Short and Sweet

by Miranda Forbes

  Once she had finished Marcus took me to the sink, and I laid back and surrendered as he washed my hair. His fingers massaged my head slowly and firmly. I closed my eyes. This was always my favourite part. And then they began to venture down my neck and across my shoulders. His touch was firm, forcing me to relax. I squeezed my thighs shut, feeling a familiar tightening in my cunt. He was good at this.

  ‘The colour we’ve chosen will be just right. It will complement the cut beautifully.’

  I was startled, opened my eyes. Monique had drawn up a stool and was sitting alongside me, her hand resting on my thigh. Her touch was light. We hadn’t chosen it. She and Marcus had. But I was happy to concur. I’d never been a redhead. There was always a first time for everything. Monique’s hand was still resting on my thigh. And then she began to move it. Not away, but further up, teasing. I didn’t protest. I was curious. Wanted to know what she intended to do. She tucked her fingers under the hem of my dress and slid them round, positioning them between my thighs, parting them slightly as she moved up. I allowed her to do it, and all this time Marcus was massaging my shoulders. So this is what they meant by pampering. Fine with me, so far. At least I was being included. And then Monique pulled her fingers away, stood and turned her back on me, walking away. Bitch, I thought. Teasing me like that. Marcus wrapped my head in a towel and took me over to a chair.

  ‘Trust us,’ he said. ‘We know what we’re doing.’

  I raised my eyebrows. They were complete strangers. Why should I trust them? My faith in human nature had, after all, been a little shaken lately.

  His chair was at the front of the salon. The blinds were half closed. He worked quickly too. I watched my hair, darker now, fall to the floor as the cut took shape. I watched Monique in the mirror, clearing up. She looked up after a while and met my gaze, unsmiling. Then she came over.

  ‘Your dress is beautiful. Handmade lace?’

  I nodded.

  ‘May I touch it?’

  Monique had pulled her stool over again, and was sitting next to me. Marcus had finished, and had taken the cape away from around my shoulders. What could I say? I shrugged, allowing her. I’d bought the dress today. It was figure hugging, and way out of my price bracket. But what the fuck? I deserved a treat.

  This time her hand wandered up over my skirt, up to my waist, stopping just short of my breasts. I held my breath.

  ‘Really beautiful,’ she whispered.

  ‘You too,’ I replied, accepting the compliment, kind of assuming she didn’t just mean my dress. And so I touched her back. I started with her skirt too. It started out short, but by the time she’d sat down it was virtually up over her hips anyway, so all it needed was a little encouraging push, aided by a wriggle on Monique’s part and it was around her waist. She was wearing knickers. Just. A tight black satin thong that barely covered her mound. I looked at her and she held my gaze. It felt like a Mexican stand off. She hadn’t been expecting this. I understood the game she and Marcus had been going to play. And I’d subverted it. Taken charge. They’d misjudged me. No doubt I was supposed to give in to her ministrations, to offer no resistance. But that wasn’t the game I liked playing. I looked at Marcus too. He’d stepped back and was watching us. He gave me a small nod.

  ‘I think we should swap places,’ I said to Monique. Her eyes widened. And then she stood. I reached forwards, pulled her towards me and kissed her. She responded immediately, her lips warm and full, tangling her tongue with mine. I began unbuttoning her blouse, slipping my hands inside, pulling her breasts from her bra, twisting her small tight nipples. She gasped. I wondered if this was what she had been planning for me. I slid her blouse over her shoulders, unhooked her bra and bent to take one nipple between my lips. Another gasp. She was beautiful. Her skin was cool to the touch. Her breasts were, as I’d thought, small and firm. I love women’s breasts, any shape or size will do. My own excitement was building, and I could see Monique’s was too. Her head was thrown back, her eyes closed, her mouth open. I kissed her throat, taking the skin between my teeth and biting, knowing I would leave my mark.

  It was my turn to lead, to take complete control of the situation. It was now or never. I pushed her back into the chair I’d just vacated. By now she was only wearing her skirt, around her waist, and her thong. Two items of clothing too many. I knelt in front of her, and she raised her hips in anticipation. Her skirt was soon lying on top of her blouse, a messy black puddle of discarded clothing. There was just the thong. I pulled her hips forward and pushed her thighs apart, burying my head between them. She made the sweetest, most encouraging sound, so I continued. I licked her thighs, kissed her mound through the black satin, hooked my finger under it and felt her wetness, her readiness.

  I glanced in the mirror to my left. I could see Marcus. He was standing right behind me. It was my turn to give him a nod, and he quickly confirmed the sixth sense I had suspected him of having when he leant behind me and began unbuttoning the many tiny buttons at the back of my dress. Exactly what I wanted him to do. I stood for a moment, allowing him to finish. What was going on was good, but what I needed more was a bit of skin on skin action. My skin against Monique’s preferably, but looking at the bulge in Marcus’s black jeans, I could envisage some girl on boy action happening today, too. Perfect. And fuck you, Rob. You’re not the only one who can have good, old-fashioned fun with strangers.

  My dress soon joined Monique’s clothes. Admiring noises came from Monique as the rest of me was revealed. I don’t think I was quite what she was expecting. Tonight I was braless, my breasts still held their own. My nipples matched hers, they were tight with desire. They needed touching. I wore stockings, suspenders, but nothing else. I saw her glance at the tiny tattoo of a bluebird on my right hip. Then to focus on my cunt. I was shaven. And my cunt lips were moist. Monique echoed the moistness by licking her lips. I glanced at Marcus again in the mirror. He had unbuttoned his and shed his jeans and was tugging slowly on his cock, obviously enjoying the sight before him. If he was happy to watch for now, I hoped he’d get involved sooner rather than later.

  ‘Silk stockings,’ Monique smiled.

  I nodded. Another indulgence.

  ‘And your cunt …’ her voice faded.

  ‘Yes, it feels good like this, enhances my pleasure.’

  She held out her hand, and I stepped towards her. She traced her fingers over my waist. I held my breath for a few moments. One hand headed upwards, towards my breasts, just skimming my flesh, then pinching my right nipple. The other headed southwards, stroking down my thighs, then back up again to my cunt. She delved into my heat, her fingers flicking over my cunt. This was nice, very nice, but it wasn’t where I wanted to go. I could so easily surrender. But what I needed was to regain control. So I pushed her hand away and dropped to my knees again. I tugged at Monique’s thong. The flimsy fabric gave way, and I smiled as I gazed at her cunt. Shaven too, just like me.

  I had planned on going down on her, but seeing her bare flesh forced me to change my mind. That was OK, I’m flexible. So that was when I straddled her instead, sliding my thighs over hers, tucking my legs under the arms of the chair and heard her sigh as my cunt met her cunt. Marcus gave me a grin in obvious approval and, letting go of his cock for now, he stepped behind the chair and held Monique’s arms. She gave him a look, perhaps of protest or surprise I doubted this was how things generally went when they pampered a female in distress, but then she acquiesced and relaxed. After all, he was holding her tight; I was on her lap, my cunt against hers. What else could she do?

  Then I began to move. I wriggled, twisted and ground down on her, using my fingers too, mingling our juices. I pushed three fingers inside her, feeling her tighten around them, and I knew from experience she was soon close to release, turned on, maybe by the turn things had taken. I planted tiny kisses on her, starting with her shoulders, moving down to her mouth-watering breasts, circling her nipples. Her cunt tightened more, and more still as I bit her. I felt her
shudder. I pulled my fingers out, finding her hardened nub again, and began to stroke.

  ‘Faster,’ she moaned. But I wasn’t having her command me what to do. So, instead, I slid my hands over her body, her own juices making her skin glow in the half light. And then I scratched her. Delicately, down her sides and abdomen. Leaving the finest of red lines behind, which I kissed, drinking in the sweetness. And still Marcus held her, though now she fought him a little. She couldn’t fool me; I could see she was faking it. Not the pleasure, but the resistance.

  It was time to taste her. I suspected she tasted as good as she looked. So I slid off her lap, and back down onto my knees. Her thighs were parted in readiness, and in a nanosecond my mouth was buried in her cunt. My tongue was inside her, then on her clit, teasing it, feeling it harden. I felt her hands push my head down. So Marcus had released her. I approved. It was about time he played a more active role. Her hands were free to push my head into her pussy. He was behind me, kneeling too, massaging my back, reaching round, kneading my firm breasts. I could feel his cock press against my buttocks. It was hard and ready. I wriggled a little, and opened my thighs. I was ready too, and wanted him to know it. And then his fingers were in there, tracing round my butt hole, down my inner thighs, into my cunt, over my clit, everywhere. He knew exactly what he was doing. I groaned with satisfaction, causing Monique to groan too, the vibration on her clit almost tipping her over.

  ‘Now,’ she pleaded. But I pulled my tongue away, momentarily. Soon, but not yet. I wasn’t having this wanton bitch dictate when her release would come. And then I felt his cock between my cheeks. I wondered where he was heading. Cunt or butt? I could take either. But he took the safe option, and forged his way deep into my cunt, holding my hips in place as he drove in, and began thrusting. One hand reached round my hips and found my clit. He was obviously a man of many talents, for which I was grateful as with each flick over my clit my cunt tightened round his thrusting cock. This was the kind of pampering I desired. I buried my head back in Monique, flicking, licking, biting, finger-fucking her, showing no mercy. She’d come now, at my command, and she did, her hips bucking, her juices flowing over my hands.

  And that was when Marcus increased the pressure, and I was able to concentrate fully on my own needs. He was penetrating me to my core, working my cunt and clit in tandem, as I had done to Monique. I held myself steady against her soft, milky thighs as he ground into me and, finally, for the first time in weeks, I let myself go. The ache inside me was finally being indulged and I called out as he fucked me to the most exquisite orgasm of my life. My cunt pulsed as I melted into pleasure, finally resting my head on Monique’s thighs, vaguely aware of her stroking my hair as I shuddered through the death throes of my orgasm. My orgasm ensured his, a few final thrusts and he was finished too. He withdrew slowly, his come trickling down my thighs. There was no doubt he’d found the whole experience satisfying too.

  As we recovered I admired Monique. Stroking her body, planting kisses on her thighs, stomach, breasts and finally lips. She was truly beautiful. Not flawless, but then who is? And who wants complete perfection? And I compared her pale softness to Marcus’s tanned hardness. Both were delicious to me. I’d got the best of both worlds, being attracted to the male and female of the species. It was a win win situation.

  I perched on a stool, my skin cooling. And I watched Marcus and Monique. It became apparent they were well practised partners, and that they weren’t quite sated. He’d got up and was sitting back in the chair, his cock still glistening from my juices resting on his thigh, and it was her turn to fall to her knees.

  I rubbed my hand over my still tingling shaven mound as Monique massaged life back into his cock, stroking and licking his balls, finally taking him into her mouth. He sat back and allowed it to happen, smiling at me as I parted my lips, insinuating my fingers between my folds, matching Monique’s rhythm as I stimulated myself again. If I couldn’t be part of the action I was quite happy to be a voyeur, hungry for thrills. My cunt tightened as Marcus groaned, clearly close to coming again. Monique had done this before, many times, that was clear. I pinched my left nipple as my right hand did the work on my clit and cunt. And then it happened for both of us. Marcus pumped his come into Monique’s welcoming mouth as my cunt pulsed and throbbed around my fingers. I sighed as my appetite for carnal pleasure was satisfied, and Marcus cried out as his gratification was complete. They were doing this for me and that felt good.

  I glanced at the clock. 10.00 p.m. I was late for my appointment. But still I dressed slowly, and they helped me. Marcus finished my hair, smoothing it around my chin. This was the final stage in the pampering process I guessed. I watched in the mirror as Monique buttoned my dress, kissing my back as she did so. My skin was glowing and my hair flattered my new image.

  ‘Will you come again,’ she asked. Tentative. I shrugged. I expected I would but I wasn’t going to make any promises, become anyone’s prisoner. If that was what they wanted they should have thought of it before they helped create the woman who stood here now. The uber-bitch.

  I left the salon without saying goodbye.

  For almost the first time in my life I was late. I’d kept Sean waiting. He’d called last night. Said he was lonely. Had been abandoned by the beauties I’d encountered in our flat that day. I hadn’t been surprised. Maybe they’d have stayed around if I’d had a chance to work on them. I’d agreed to meet him. And I would, if he was still waiting. I wondered what he’d think about my new look. If I wanted to, I might even grant him a mercy fuck. But that would be it. After that we’d be finished for good. I never wanted to see him again. Sean had nothing to offer me. After all, tonight, with Marcus and Monique, I’d got my mojo back.

  Barbecue

  by Landon Dixon

  The farmer dropped me off around noon. I was hungry, and the sight of the roadside barbecue joint all alone out there in the middle of nowhere caught my eye; along with the sign in the window that read, Man Wanted.

  I didn’t have one thin dime to my name, but maybe I could be the man they wanted, earn a meal and maybe more. So I dusted myself off and smoothed down my hair and pushed through the screen door entrance to the place.

  It wasn’t much, just a short counter fronting eight stools, five tables, a few booths. Everything was done up in red and white, nice and shiny like there was plenty of time for polishing and not much for serving. I took a seat at the counter, and a guy came out of the back, slipped in behind the counter.

  ‘What can I get you?’ he asked.

  I couldn’t get the words out right away, I was sort of stunned. I’d been expecting some grizzled fry cook with five o’clock noontime shadow and a gut you could balance a tray on.

  This guy was anything but – young and lean and tanned, with sky-blue eyes and wavy brown hair and full red lips. He was wearing just a white T-shirt and white pants, and his smooth, slim arms and smooth, handsome face shone brightly out of the tighty-whiteys.

  ‘Hamburger,’ I gulped finally. ‘Well done.’

  He nodded and turned to the open grill, slapped a patty down on the hot metal. The view from the rear was just as appetising as from up front, the guy’s bubble-butt bulging out the seat of his pants, his sinuous shoulder and back muscles moving lithely as he worked the patty with a spatula. My mouth watered with more than just the sound and scent of sizzling hamburger.

  ‘What about to drink?’ he asked over his shoulder.

  ‘Huh?’

  ‘Something to wash the meat down with, you know?’ He turned and looked at me, flashing a dazzling grin, his eyes sparkling like the countertop.

  ‘Uh, sure. I’ll have a Coke.’

  He nodded and went back to watching the beef. Me, too.

  When he bunned and plated the burger, drew me a tall cool glass of Coke and set the meal down before me, I came clean; after taking a huge bite out of the delicious hamburger, a long pull on the sweet glass of cola. ‘Look, uh, I don’t have any money to pay for this.’ />
  He was leaning against the grill, watching me chew and chug, and his eyes narrowed. ‘That right?’

  I took another tremendous bite, leaving only a morsel, another strong suck, leaving only a puddle. ‘Yeah, but I saw your sign in the window. Maybe I can work it off?’

  He folded his smooth brown arms across his chest, pumping his biceps out on either side. ‘Guy says he can’t pay, Laura, wants to work it off.’

  I didn’t know who he was talking to. Until the swinging door to the back kitchen opened up and a woman stepped out, every bit as beautiful as her partner.

  She strolled in behind the counter, her green eyes regarding me coolly. She was tall and blonde, sun browned as the man, her hair wavy like his only longer, her face pretty, lips lush, breasts pushing out the white smock she was wearing, legs flowing brown and bare and gleaming from the bottom of her white skirt.

  With this pair helming the joint, I was surprised there wasn’t more traffic.

  ‘He does, does he?’ Laura breathed. She licked her lips, putting another layer of gloss on them, looking me over.

  ‘What’d you think?’

  ‘I think he might fit the bill. But I’ll have to see him work. Can you cook?’

  ‘Sure,’ I lied, nervous under the combined beams of the beautiful people.

  A couple of trucks pulled into the gravel lot out front, a couple of burly guys banging through the screen door and taking a table. The lunch rush had started. I got the job.

  The man’s name was Steve. He prepared the food while his wife, Laura, served it up. They were both on display out front all the time, putting on a show for the appreciative truckers and travelling salesmen, the farm women lugging their kids along by way of cover.

  I bussed the tables and washed the dishes, gofered stuff from the back. Despite the two attractions, the crowds weren’t that large, at lunch or dinner, because a new provincial highway two miles east had left the eatery isolated out there on the old municipal road. I figured my half day would square me and I’d be on my way. I figured wrong.