Lorne stood back to study the effect. “This won’t work. You have to take off all your clothes, guy. I need to see your bone structure.”
Matthew was mortified by his growing boner. “Uh—okay,” he mumbled, pulling his T-shirt over his head. He unzipped his jeans and stretched out one leg. He hoped that clever maneuvering would serve as camouflage.
“Oh, for Christ sake, man, stand up and take your clothes off. Nobody’s here but us.” Matthew thought that Lorne could easily find the face of a wrathful goddess by looking in a mirror.
Lorne grabbed Matthew by the elbow, looked down, and saw what his model was trying to hide.
Lorne grinned. “Kinda sensitive, aren’t you, Matt?” To Matthew’s surprise, Lorne casually stroked his cock, making it jump. “This could work. Tension and desire, that’s what we need here. Let it show, man.”
Lorne pulled Matthew to his feet and helped him out of his jeans and jockey shorts. Matthew’s erection was hard and red, sticking straight out from his body. In proportion to the rest of him, his healthy young tool was surprisingly thick. The round head gleamed. Matthew glanced down and noticed that his tool looked like a giant mushroom in an enchanted forest.
Lorne licked his lips. “You still have to model for me.” He picked up the curtain and casually rubbed it over Matthew’s bare chest, his ticklish belly, his hard cock, and his red balls.
Matthew glanced at Lorne’s crotch and saw that he was sensitive too. Matthew tried to wrap his arms around Lorne, who reached behind him.
Smack! Lorne’s hand left an impression on one of Matthew’s lower cheeks. “Show me the look of a fire-goddess, baby. You promised.”
Matthew’s cock seemed to be reaching for the heavens. He felt as if he could burst with lust, admiration, confusion, and shame. He really wanted this scene to be kept a secret for all time. Matthew knew that if anyone else found out, he would need to leave town for parts unknown, disguised to look like someone completely different.
Matthew needed the comfort of Lorne’s touch. “Lorne, I want—”
“I know, baby, and you’ll get it, but I want something too.” Lorne stroked Matthew’s cock through its covering of orange rayon. “Come in here.”
Lorne led the way into his bedroom, and Matthew followed, still feeling the electric zing that ran from his ass to his painfully bouncing cock. Lorne pushed him toward the red velvet bedspread on his inviting bed, and Matthew fell gratefully onto his back.
“Up,” commanded Lorne, holding a gold satin bra. Matthew wisely kept his mouth shut as Lorne wrapped it around his back, pulling the hook toward the outermost loop to keep it fastened. Matthew could hardly breathe, but his cock actually grew harder. Lorne stuffed two fistfuls of Kleenex in the cups, creating an illusion of breasts.
“That’s better.”
Matthew wanted to be Lorne’s muse, the inspiration for his best work, but his costume made it hard to take his role seriously. “Lover-man,” crooned Matthew in falsetto. “I need you.” He rolled his shoulders seductively.
“Smart-ass,” laughed Lorne, pushing Matthew onto his side. “Don’t move.”
Lorne rummaged in his closet and came out with a long black wig from the drugstore, part of the costume for a sexy female vampire. He pulled it onto Matthew’s head and inserted four hairpins to hold it in place. “There.”
Matthew looked pleadingly up at Lorne. His face, framed in unkempt fake hair, held a certain feminine allure.
“My beauty,” sneered Lorne. “You came here to seduce me, but I am the master of my domain. I decide what happens here.”
Holding Matthew in place with one hand, Lorne used the other to slap his ass. “How do you like this?”
“Hey!” Matthew was surprised by the force Lorne put into it. The sting in his asscheek spread outward through his flesh in rings.
Whap! Lorne was breathing too heavily to speak calmly. “Not so smug now—are you, babe?”
Matthew felt tears stinging his eyes, and he desperately wanted to keep Lorne from seeing them. He struggled halfheartedly. “I—didn’t—do anything! I mean—Sir, have mercy—on a poor girl!”
Lorne tightened his grip on Matthew’s hip bone. Smack! He was alternating from one cheek to the other, and the sight of Matthew’s reddening, squirming ass seemed to fill him with cruel joy.
Matthew realized too late that he wasn’t playing the role that Lorne had told him to play. He wondered if Lorne might be especially pissed off because Matthew couldn’t seem to stay in character.
Smack! Lorne settled into a relentless rhythm. His slaps grew harder as he gained confidence. Matthew actually prayed in his own way to whatever powerful goddess might be able to hear him and willing to pour her strength into him.
“Oh!” yelled Matthew. His voice was more of a shriek than a bellow, but he needed to keep going. “You mortal scum! I am the Goddess of Fire, and—I will—have my revenge!”
Lorne actually laughed and paused to admire the results of his work. Matthew’s whole ass felt swollen to twice its usual size and grilled like a steak.
“How does this make you feel?” demanded Lorne, watching Matthew’s face. The victim tried to slide out of his tormentor’s grip.
Lorne ran a slow, gentle hand over Matthew’s red buttcheeks. Then he wrapped a fist around Matthew’s cock. “What a big clit, lady,” he snickered. “Do you want to be fucked?”
Lorne had already coated his longest finger in Vaseline, and he slid it effortlessly into Matthew’s back passage. Matthew made a kind of smothered scream as his dick erupted in ecstasy, shooting jism all over the orange fabric that covered it. Like a pulsing fire hose, his burning cock shot load after load through the soaked curtain and onto the bedspread.
Lorne watched in admiration. “Now that’s the look, Matt. That’s just the look I want. Do you think you could show me that again?”
“Christ. Lorne.” Matthew groaned and laughed. “Jesus.” He twisted on the bed, trying to find a comfortable position that wouldn’t irritate his sore ass or his drained cock. “Jeez, man, did you have to hit that hard?”
Lorne watched him, and his look made Matthew feel like a famous painter’s favorite model, or favorite whore: same thing. “Yeah, man, I did,” Lorne explained. “You know it.” Lorne’s face transformed in a broad, evil grin. “You wanted it for a long time, and I wanted to give it to you. I didn’t hold back, so you didn’t hold back. Matt, you just made my day, do you know that? Don’t wuss out on me. You can rest for a while, but then will you show me that look again?”
A smile grew on Matthew’s face as he felt loved and warmed by some invisible source of power. “Yeah. Yep, I could. For you. It might kill me, but oh, man, that was hot.”
The two young men looked into each other’s eyes, and each saw the beginning of a masterpiece.
HELPING THOSE IN NEED
Gwen Masters
I sneezed as I popped open another cardboard box. This one was filled with boxes of spaghetti, more than enough to feed two dozen families. I smiled as I pulled the little boxes out and stacked them on the long table. We already had jars of sauce, cans of everything imaginable, bags of flour and sugar, even cartons of eggs. Now the men were hauling in big crates of frozen turkeys, setting them on the table with a thud and a groan.
It was holiday time again, and the Calvary Church of Christ was doing its part by making sure families in our town had a special dinner. Times were tough this time of year, and how could anyone truly celebrate while wondering if his neighbor had enough to eat? By the time this day was over, the church storeroom would be empty, every bit of it given away. I would sleep easier knowing pantries all over town were full.
Once all the food was on the table, all of us volunteers went to work, putting a variety of food in boxes with cheery ribbons and names printed on the sides.
The first box slid down to my section of the table, already filled with cans and various boxes of nonperishable food. I glanced at the name: Donovan. They were a family
of five, whose mother had been sick for a while, and now the father had been laid off from his job at the mill. Times for them were harder than most.
I started to fill their box with enough to last them for a week, maybe more. When the box was almost full I looked around the room at the other volunteers, all busy at work and not paying any attention to me.
I slipped the candy bars out of my pocket and dropped them in the box. Three of them, one for each of the Donovan kids. I covered the candy with a bag of sugar and grinned.
“I saw that,” a voice whispered in my ear.
I looked up into the smiling eyes of Andy, the new youth leader. He was in his early twenties, a good ten years younger than me, fresh out of college, and determined to make a difference in the lives of those he touched. In his few months as youth counselor he had won the trust of some really tough kids and gotten them into church on a regular basis, thus winning the admiration of the congregation. His efforts in fundraising for the new youth center had won the respect of the deacons. He could be found in the church office almost every afternoon, his suit jacket draped over the back of a chair. He was a banker during the day but as soon as he walked out those doors, he became more interested in giving money away than in making it.
He was a straight-arrow kind of guy who had just caught me breaking the rules.
“They have three kids,” I whispered, ready to plead my case. “And when money’s tight…”
Andy lifted a hand. “Pipe down, Chelsea. I didn’t say I was going to tell anybody.”
He gave me a grin and a wink, sealing our place as conspirators. He slid my box out from under my hands, added the final touches, and wielded his tape gun to seal it up. When the next box slid down to me, I checked the name. They had one kid, didn’t they? A baby, too young to be interested in candy bars. But the next box went to a family who had a five-year-old girl. I reached into my pocket for another candy bar and caught Andy grinning at me as I dropped the chocolate into the box.
“Would you seal that up for me?” he asked. “I need to check on something.”
I ran out of candy bars after the seventh box. I hadn’t bought nearly enough to go around, but it had been all I could afford. I sighed as I pushed another box down, this one without any candy in it, and I said a silent prayer that the little boy’s mother would make him a pan of brownies to make up for it.
Andy took the box without a word. Before he sealed it, he nudged me with his elbow. I bit back a laugh as he pulled a candy bar out of his pocket and slid it in with the food. “We had a bag of them left over from Sunday school,” he explained, taping the box shut. “I think it’s enough for all of them.”
I watched the young man as he hefted the box and put it in a stack against the wall. As he walked back, he caught my eye and blushed. “You’re a good man,” I said to him as the next box made its way down the line.
He blushed even harder.
The boxes were all filled, and there had been more than enough candy bars to go around. The men loaded the boxes in the backs of trucks, their work punctuated by laughter, excited to be doing something good for someone else. The trucks left the church one by one, the boxes on their way to families that needed them. I took a deep breath and wiped my eyes.
“Makes you feel good, doesn’t it?” Andy asked. He stood beside me and waved as the final truck drove out of the parking lot. “My favorite thing is the coat drive. I love seeing the little kids come in to get their coats. I love knowing that no matter their situation, that coat is going to keep them warm through the winter.”
Andy and I both looked back at the tables where the food had been stacked, now wiped completely clean. I knew he was thinking about how much food it would take to sustain a family, and wishing there was more we could do. It was the same question that kept me coming back to help and drove me to give more of my own money than I could really afford.
Andy reached into the pocket of his khaki pants and pulled out a single candy bar. “We had one extra,” he said, slitting open the wrapper. “Want some?”
I watched as he broke the candy bar in half. A drop of caramel landed on his knuckle. I watched it slide slowly down his finger as he held half of the candy bar out to me. When I took it, he lifted his hand to his mouth and sucked the caramel away.
It was a simple motion, something I had done a million times before, but seeing him do it put a whole new spin on things. I stared openly as he took a bite of the candy bar. He licked at the caramel inside, closed his lips around it, and bit down gently, obviously savoring the taste.
My mouth went dry. My knees went weak. My face took on an incredible heat as I blushed with the impropriety of the situation. He was a youth leader in the church, for crying out loud, and I was staring at him through a sudden haze of lust.
“You’re dripping,” he said softly, and nodded at the candy bar in my hand. The caramel had run down the side of the chocolate and was making its way down my fingertips. I switched the candy bar to my other hand, grateful that something had finally made me tear my eyes away from the tall, handsome man who was much too young for me.
“Sorry,” I mumbled, not sure whether I meant the mess of the candy bar or the staring.
“Let me help you with that,” he said.
Andy took my hand in his and lifted my fingers to his lips. I watched, mesmerized, as his tongue reached out to lick the caramel from them. The warmth of his breath and the tickle of his tongue kicked my heart into overdrive. I stared at him as he took my fingertip into his mouth, licking it gently before sucking the caramel away.
“My god,” I muttered, my voice just as shaky as my knees.
Andy grinned. “This is his house.”
The impossibility of it all suddenly hit me. “I’m in a church,” I whispered. “Church. Jesus Christ.”
“Yeah, he’s probably here, too.”
I blinked in surprise and looked back up at Andy. His smile was broad but his eyes were serious. I didn’t move as he brushed a lock of hair from my forehead and gently touched my jaw. His hand lingered, caressing my skin.
“Andy?”
“Yeah,” he whispered.
“What are we doing?”
He took a step toward me. I took a step back. I bumped up against one of the long tables, with nowhere left to go. Andy leaned forward, his breath first on my cheek, then on my lips.
“We’re kissing,” he murmured.
And then we were kissing, his arms pulling me close despite the fact that his hands were covered in melting chocolate. I dropped the other half of my candy bar and wrapped my arms around him, the whole of my attention taken by what his mouth was doing to mine. What I was doing wasn’t just inappropriate, it was entirely insane. What was I thinking, kissing a man half my age in the middle of the afternoon in the basement of our church?
He pressed me back against the table, and I gasped at the first full touch of his body, the long length of him against me. Every part of him was honed and hard, but especially one part, the one that was pressing insistently against my belly. I moaned into his mouth, and he stopped kissing me long enough to nibble on my chin and whisper, “I’ve wanted to do this for weeks.”
Weeks? The thought hadn’t crossed my mind until moments before, but I was quickly catching up with him. I lifted my hips just a little, silently asking for more. He groaned and tore his lips away from mine.
“Not here,” he said.
Then where? He took my hand and led me to the office. Paperwork littered the desk. A silver cross hung on the wall above the computer. Andy swept the papers to the floor with one shaky hand and turned to me, lifting me to the desk. He slammed the door shut with his foot.
“We’ve got thirty minutes before they all come back,” I whispered, yanking at his tie.
“Good.”
Andy’s tie came over his head. He unbuttoned his shirt while I worked the belt of his pants. By the time I was done, he stood half-naked in front of me, his cock pointing at the juncture of my thighs
. I studied him in the fluorescent light as I traced the veins of his dick with my fingertip. He shuddered once under my touch but didn’t otherwise move. He simply waited and let me have my fill.
“This is so wrong,” I said.
“You’re very concerned with right and wrong, aren’t you?”
“We’re in a church!”
“You think we’re going to get struck by lightning?”
I would have laughed if not for that serious look on his face. “No.”
“You think you deserve to be spanked for what you’re doing?”
My mouth dropped open. “What?”
“I think you should pull your pants down and bend over.”
Now that was the last thing I had expected to hear when I came to the church this morning. Andy’s eyes were deadly serious as he looked at me under the bright light of his office. His cock, rock hard and eager, bobbed up and down with every breath he took.
“Bend over, Chelsea.” His tone left no room for argument.
I thought about protesting. I thought about talking some sense into this young upstart, who had the nerve to think he could order me around. I thought about the sense of modesty that had quickly disappeared, and how much it would take to get it back. Just a few words, I was sure, and then he would be the one blushing as he zipped up those pants, apologizing for his behavior.
All those things crossed my mind.
I stood up from the desk, slid my pants down my thighs, and turned away from him.
His sharp intake of breath told me he liked what he saw. I slowly bent down, pressing first my elbows to the desk, then going further and pressing my breasts against it instead, my arms extended out in front of me. My nipples were hard behind the fabric of my shirt. The cool air caressed my bare ass.
“Like this?” I asked.
He laid his hand on my back. The sudden shock of that touch on bare skin drove home what we were doing in there, in the little office in the bottom of the church building. I looked up at the cross on the wall.
Bottoms Up Page 16
