An erotic mirco-story for mature readers.
i walk around the wrapping paper trip mines that dot the path from the living room to the bathroom when i see the lights on the street from the basement window, pull up, then shut off. i knew who it was. my phone goes off in my pocket. just a sec, gimme a minute, will you? i offload the most eager of waste while my mind rattles-off a mile-a-minute, my erection throbbing against the inside of the toilet seat. i use a wet wipe then give my girlfriend a kiss. she sits on the couch in a half-baked eulogy to the evening, her phone in her hand while the last few tracks of the christmas cd play from the stereo. i’m going outside for a smoke, do you want to come? “no, i’m ok here.” that’s great, you stay here. you look very comfortable. i don’t. “you don’t. everything ok?” everything’s fine, i just need to go outside to smoke up, calm down. “what do you have to be uneasy about? it’s christmas!” she takes my hand from just inside the radius that allows her to reach from her seat without moving, and pulls me toward her. she kisses me. it’s sloppy, and i miss her lips and peck under her nose in the fervour. “are you sure everything’s ok? you just seem off.” i’m fine. my phone goes off again. “someone is really trying to get a hold of you.” i know, it’s probably Dad, you know i tried him earlier and he didn’t pick up. “well hurry back to me.” i will. she has said her peace, but she still knows that something is up. she isn’t stupid, and i’m easy to read. i kiss her once more for extra reassurance before robing myself up for the storm outside and venturing forth, around the side of the house from the basement suite entrance to the street out-front, where i can see the darkened silhouette of a figure in the car parked out-front. i can recognize that hair anywhere. and she put it up for me, with a little poinsettia scrunchy that enunciates her flawless smile and red lipstick. i kick the snow off my boots before getting in to the passenger side of the car. hi. “hi.” she starts the ignition and pulls away, waiting for the last minute to turn on the headlights.
we drive for a minute around the block and park in front of the most inconspicuous house she can find. you look great. “i’m sorry, i just couldn’t wait any longer.” that’s ok. she is wearing a big, puffy thigh-length winter jacket. she turns the car off and lets the driver’s seat roll back to give her space, then she hastily unzips the jacket as i try and process the information as it’s presented to me, treasure buried deep beneath a dark-red vintage rockabilly pin-up dress, tight around her frame. she throws her knees up onto the seat to unzip the rest of the jacket without having to struggle, and her legs are bare and shaved above her pink Alpargata slip-ons. all i can think is, how lucky am i right now, that this girl is so tiny that she takes up such a small real-estate in the vehicle. all the girls i’ve ever tried to fuck in my car squish & squirm and complain they’re uncomfortable before i would give up or take them home with me. but that wasn’t a problem tonight. i reach across the car through recycled, warm air, permeated by perfume, to her legs, while she continues to rest her knees on the seat. i want to get closer. she deliberately backs away with a bratty smile on her face, up against the door, so i have to make the maximum trip required across the vehicle to get to her. it feels like miles. i manage to slip my left knee through the debacle of gear levers and Starbucks garbage to the edge of her seat, and i’m able to get within kissing distance to her. i keep my hands on her legs, on her thighs, my fingers just under the hemline of her dress, my nails gently digging-in to the fresh skin. she smiles. “merry christmas.” merry christmas. she closes her eyes. i kiss her. her wet, painted lips stick to mine and peel away as she pulls off. you can almost hear them separate like Velcro. she opens her eyes. i want more. i put my hands on her hips now and hoist myself forward enough to get a long, succulent embrace in my own comfort bubble. she puts her hands on my cheeks, my beard. she kisses me back and strokes my beard. i think we should get in to the backseat. we hop out into the cold and escape the wasteland through the rear of her four-door, four-year-old silver Civic, as it disappears under the falling snow.
now we are close. now, we magnetize together, welded, our lips, her legs sprawled over mine. she had nice long hair and it smelled and felt great: the grey Overtone above her natural caramel blond had a fruity scent to it, that he could taste in his mouth. he stopped kissing her for a minute and took the end of her hair that was tied into a tight lace braid that sprouted from her anthers, and put it up to his nose and smelled it. he smelled it from the tip all the way up the criss-cross of the tresses until he reached the neck, and then her ears. he sucked on the lobes, and any strangeness she felt in the second she left him to his odorous endeavour evaporated into ecstasy as he nibbled on her little-stimulated erogenous zone, throwing her hair and neck back, the braid along with it. such a long neck. she would slouch, ever-so-slightly when he spoke to her standing-up but the weight of her mane brought her down. i laid her gently across the back seat and used my hands, starting at her neck, encompassing it & its secret expanse in my fingers before letting them sink, to the cleavage of her dress. as i touched her chest and tickled the bones that protruded from her petite figure, i let my fingers run under the neckline and then underneath the straps of her bra, feeling, thinking. in the pause she tries to sit up and pull the dress off over her head, but i sense the panic in her lust and i try to calm her down. i hold her hands down. i am inches away from her face. what time is it? “i don’t know.” i kiss her. you need to calm down. “you need to hurry up.” i did. i usually took twenty minutes for my smoke break, one cigarette, one joint, maybe a few minutes grace to start a new drag before i was expected back in. maybe i wasn’t. maybe she had fallen asleep? but my lover could tell i was hesitating. “i think you’re the one who needs to calm down.” her hands are now at my pants. she pulls it out. i am not as hard as i was, but as soon as she touches it, she exhales her warm, washed breath into my face and smiles, and i am dizzy from the blood lost from my head. she jerks me off and slips her panties to the side as she guides me inside.
it is amazing. she is amazing. in those minutes, she is my world, and everything in that car was ours. she quakes in her climax and forces me to orgasm inside her. “it’s ok, it’s ok.” she held me. i have to go. “i know. just stay here a minute longer, it’s cold outside.” it is cold, she’s right. once we recover, she drives me home and i trek around the house again, retracing my steps. “baby is that you?” yes, it’s me. sorry i took so long. “that’s ok. it’s cold outside! i was getting worried about you!” don’t worry, dear. i always come home to you.
//jf 1.2.2021
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theory of a daskeman 