The Fuck It List - Ch. 01

Net pushed forward. Her knees shook and she slapped her hands up against the wall, desperate to hold on for balance. Michael felt the long, hot squirt inside his mouth before he quite comprehend just what was happening. Then it hit him as another torrent tore from her. She squirted. He affirmed it with his finger. The beautiful, blonde angel was coming and arching her back and bursting with her delight. He could have laughed if he wasn't busy gulping it down.

He drank. He drank like she was an oasis in the desert. He sucked down her milk and delighted in the creamy trails of her cum that spilled down his cheeks. It mingled with the sweat on his chest. He sucked and fingered and her hot, little entry squeezed tight around his finger as an almost violent tremor ran its course. She even tapped her tennis shoes.

Net sunk her blue nails into his shoulders and Michael knew that he'd have her fingernail shaped marks there later. He stared at her face, enchanted as her body quivered and fed him. Net doused him, he was marked with luscious rivulets of milk. She was entirely pink now. Her eyes closed, her teeth clamped and her lips were drawn back. Her spasms wracked her body and it seemed almost like a fight. Like she just couldn't give him every last little droplet, she just couldn't be wrung out and emptied. But Michael insisted.

Net squeezed him tight inside, one last, long shudder that made her go up on one tiptoe in her tennis shoes. Then she collapsed, spent. The girl draped forward, over him, her little breasts pressed to his sticky face. She heaved and held in the sound of her breath as best as she could. She panted quietly, like she'd just run a hundred yard dash.

Net kissed him as she melted to his lap and Michael groaned into her juicy mouth as he dropped from his knees to the floor. She was loose and lax now, inside she gushed steadily. She was swollen and open and her climax dripped down his forearm. Michael tasted her tongue and licked along the ridge between her gum and the inside of her mouth. He knew she'd taste her own sweetness there. Even better than bubble gum, it would be something for her to remember later tonight.

The skirt draped over his lap and tented his poor, aching cock. No matter that it was covered, in his lap like this, Net felt his dick as it hammered between her thighs. The head fully pressed into the wet material of his sweatpants, it dipped into the sweet remainders that dripped to the floor.

Michael withdrew his finger. He took his mouth from hers. He fed her his cream dipped finger and watched her eat like a baby bird. Net looked him in the eye with the most pornographic look. She had no idea how sexy she was with her heavy lids and her flushed cheeks and the sweet knowing there in her eyes. In spite of how young and innocent she appeared, she had cum like a woman, drenched him with her fluids. That look said that she knew that it was beautiful and filthy and a man Michael's age had no business being like this with her and that made it all the more sweet.

She sucked his finger clean as the salesman tapped on Mr. Wetzel's door. "How are we doing in there, sir?"

Mr. Wetzel had finished the argument with his wife and mumbled his dissatisfaction under his breath. "I'm coming out. I need to look at the other jacket again." There were the sounds of feet hastily jammed into shoes and those shoes that scuffed along down the hallway.

Once they were gone, Net giggled inside as she sucked. She released his finger and took Michael's mouth back. He kissed her bottom lip. He seized the pouchy, pouty lip that he'd sucked all the gloss off and her bare mouth was intoxicating. "That's my boss, Evan," she whispered as Michael shifted from her bottom lip to the top. "He's a total toolbag."

"Oh yeah?" He asked with a smirk and then pushed his dick up. It was all involuntary. His cock just couldn't help but beg as it watched her cherub mouth suck and her big, blue eyes and that dimple. Jesus Christ.

"Yeah." Net said with a nod and added with a grin. "I bet he's looking for me."

Mr. Wetzel returned with heavy, tromping footsteps and so did Evan the toolbag. During the scuffle that returned the miserable man to the dressing room next door, Net whispered, "I am going to fuck you." Her breath was hot on his neck and it touched his pulse and made it strum a little faster. "I am going to fuck you right here."

Really, little girl? He didn't say a word. His heart trembled and he swallowed hard. Suddenly his mouth was dry even after the baptism of her sweet fountain. He was nervous and crazy horny, like it was the first time. Like he was her age and had built this up for months and was already more than just a little in love with her.

Michael clasped her face in his hands and mouthed, "Yes" instead of any of the other words he could think of. Like please and god and you're the girl I've been dreaming of since I was your age.

Net raised up from the floor and pointed at the padded bench in the corner. In the corner, there were mirrors on both sides. Even though the seat was handy for trying on shoes or seeing how a pair of pants felt when seated, Michael wondered if it hadn't also been used for fucking at some point. It was too perfect.

He pushed his sweatpants to the floor and watched as his hard cock lurched and bobbed for her. The lonely silver trail of his anxious liquid was a river down his shaft. It had made a puddle at the base of his dick. Michael was wet and lubricated and the ache had built to a crescendo and as he pushed his back into the wall. He braced himself for her precious little cunt and he watched. Torn, his lizard brain couldn't decide which was better, the girl before him or the panoramic view of her reflection.

He watched as Net unbuttoned and unzipped the skirt and it floated to the floor. She stepped out, completely bare now but for the tennis shoes. Michael bit his right hand hard to keep that noise to himself. A whinny. Maybe something that a stallion would make. A mating call. A desperate howl, something driven by ancient chemicals and a calling that he'd been trained to squelch down and hide away. It was a sound that he was sure that Mr. Wetzel, or any man, would recognize instantly as ecstasy.

She stood and stared at his nakedness and Michael followed her blue eyes. The innocence was still there, perhaps a bit of marvel as she stared at his erection. "Oh god," she didn't speak but he could read her lips. Net stepped up, her legs spread, the velvet of her inner thighs around his legs. Her small hand reached down between his legs and grasped his thickness right at the center.

Fuck. He wouldn't cum, not like that right in her hand. He wouldn't spray her lips with semen before he was even inside her, but he could. Michael knew that it was a possibility as he looked down and saw the head of his dick nestle in the nest of her slippery hair. The blonde guided him back to her dripping slit. With an expert move of her hips, she writhed and enveloped him from tip to base in one easy move.

Net was so tight. Her tiny hand couldn't be tighter and yet she was wide open from the orgasm. Her demure pussy lips were hot and thick now and couldn't have been tucked back comfortably into panties. Not like this. She needed to be fucked. Just a perfect, little girl who needed his cock, needed to ride him. Which she did, like she'd done it a thousand times before, like they'd been lovers all along.

The girl in the mirror placed her slender fingers on his shoulders and her strawberry blonde curls fell around her. The girl in his lap had shadows on her cheeks and forehead as she moved up, almost off his dick altogether. She slowly lowered herself to the bottom once more. Fuck, she was heaven. Michael had to wonder just how she knew. How did a sweet baby girl like her know to look him in the eye like that as she rocked her hips up and down? She slid back and forth just to let him watch her lips open and close and beckon his orgasm to her.

Michael clenched his thighs and pushed up inside as hard as he could. He matched every move. Net was a carnival of sensual delights and everywhere, everything was irresistible. Her tea cup titties bounced in the mirror and her nipples pointed at his face, just screaming for a bite. They were fat, little puckered buds that he'd spent nowhere near enough time sucking. Then there was her slender waist, her softness around him and her pale flesh entwined with his.

But fuck, there were her cheeks in the glass and everything inside him growled. Michael let his hands settle on her hips and he pushed her down and rocked up. He pulled back as she rose.

For a little girl, for a blue eyed cherub, for a girl who looked as new and freshly scrubbed as she was, she knew how to fuck. She didn't even have makeup on and yet, here she was. Net rode his cock like a full grown woman who knew exactly what she wanted.

Michael wouldn't look away, he couldn't. He knew that he'd last longer if he closed his eyes but it was too good like this. She picked up the pace and the slap of their skin was loud, too loud for where they were but it couldn't be helped. Michael's balls were full, drawn up close and so close to overflowing with his seed. He was full of milk, stuffed so full of need that he had no choice. He knew he was going to cum deep inside her. He was going to fill her and then keep fucking her while it flowed back out and spilled down his legs.

Net tightened and dug her fingers in again. Her face was red and she almost looked to be in pain. Yes baby girl, he drove himself home, I can't hold it back, can't hold it anymore. Give it to me, he begged in his mind. He needed to feel her flutter and clench and feel the needy little spasm of her magically silken pussy grab hold of him as the little shudders ran down her legs and she had her second orgasm all over him.

"Okay Mr. Wetzel, I'm going to leave you with these selections," her boss was right outside. The shuffle and the feet made Michael tense as they froze, both of them on the verge of a cataclysmic surge.

Net slapped her right hand over her mouth and kept going. There was no stopping her now and the young girl's body gripped him within. Her thighs clenched down and Michael felt the hot stream of her ecstasy pour down his cock. The slaps of their bodies were too loud and too wet to be anything else but fucking but Michael was too far gone to do anything but let go.

He came in waves of electrical impulses, vibration after vibration. He drowned in the pleasure of her, of it all. Pleasure in her blue eyes and her little waist melded to his belly and her budded breasts flat as they pressed against the thunder of his heartbeat. There was a sob that welled up inside, a cry of release. It was stuck in his throat and almost choked him. The intensity just made the orgasm rip through him, the delight rushing all the way down to his toes.

"Sir, are you alright in there?" Evan the toolbag asked as he knocked, very officially, on the dressing room door.

Michael clung to Net as he came, another wave and yet another. His whole body quivered and Net poured liquid from inside, down his pelvis. His thighs dripped of her and him combined.

"Yes," Michael said in a husky voice as he stared into Net's eyes and held onto her bottom like a life preserver. "Yes, just trying to make some decisions," he added louder.

"Okay, sir. Well let me know if you need anything," the toolbag called out and both he and Net dissolved into giggles once the sound of his feet in the toolbag loafers disappeared back onto the sales floor.

Net's eyes sparkled. She kissed his forehead and her pussy grabbed him once more. His cock had finally emptied and softened. It felt like she hugged him with all of her body. "That was the most interesting thing that's ever happened at this job," she told him in a whisper that caressed the back of his neck.

"Good," Michael said as she slid back. This was going to be goodbye, wasn't it? They couldn't stay here forever. It was almost as if Net could read his mind and she raised her soft body from his lap. They were parted now, severed. He instantly smelled the pungent, salty scent of his seed as it ran from her tiny entry. "Are you going to be in trouble?" he whispered as he shifted in his seat. His legs weren't strong enough to stand yet. It wasn't until that moment that he realized that he was spent.

Net reached for her skirt and began the movements. The preparations, the buttons and zippers and smoothing into place. He was sure that in a minute or two, in spite of the rich scent of sex, she'd look like nothing happened. If she sprayed a little of her cheap perfume and popped a piece of bubble gum in, no one would know that she'd just rutted like an animal.

"No," Net told him as she reached for her bra, "not if you buy all this stuff." She gave him a wink.

"Yeah, of course," he assured her with a whisper. Oh, that was right. He was surrounded by clothes. Pants and shirts and even underwear; clothes to start his whole life over, to use her words. Michael thought that maybe he just had.

Net had the blouse on once more and looked in the mirror to make sure that her bobby pins were still in place. She straightened up and showed him the light blue panties that she'd wadded up in a ball. "For you," she put them in his hand and let him hold her hand for a moment. Their fingers lingered, one last touch before she escaped.

With a shrug and a grin, Net slipped out of the dressing room, almost silently. If it weren't for the lingering scent of cheap perfume and cum, it would seem as if she'd almost been a figment of his most perverse fantasy.

Evan, the toolbag, met him at the cash register. The young man showed his unnaturally, white teeth in a grimace like a hungry crocodile as he looked at stacks that Michael had set down. "And who helped you today?" he wondered, waiting to dole out credit.

"Annette," Michael replied dryly, as if he wasn't still covered in her juices. As if he still couldn't taste her strawberry nipples and the hot, pink folds that hid away her delicate secrets.

"Oh yes," Evan grinned, "she's one of our best."

***

The buzzer woke Michael from a deep sleep and for a moment or two, he was too disoriented to understand what the buzzer was. It seemed like it was the middle of the night but once he put on his readers, his cell phone said that it was only dinner time.

There went the buzzer again and he said to himself, "Yeah, yeah, I'm coming." Michael swung his feet to the floor and found that yes, he'd gotten his sea legs back after all.

He pressed the button and spoke into the intercom, "Yes?"

"Mr. Fleming, there's quite a few packages down here for you. Can we bring them up?"

"Sure, thanks," he told the front desk. Michael unlocked his door and left it open. He'd need a few dollars from his wallet. The staff always said that gratuities weren't required but they were so much quicker about things when they got a little something.

He scratched his head and wondered just how many packages did it take to start his whole life over? It was her phrase and he'd never forget it or her. He liked this, he was unwashed and reeked of the scents of a girl on the cusp of womanhood. Michael was covered in the aroma of sweat and wet sex and sweet, floral perfume and he'd already memorized the smell of her on his body.

Michael knew he'd have to shower at some point but not tonight. "Mr. Fleming, where would you like us to put these?" Carter had come up with his buddy who never spoke. Carter was also the kid who usually fetched his Acura TSX. The two of them had arrived with a luggage cart that was neatly stacked with packages that were wrapped in paper from Nordstrom.

"Could you bring that to the closet in the master bedroom?" Michael felt his forehead wrinkle as he considered it. All his life, he'd been fiercely independent; it was practically the religion that he'd been brought up in. The Michael of his former life would insist that he carry everything himself. Was it that he had all these white blood cells now, fighting the rampant cancer, that left him almost perpetually drained? Was it just because he was suddenly aware that life was a time clock?

Or was it just because he'd cum so well and even after a three hour nap, he was still used up? Michael grinned and thought that was the answer he'd stick with.

Once he was alone again with his thoughts, Michael picked out a nice bottle of Cabernet and let it decant. It might still technically be summer but from his view on the twenty-ninth floor, it appeared to be drifting away. The way the sunset was melting amber and the clouds were all gray and plum and magenta and slashed with gold, it looked like fall was in the air. He decided to turn on the gas fireplace, even if it was just for the look of it.

With his glass and the furry wrap that he'd bought when the chemo had left him permanently chilled, he sat and reminded himself of the afternoon. He delved deep into the divine sensory experience that was Net. For a man who was dying, he'd never felt so alive.

Fuck, he'd never been that brave. Michael had always thought and planned and second guessed himself when it came to women. At work, he'd been bold. In the bedroom, he'd been hesitant.

Perhaps it was going to be easier to check off the list than he'd imagined. He savored the wine and reached for the notebook. He flipped it open and clicked his blue pen. Michael chuckled to himself and thought, technically he had fulfilled more than one. Sex with a stranger, yes check. Although, given his affection for Net at this point, he hated calling her that. Even if they'd just met and even if they never crossed paths again, he felt indebted to the curly haired girl. She'd graciously given him a sensuous world of delight, she'd opened up to him so generously. All with an adorable giggle and a wink.

He also thought that technically, they'd fulfilled sex in public even though it was different than Michael had pictured it. But any more public than the dressing room made his heart flip and his stomach tie into knots. He wasn't even sure if that was the case that his cock would be reliable. Maybe the first dressing room to the left in the men's department at Nordstrom was as public as he wanted to be.

Check.

With the first tick on the list completed, Michael closed the notebook and retrieved his most prized possession. They were in his pocket and of all the clothes that he'd purchased at the store today, these were by far his most treasured item. Blue cotton panties, panties for a girl to wrap up all of her sweet delights. A girl, far too young and too vibrant to begin to comprehend the gift that she'd given him today. A girl of undulating softness that wasn't a reminiscence so much as a daydream that had come to life.

He was rock hard just holding the panties. Michael couldn't remember the last time that he'd been desirous enough to masturbate so soon after sex. He'd save it though. His cock would simmer as little things came back, the glimmer in her blue eyes, the hint of her perfume from his arm, a wave of her pussy scent from his hand. He was old enough to appreciate that things like this didn't happen every day.

In fact, sometimes it took a lifetime.

He'd let it build and build until he had no choice but to surrender. In the dark, he'd clasp her panties to his mouth and his hand would be her tiny one and even if this morning, she had been a stranger, Michael was sure he'd call out her name when he had his second orgasm of the day.

In the meantime, he had a trip to plan. He'd always preferred road trips to flying. Even if it was less efficient, it was far more enjoyable. He'd always wanted to follow the Mississippi River south. He wanted to take all the old, winding roads that ambled along and curved with the landscape. Inefficient, back roads that were meant to drive thirty-five. The roads were dotted with farmland and quaint little towns from postcards. He'd follow the river down to New Orleans and give her a proper goodbye while he still had the strength. He thought that Bourbon Street required a little bit of fortitude in the best of times. Michael didn't want to wait and give one of his favorite places on earth some kind of watered down farewell. He refused to greet her when he needed a walker or oxygen; or whatever other possible humiliations lay on this mysterious path ahead.