten potato chip in his plate. "Uh, can I ask why you find me attractive?"
I giggle at his discomfort and watch as he fidgets in his seat before I answer, "Well, you are kind of cute but mostly because you look me in my eyes when you talk to me, not at my boobs."
"I don't understand."
"Marty, I've had big breasts since I was fourteen. Most men when they talk to me are looking at my Double-D's not at me. When they look at me all the see are my tits, you see me."
"Oh," nods Marty with understanding, "but just for the record I do like your boobs. And in defense of my gender they are the size of cantaloupes so they are difficult to ignore."
I laugh tossing my napkin on my empty plate, "Let's get out of here."
Slipping on my coat I say, "To Famous Barr, it's right around the corner. I need a new dress for the party."
Marty shrugs again and we leave the deli. I slip my arm around his as we stroll down the street. At first, he seems wary of my close proximity but grows more comfortable as we walk. Soon we arrive at the department store and head up the elevator to the women's section.