by Mia Hart
5 EROTIC SHORT STORIES
MIA HART
C opyright © 2017 by MIA HART
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A uthors note: All characters depicted in this work of fiction are 18 years of age or older .
Contents
Backdoor Man
Licked
Caught in the Act
Hands All Over
The Fire Fighter
About Mia Hart
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Backdoor Man
1
I grip onto my glass of vodka and coke so tight, that I’m sure any second now the glass will shatter and cut my hand to ribbons .
I can’t help it though .
It’s been twenty five agonising minutes waiting, and judging from the sympathetic, if slightly condescending look the bartender gives me, I’m sure I look quite the picture—a sad, desperate, and friendless loner. There are couples everywhere I look, which only makes me feel even more anxious. I am starting to wish I could shrink into my glass and disappear completely. This is not how I imagined my first date with him to begin .
Normally I am a reasonably confident and self-assured girl, and if a guy so much as turned up one minute past the time we’d agreed on, I’d make a beeline for the nearest exit and find another man who’d be more than a little grateful to have me in his arms. But tonight is very different. He is very different. In fact, he may just be the most gorgeous specimen of man I’ve ever had the pleasure of talking with .
Yes, talking .
That’s all that has happened thus far I’m afraid to say. We’ve been exchanging various messages, which have become progressively kinky as the days have passed, for around five weeks now .
I made contact with him by accident really. Being bored, and quite frankly fed up with my love life, a friend suggested that I should check out a new dating app. She positively raved about it. At first I waved it off as being the last resort for sad and unpopular losers, but after meeting this guy online, and seeing some of the other hotties on the site, I caught the bug and decided to go along with it. I started to really enjoy the cyber-shield of meeting, and quickly deleting, would be lovers, but when I met and exchanged details with the guy I’m due to meet tonight, I was smitten. He’s hot, smart, and refreshingly funny. I relished our conversations. The only thing missing was the chance to meet him in the flesh and when he finally suggested a date a few days ago, I jumped at the chance .
As I continue to sit like a dummy, glued to a bar stool and staring into my half empty glass, I start to wonder whether I’ve been “cat-fished.” What if the person I’ve really been talking with all this time was just some geeky, weird, future serial killer, who has a penchant for trading cards and death-metal? My fears are soon dispelled though. Slowly walking my way is Mr. Sex-on-legs himself, and he looks exactly like the pictures I’ve seen of him—thank god !
Standing at a little over six-foot tall, he has tousled dark-hair, and even darker brooding eyes. He flashes a brief smile as he comes closer and I can see that his teeth are perfectly straight and immaculately white. When he finally reaches me, I sense the effortless power and confident aura that he possesses in his broad physique .
“Sorry I’m late. My taxi got caught in traffic .”
“It’s okay,” I shyly answer, sweeping a lock of blonde hair past my ear .
He smiles at me warmly as he surveys my figure. “Well…I’m Mike .”
“Well…I’m Connie,” I quip back, which makes us both giggle .
I glimpse at the bartender who winks back at me. Suddenly I don’t feel such the loner I felt only moments before. In fact, I feel quite proud being seen with this sexy hunk of a man—especially when I notice the looks I receive from other girls in the bar .
“Why don’t we start as we mean to go on?” Mike says, gesturing with a nod of the head to my glass .
“Oh, vodka and coke please .”
“Vodka and coke, and a whiskey with ice,” he says with authority to the bartender .
As we wait for our drinks, Mike gets comfy on the stool next to mine. He slips off his jacket, showing off his muscular body which is hugged tight by a fitted black t-shirt. My eyes almost pop out of my head as I study the firm and toned lines of his bulging biceps. The man is a true vision of beauty. Even more delicious in the flesh than in the dozens of photos I’ve already seen. He is handsome, confident, and impressively sporty .
I squeeze my legs together as he takes out his wallet. His arms flex and ripple as he thumbs through the contents for some cash. I imagine them wrapped around me, and have to instantly look away to stop myself from appearing like a complete sex-mad freak .
It’s been a long time since I’ve enjoyed the pleasure of good sex, and I was just about sick of my toys. I need to feel a warm and rigid cock inside me. My urges have become so strong that recently, on a few desperate occasions, I’d almost gone with guys I wouldn’t normally give a second look. Thank heavens then that this beefcake ticked all my boxes. I just hope he has the personality to match. I already liked his character going off our online chats, so I’m sure that tonight I am in for a very fun date !
2
W e simultaneously slam our shot glasses down on the counter. The bar begins to empty and I almost wobble off my bar stool due to the sheer amount of alcohol running through my veins .
“You sure can drink!” Mike says .
I hiccup, and then uncontrollably giggle as I try to form an answer. “ I — ”
“Time guys,” the bartender announces .
Mike slips him a twenty and the bartender nods. I re-adjust the bottom of my dress, which has ridden up my legs, and try to regain my composure. The night has been a blast so far. Mike is exactly what I hoped he would be, and we got on as if we were the best of mates. Although any nerves I initially felt were tempered by the copious amounts of booze I’ve drunk, I actually felt naturally comfortable in Mike’s company. I can’t explain why, but we just seem to click .
The bartender produces one more round of shots. He’s obviously easily persuaded by Mike, even though the bar is due to close. I am not sure if they know each other, but Mike seemed to be able to sway the guy with relative ease. In fact, he seemed somewhat popular with the entire staff the whole night .
“You come here often?” I joke, which is followed by a loud, and rather embarrassing, hiccup .
“You could say that .”
“With all the other girls I suppose …”
“No. Actually, I own the place .”
My hiccups suddenly stop, “You own this place ?”
He nods as if it’s nothing .
I look at him in awe. “This must be, like…the most exclusive bar in town !”
“I don’t like to make a big deal of it .”
Impressed, I start to think he must have some serious cash owning an establishment as trendy as this, but then I’m not so sure. Something bugs me .
“Okay, if you own this place then why are you paying for the drinks ?”
“Because on a date I like to be normal. I don’t want you to form any false impressions of me, as if I’m just using my money to get you into the sack .”
I want to continue down my initial line of inquiry but when he said—get you in the sack—I change tact. “Get me in the sack ?”
He laughs, almost nervously .
“Well, I — ”
I burst into laughter .
“We could always play another game of pool,” he continues. “If I win, I take you home .”
“And if I win ?”
“Well, I kicked your ass on every game so far tonight .”
I playfully punch his arm. “Maybe I let you. Ever thought of that, Mr Bigshot ?”
He smiles and downs his drink. “Come on. Let’s have a night-cap .”
“Hey mister, I never agreed to go home with you.” Of course, the only thing I want to do is go home with him .
He puts his jacket on and stands up to leave .
“See you later boss,” the bartender says .
I think it’s safe to say I now believe him. I still don’t understand why he paid in his own bar though. Or why he didn’t tell me he owned such a place in our online chats, but I think I can guess his reasons why. Maybe he didn’t want to attract a gold-digger? Of which I’m not, of course! Although, it is kind of sexy knowing he is gorgeous, funny, and potentially well-off !
“Ready?” Mike asks .
I quickly knock back my shot. “Wait, I need to powder my nose .”
He smiles and sits back down, as I saunter off to the bathroom—uncontrollably grinning to myself along the way .
3
H e is fucking stunning! Thank you. I owe you BIG time! Connie xx
A fter I send my text to my best mate, I rinse my hands and stare into the bathroom mirror. I look a little dishevelled, so I apply some fresh lippy and fix my boobs—which are almost spilling out of my dress. Once I give myself a liberal spray of the complementary perfume, which sits on the porcelain basin, I head back out to the bar .
My heart sinks .
Mike is gone, leaving just me and the bartender—who is wiping down some tables—alone .
“Where’s he gone?” I anxiously ask .
“Don’t worry, he’s waiting outside .”
I catch my breath and feel enormous relief. I don’t think I could bear the thought of this perfect night ending with me being stood up. If anyone was going to do the walking it would be me. And with Mike, the chances of that are slim to zero .
I step outside and almost recoil back into the bar. It’s absolutely pouring with rain. Mike stands across the road. He sees me and excitedly waves me over. Bracing myself, I dash across the soggy street to meet him—my hair, instantly soaked through. “What are you doing outside in the rain?” I shout .
He laughs. “I wanted to see what you looked like when you’re wet .”
I pause for a moment, and then we both fall into hysterical laughter—letting the rain lash down upon our already drenched bodies. I never felt so free and so at ease with a guy in my life .
“Come on, I want to show you something,” he says, holding out his hand .
With some trepidation, I take it. When my hand is embraced by his I feel a spark fly down the length of my arm, igniting my entire body. If I wasn’t one hundred percent sure before, I now know from this first innocent touch that I want him…completely .
Before I get too use to the nice, warm feeling of his hand, he yanks my arm sharply and runs ahead, almost causing me to lose one of my stilettoes .
“Wait, I can’t run that fast,” I shout .
“Come on .”
“Wait, wait !”
He pauses, allowing me to take off my shoes. As soon as I safely clutch onto them, we make a dash for it again. The wet puddles soak my bare feet. Where he’s taking me, or why he’s in such a rush, I have no clue, but I love the game and I love being with him .
4
“A sex store?” I say, completely bemused .
“Yeah, but it’s not like that. This one’s for couples, not seedy old men .”
If he wasn’t so devilishly handsome and sexy, I’d run a mile. Staring into the shop window I frown, and then, for some weird reason, I lead the way inside .
My jaw snaps open .
Now, I’m not really a prude, and I do have quite the healthy interest in sex and erotica, but I’m pretty sure that some of the items on display would make even the Marquis de Sade blush—dildos which hang from the walls like branches on a pine tree, rubber gimp-masks, chains, whips, leather corsets, butt-pugs. It really is the A to Z of sexual paraphernalia. Any toy or gadget you need to get off on, they have, and much more besides !
My face burns red. I don’t know who I feel more embarrassed for, myself, or the cardigan wearing, dowdy looking woman behind the counter, who is clutching onto a copy of some insipid coffee table magazine. Although I’m sure Mike and I both look like soaking wet deviants who crawled in from a sewer, she gives us just the briefest of glances. I’m quickly convinced that she’s seen it all before .
“Connie, look at this,” Mike calls .
I look around for him. He seems to have vanished like some small boy inside a sweet shop. When I eventually spy him, he holds up what is possibly the largest vibrator I have ever seen .
“This one’s called the monster,” he says, waving it about like some novelty ruler. “You have one like this ?”
I scowl at him and tut. “As if !”
“This doesn’t turn you on ?”
“It would rip me apart !”
“You girls are such bad liars…what you do with it counts more than size? Yeah, right !”
“Actually you MEN are such egotistical pigs that all YOU lot care about is size .”
On cue, he waves the tiniest of dildos in my face, “More your style then ?”
“Well, okay…not that small, but — ”
“Ha! Thought so.” He turns his back to me and begins to scan through all of the cheap smut films on display .
I walk down a separate aisle, thankful of the respite from the rain if nothing else .
As I look at a collection of handcuffs Mike suddenly springs out from the other side of the aisle, almost giving me a heart attack. He is wearing a red leather gimp-mask, “Hey sexy !”
“Stop it!” I tell him. “You’ll get us in trouble .”
He whips the mask off. “Yeah, guess it’s not a good look .”
I mildly chuckle to myself as I inspect a pair of silver handcuffs, tracing my fingers over the coolness of their surface. I can feel Mike stare at me .
“So, that’s more your thing?” he says, in a far more serious tone. I feel my breath quicken and my cheeks warm. The closer he gets—especially in a shop that etches nothing but sex on the brain—the more I feel turned on .
“Let’s go,” I say .
“Ah, but look at this one!” he replies, holding up yet another ridiculously proportioned sex toy .
“PLEASE!” I snap back. Although I instantly regret barking at him, I am tired, soaked through, and now feel somewhat awkward. I start to feel almost too familiar with Mike. It’s only our first date and we’re looking at sex-toys together. I begin to suspect that maybe he isn’t so special after all. Maybe, like most men, he only wants a quick fuck and nothing else. The only thing on my mind, right now, is going home...alone .
* * *
W e stand outside, using the shelter of a bus stop to shield us from the rain. I can sense Mike looking at me, but I don’t return the favour. Instead I watch the rain fall down into the puddles, warping the neon reflection of the city’s bright lights .
“Connie?”
I ignore him and check my phone .
“Connie,” he repeats, inching closer to my side .
“Look Mike, I — ”
“Yes?”
“I like you…okay? I really like you, but maybe …”
He arches an eyebrow, waiting for me to finish my sentence. He looks so achingly handsome, and now almost vulnerable, that my heart beats a fast rhythm for him .
“I like you, but… maybe this is too fast .”
“I understand,” he softly says .
His reaction isn’t petulan
t or sulky, but actually very…understanding .
“Sometimes I guess I act a bit childlike, can’t help it though. Boys will be boys,” he continues .
I look at him for a moment, as he fiddles with his phone. He looks at me again. “Taxi is on its way .”
I smile by way of an answer. I suddenly feel terrible in myself. For a few moments the silence is deafening. I begin to think that something must be wrong with me—to throw this away, to play so bloody hard-to-get. I wrestle with my thoughts—perhaps the way I’ve reacted tonight is why I’ve had to resort to internet dating in the first place ?
He remains silent, which only teases me to keep looking over at him. All I want to do is feel his hand in mine again. Maybe rewind to when I wasn’t a complete bitch to him. He didn’t deserve it. All he wanted to do was have a laugh with me and I had to get all serious and moody! And so what if all he wants is sex? Would that be so bad? I am incredibly horny around him after all .
As I pluck up the courage to speak, the foggy haze of headlights approach us. “Here’s the taxi,” Mike says .
He looks disappointed now. I can think of nothing else but to approach him—don’t be a coward Connie !
He looks at me with the cutest of expressions etched on his face. I take the initiative that had evaded me up to this point and reach up to meet his face. I gently graze his lips with mine, wetting them with my gentle kiss. He places his hands upon the small of my back and pulls me in closer, kissing me back with a soft and warm passion. His lips and tongue dance with mine—sending spasms of lust spiralling through my core. This first kiss feels so amazing—sensual, passionate, and delicately sexy. The expensive scent of his cologne only further spikes my desire for him. He smells so manly and clean .
