The Fires of Lust

JefferyB

The Fires of Lust

Sitting alone in the booth, Mickey was having lunch and reading the newspaper. Mickey was a quiet man, well-read and confident in himself. He owned a small but profitable company. You could say that Mickey met life on his own terms. He had his own home and lived comfortably.

It was hard to say that Mickey had a routine, but he did enjoy his lunchtime, sitting quietly and reading. He was keen on politics and world events. He held disdain for people he felt lacked concern about world and national affairs, preferring to be concerned with their own lives and entertainment. It was not uncommon for his friends or employees to come to him with questions about politics or current events. While he was anything but boastful, he was confident in his knowledge and did not suffer fools.

As a man of color, Mickey had two unique things about him that were gifts from his white father. Unlike his black peers, Mickey had a very un-African American name. His father had insisted that a son be named after his childhood sports hero, Mickey Mantle. The second gift was the result of strong genes; crystal blue eyes. Along with his soft caramel-colored skin, Mickey bore little resemblance to the men of his race.

From his beautiful black mother, Mickey received her calm exterior and a fiery soul. She was a woman that loved all things sexual and was easily consumed in passion. On many occasions, Mickey had thought he had a split personality. During the day, he was his intellectual father, while at night, he morphed into his mother's version of an animal in heat.

For the most part, Mickey was content with his life. His work consumed most of his time, but he enjoyed an occasional round of golf or a game of racquetball with friends at a local club. At 34, he didn't consider himself an athlete, but he stayed in good physical condition. While it was unlikely that women would stop in their tracks to admire his looks, most would say that Mickey was handsome... in a quiet kind of way.

Through the years, Mickey had dated but never seemed to find the right woman. Instead, he found most young women to be what he termed "airheads" or "fuckwits." He had jokingly told a friend once that he wanted a woman that was a princess in the living room and a whore in the bedroom. He required a woman who could carry on an intelligent conversation and also shriek with passion as she rode his face while hanging onto his headboard.

That combination of attributes had been difficult for him to find. There had only been one through the years, but that relationship hadn't lasted. Mickey wouldn't admit it to anyone, but he did feel an emptiness in his life. He wanted female companionship but wasn't willing to settle for beauty without brains.

Having finished eating, Mickey had folded over his newspaper and read the editorial page while he sipped a second cup of coffee. Feeling a presence beside him, he looked up to see an old girlfriend standing beside his booth, seeming to glare at him with a look of displeasure.

Lisa had planned to see Mickey in this restaurant. In fact, he had been on her mind for the past several weeks. The two of them had been together for nearly a year, but that was five years ago. Standing beside him, she felt intense passion rising up. She wanted to walk away, but he pulled her to him like a giant magnet.

Mickey looked up to see her luxurious honey blonde hair surrounding her beautiful face. He took in the big brown eyes that had always excited him. It was impossible for him not to check her out from head to toe, noticing that she had maintained her 'centerfold' body and her exceptional taste in clothes.

She was dressed in a gray skirt and a black silk blouse. It was an effortless combination, but on her, it was a classic look that would draw men's eyes as she passed. As his eyes washed over her, he couldn't miss that she seemed to be breathing hard.

"Hi," he said softly. "Would you like to join me?"

"I would like to punch your face," she snarled through gritted teeth.

"Really?" he answered with a playful grin. "I guess your dislike for me is just as strong as ever."

"Maybe stronger," she snorted.

"Then why don't you sit down and tell me about it," Mickey said in his typical easy manner. "You appear angry and that is not a condition that you should maintain. It will put frown lines in that beautiful face."

He had complimented her and it stopped her following words. "Beautiful?" she asked in a kinder voice.

"Absolutely beautiful," he said with a smile. "Probably the most beautiful face I've ever seen. Now, why don't you sit down?"

Her pulse was still pounding, but she sat down across the table from him.

"How long has it been?" he asked.

Her fire seemed to have left her. She sat across from him, staring into his crystal blue eyes, almost unable to think or speak. "It's been five years," she answered.

"Five years," he almost whispered. "Where has the time gone? So, that makes you about 28 now?"

"Twenty-nine in two weeks," she answered.

"And why was it you left me?" he asked. "As I recall, you stormed out in a huff."

Lisa was still mesmerized by his eyes, seemingly unable to look elsewhere. Her mind remembered his eyes burning into her soul as she cried out in sexual ecstasy. How many hundreds of times had he left her a quivering mass, unable to move or speak?

Taking control of herself, Lisa answered. "I don't remember exactly. We had an argument."

"We did," he said as his eyes drifted down her blouse and seemed to be stripping away the covering over her breasts. She could feel her body heating up and knew beyond a doubt that he would be able to see her hardening nipples through the soft fabric of her bra.

Trying to distract him, she said, "I just remember that you were being a total ass and I left."

His eyes met hers again, locking onto the rich brown color that he had loved to watch when he tortured her with sexual arousal. "We had a political argument," he said. "Do you remember what it was about?"

"No. No, I don't," Lisa answered honestly.

"You were defending one of the President's law-breaking Executive Orders and I was explaining why it was wrong."

Slowly she nodded. "I remember now."

"You insisted on arguing."

"I was tired of you always being right," she told him.

"And you're still mad at me?"

Lisa was getting her nerve back. "To be precise, I hate you."

"That's a pretty strong emotion to have because of a political disagreement," he said with a soft smile.

"Damn him and that smile," she said to herself. "I don't hate you because of a stupid political argument."

"Then why?" he asked, showing his confusion.

"I hate you because you ruined me," she said in a husky voice. "Because of you, I haven't been able to find another man to satisfy me." She leaned forward and whispered, "No one can fuck me the way you did. No one can make me cum as you did. Because of you, I'm always left wanting."

The soft smile left his face showing a look of genuine concern. "I don't understand."

Lisa leaned in more. "Didn't we have world-class sex?"

"I thought we did," he answered.

"We did, Mickey. It was astoundingly great. You left me like a melting scoop of ice cream every night," she told him. "Not just once in a while, but every night. While we were together, you took me every night. Every single night, Mickey, and left me exhausted but happy."

"I never stopped wanting you," he answered. "I couldn't get enough of you."

"And I felt the same way," she admitted. "I would think about you during the day and get excited knowing that you would take me when we got home. And you took me, Mickey. You didn't discuss it with me or ask what I wanted. You just took me and gave me orgasms until I couldn't move."

"I didn't ask because I knew what you wanted."

"How did you know?" she demanded as she sat back and stopped whispering.

"I just knew, Lisa. I always knew. I saw it in your big beautiful brown eyes. I felt it in the way you reacted to my touch." He sat very still and looked into her eyes. "I just knew."

They sat quietly until the waitress came to the table. "You need anything else, Mickey? How about some more coffee?"

"Yeah," he answered, still looking at Lisa. "Would you like a cup of coffee?"

"Sure," Lisa answered as she kept her eyes on Mickey. When the waitress left, she told him, "A cup of coffee might cool me down."

"How many men have you been with in the past five years?" he asked.

"Seven," she answered. "No, eight would be correct... the eighth one and I broke up just about a month ago."

Mickey sat there with his mind racing. How could someone so beautiful have been with eight different men in the past few years and not found one worth keeping? "So, what was wrong with these guys?" he finally asked.

He could see the sadness in her eyes when she answered, "They weren't you."

As they sat there in silence, the waitress returned with a fresh cup of coffee for Lisa and a refill for Mickey. "Just wave if you need anything," the waitress said as she looked at the two people seated there staring at each other.

Lisa added cream to her coffee and took a sip.

Mickey watched her and again looked into her eyes as she sipped her coffee. Without considering if anyone nearby could hear, he said, "Take off your panties and give them to me."

"What," she said a little too loudly.

"You heard what I said," he answered softly. Then with firmness in his voice, he said, "Do it."

Lisa glanced around, quickly assessing if anyone was looking in her direction. She gave Mickey a pleading look which he rejected. Looking around once more rapidly, she began to move around, looking somewhat like a restless child. He saw her lift her butt off the booth seat for an instant and wiggle some more. Finally, she leaned over before sitting up straight. Then pressing her hand toward him, she said, "Here."

Extending his hand toward her, he had just a quick glimpse of a small piece of black fabric as it dropped into his hand. Putting his fist in his lap, he rolled the silky cloth between his fingers. "It's wet," he said.

Lisa was obviously embarrassed but answered, "I have no doubt about that."

There was another long pause. Lisa thought that Mickey might still be feeling her damp panties.

"You've had eight men in the past five years," he began. "Did any of them make you squirt?"

Lisa put her head down, not wanting to look at him when she answered. "No, Mickey. No one but you has even come close to making me do that."

"Did you like it?" he asked.

Her head came up and she answered as honestly as she could, "I loved it, Mickey. There's nothing quite like it. No sensation comes close, but you are the one with the secret. No one else could do it."

He stared at her for what she thought was a very long time without speaking. Twenty seconds passed before he said, "Do you remember our rules?"

Lisa thought for a bit before smiling. "I think so."

"Good," he said with his unique smile. "I'm going to go pay the check and then we're leaving."

"Where are we going?"

"To my house," he told her as he slid out of the booth. "We'll leave your car here for now and pick it up later." She saw him tuck the small wad of black fabric into his pants pocket as he walked away.

Before Lisa could even consider if leaving with Mickey was a good idea, he was back and extended his hand to help her from the booth. She slid across the seat, feeling her bare bottom touching the cushion as she moved.

He held her hand and led her into the parking lot beside a large pick-up truck.

"What's this?" she asked, staring at the truck.

"I call it BFT," he said as he opened the passenger-side door for her.

"BFT?" she asked.

"Yeah," he said as he held the door. "Big Fucking Truck." He took her hand to help her up into the cab, observing as her skirt rode up her legs, exposing what he remembered as the creamiest thighs he had ever put his face between.

Once inside, Lisa looked around to be surprised at this truck's luxury. She melted into the rich leather seats and ran her hands over the polished wood.

As Mickey moved behind the wheel, he said, "I decided a while back that I needed a truck now and then for work. When I found this one, I decided that there wasn't any reason not to have a comfortable truck."

"Oh, Mickey," Lisa cooed. "This is beyond comfortable. It has almost an erotic feel to it."

As he started the engine, Mickey looked over, saying, "What are the rules for driving?"

She blushed again. "I remember," she said in a soft voice as she pulled the hem of her dress halfway up her thighs. As she did, she scooted down in the seat a bit and moved her knees apart.

"I'm glad you remember," he said as he pulled the truck out of the parking lot and onto the road.

Once they were in traffic, Mickey reached over and put his hand on her leg, with the last two fingers touching the inside of her exposed thigh. Her skin felt firm under his fingers and quite warm.

When his hand touched her leg, Lisa felt an immediate bolt of electricity run through his fingers directly to her sex. Her reaction was almost orgasmic as she tensed, expecting his hand to move upward to find her wetness.

Holding his hand still on her leg and driving with one hand, Mickey said, "You know what I want you to do."

Lisa didn't say a word. She lifted the hem of her skirt until she could see the hairless skin between her legs. Opening her legs a bit wider, Lisa placed a hand between them. She could feel her own body heat reflecting off her skin as she closed her eyes and pressed one finger inside her very wet pussy. She groaned softly, but Mickey heard it.

As he had taught her to do years before, Lisa began to finger herself slowly, coating her finger as it moved in and out. Remembering his rules, she took the finger out, placing it in front of his face.

Mickey leaned forward and sucked her wet digit into his mouth. "You taste as sweet as ever," he said without looking at her. Moving her hand back between her legs, Lisa understood that he wanted her to continue to finger herself. She hadn't done anything so brazen since the last time she was with Mickey, but she didn't hesitate to do his bidding now.

Lisa's finger slipped back inside her hot, wet channel and her eyes closed again. In her mind, she could see the hundreds of times she had done this alone while she thought of Mickey and the myriad of ways he found to bring her to orgasm. Five years ago, she decided she had given up all of her self-pride by allowing him to command her to do things like she was doing now. But at this moment, she said, "Fuck self-pride. I want this again. I need him again."

Once inside his front door, Lisa watched Mickey close the door and lock it. She saw him reach into his pants pocket and remove her panties. He hung them on the doorknob and she felt a shiver run up and down her spine.

She was flooded with memories of hanging her panties on that knob each time she had walked into his house. After the first night they spent together, he had made a rule that she would not wear panties inside his home... ever. From that time on, she had entered his house and immediately removed her panties before hanging them on the knob. She vividly recalled the excitement that ran through her body each time she walked away from the door, knowing that her sex was uncovered and waiting for his attention.

Mickey took her by the hand and led her into his living room without saying a word. Then, stopping by his oversized leather couch, he indicated that she should sit. Once she was seated, Mickey moved to the large chair beside the sofa and eyed her calmly. "OK, Lisa," he said. "Let's talk."

"I don't want to talk," she told him firmly. "I wanna fuck. Isn't that why you brought me here?"

Mickey smiled. "After we talk."

"You know how horny I am," she said, looking a little exasperated. "I have no pride left. I practically begged you to bring me here. I've spent the past fifteen minutes sitting beside you with my fingers in my pussy. Why do we have to talk?"

"Because I want to know if this is a game," he answered softly. "Is this a one--time fuck to calm your libidinal urges, or are you looking for something else?"

Lisa didn't answer.

Mickey sat very still as he observed Lisa. He could see that her breathing was not normal. Her chest was almost heaving. Her eyes were bright and watching him.

"When you were with me," he began, "We never made love. We fucked like a couple of wild animals. We fucked every day. Some days we fucked all day and into the night. I couldn't get enough of you and you seemed to be unable to get enough of me. And then, one day, you walked out the door and never returned. Why?"

"Let's just chalk it off to being young and stupid," she said softly.

"And now you're older and smart?"

Lisa put her palms on her bare knees and looked at her hands. "If I had been smart, I never would have left you. My pride got in the way, Mickey. I wanted to come back, but after each new day passed, I became more embarrassed. After a month on my own, I decided that I could replace you. I rationalized that you were nothing more than a hard dick that pleasured me and that there were more of those to be found."

"And?" he asked.

"I did find them," she answered, still not looking at him. "In the past five years, I've been out with several dozen different men. I've spread my legs for eight of them, but none of them could satisfy me." She looked up. Her big brown eyes locked onto his. "None of them was you, Mickey. It took me five years to figure it out, but I finally got old enough and smart enough to understand the problem. I need you."

"You need me to fuck you?"

"I need that very badly," she whispered. "I'll get on my knees and beg if you insist. I want you to take me the way you did before. I want you to strip off my clothes and take away my pride. I want you to own me, Mickey."

He sat still and quiet for what felt like a long time to Lisa. She hadn't asked him if he was involved with someone else. Was that what he was thinking about? She had driven past his home maybe twenty times in the past two weeks, trying to see if he had a woman living with him, but had discovered nothing.

He didn't move but finally spoke. "Stand up."

She did as he commanded and stood directly in front of him.

"Take off the blouse," he told her.

Lisa immediately unbuttoned her silky top and tossed it to the couch before facing him.

He eyed her carefully before he spoke. "You still have great taste in lingerie."

Smiling and beginning to feel comfortable that he wouldn't toss her out the front door, she answered. "You know that I have a weakness for sexy lingerie. How many thousands of dollars did you spend on my bare essentials?"

"Take the bra off," he said.

The hook on the bra was in the front. Lisa opened it like a stripper. She slowly unhooked the clasp and opened it to allow her breasts to fall out of the lacy black wrapper. Like her blouse, Lisa tossed the bra onto the couch and turned to look at Mickey. "Do you still like them?"

"The girls are still a beautifully matched set," he said with a small smile. "Now, take off the skirt."

Once her skirt had been tossed aside, Lisa stood in front of Mickey, wearing nothing but her shoes.

"I'm glad to see you didn't decide to grow your bush back."

Lisa blushed slightly and told him, "Oh, I did grow it back. It was part of my defiance to you. I had it for about a year before deciding that you had been right. I looked better without it and it made me feel sexier."

"Turn around," he told her.

Turning to face away from him, Lisa spread her legs and stood still. She knew what he was doing. "Do you still like my ass?"