by Mia Madison
A Day And Forever
Mia Madison
Contents
1. Bar Scene
2. The Stranger
3. Old Friend
4. The Lake
5. High Grass
6. Scheming
7. Backseat
8. Tough Advice
9. Sex and Sushi
10. Cafe
Epilogue
Also by Mia Madison
About the Author
A DAY AND FOREVER
Copyright © 2017 by Mia Madison
All rights reserved.
This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author or publisher except for the use of brief quotations in critical articles or reviews.
This is a work of fiction. Names, places, businesses, characters and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, actual events or locales is purely coincidental.
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
1
Bar Scene
Jack
It was a spur of the moment decision, a quick flick of the steering wheel onto the graveled parking lot of a bar set in a small clearing among the tall, brooding pines, that sealed the sequence of events that occurred. Would it have been any different had I continued on and not made that pit stop?
Possibly.
We would have still met, that much was a given, but I would probably have exercised more control, thrown more logic to counter my feelings.
And my heart would never have known joy.
But I had turned the wheel, tasted the forbidden fruit, and there was no going back after that.
The bar was like countless others I’d come across in my life: dark, reddish lighting, an old TV stuck to the wall behind the counter broadcasting movies from the 80’s, background 80’s music emanating from cracked speaker systems, and only a handful of loyal patrons hanging around, hugging their drinks and reminiscing quietly about an era long gone.
The one difference, and a sure indication of a world gone mad, was the no smoking sign at the door and at almost every conceivable spot your eyes could wander to.
What the fuck? A bar that didn’t allow smoking?
I stood at the entrance, undecided, and almost turned around, but I had already driven for ten hours nonstop. I was tired and thirsty, and I needed to get some alcohol in me before I met up with my old friend.
I sat down, ordered a beer, and pulled out a pack of cigarettes.
The bartender, an old man who looked like he had just stepped off a Lord of the Rings set, was in my face before I had a chance to pull a stick out.
“Ain’t no smoking in here,” he rasped, his breath smelling oddly enough like tobacco.
“Really?” I said.
The man pointed a crooked finger at a sign to my left without breaking his stare. I followed his finger, and, from the corner of my eye, realized there was another person in the bar I hadn’t noticed earlier. She was sitting in the furthest table, half her silhouette in shadows, half basked in gloomy reddish glow. I barely made out full lips painted bright red, thick eyebrows, thick lashes, dark hair, and large, brown, expressive eyes.
She wore a white t-shirt that hugged her chest tightly and showcased a pair of good-sized tits, cut-off shorts that highlighted long, toned legs, and black, laced up military boots.
She looked fucking hot.
The pounding of a fist on the counter brought my attention back to Gandalf the Bartender. Apparently he had been saying something that I had totally missed. He stared at me, waiting for a response.
“Uh, sure,” I said, hoping I was in the ballpark of what he wanted to hear.
The man grunted and turned around. I breathed a sigh of relief.
Fuck, I thought. This man gives me the creeps.
The beer arrived, cold to point of being almost glacial. I downed half in one swig, wiped my mouth, and stole another glance at the corner. The woman was looking at me intently. Our eyes met, and my dick lurched in my pants.
Jesus, what’s wrong with me?
I knew what was wrong with me, of course. My whole life had just crashed. Got kicked out of my home and fired from my work at the same time. How’s that for a shitty day?
Note to self: Never work at a company owned by the father of your bitch of a wife.
Correction, ex-wife.
I finished the first beer and immediately asked for another. It had the same frigid temperature. The bartender might look like he was from Middle-Earth, but he sure had a kick-ass cold fridge.
Two of the old timers got up and dropped a twenty in an empty glass.
“See you tomorrow, Andy,” one of them said, waving to the bartender.
Andy? I stared at the ancient-looking man. What the fuck kind of name is that? He doesn’t look like an Andy.
“What you staring at, boy?”
Boy? I’m forty years old!
“Your name’s Andy?”
“Yeah, so?”
“You don’t look like an Andy.”
“Yeah, what am I supposed to look like?”
Gandalf.
I shrugged. “Not Andy.”
The bartender shook his head, pocketed the twenty, and turned his back to me, his attention on the TV. I throttled my beer consumption, taking short gulps, my mind returning to the woman in the corner. From my last couple of glances back it didn’t look like she had moved at all. I debated walking over and starting a conversation, but I was a stranger in town, and the one thing I knew from past experience was to never approach a local girl sitting all alone unless I was absolutely sure she was giving me the right signals.
She could be Gandalf’s daughter, for fuck’s sake.
I debated my options. If she was the daughter of the bartender, what was the worst that could happen? He’d scold me, tell me to stay the fuck away from her. I was cool with that.
But what if she was waiting for her beefy boyfriend to show up? Maybe the guy was pulling a late shift and he was already on his way. I had that exact same thing happen to me in New Orleans one time when I was still single. I stepped into a bar pretty much like this one but without the ridiculous no smoking signs. I zeroed in on the sexy girl sitting by herself and moseyed my way to her table. I introduced myself, sat down, and we had a good conversation going when the boyfriend appeared with five of his buddies and accused me of trying to steal his girl.
It didn’t go well for me that night.
What were the chances of the same thing happening to me again? Was this like getting struck by lightning twice, where the odds of getting hit again becomes astronomical? Or was it a common scenario? Maybe the boyfriend would be some skinny punk with a bad case of pimples, and I could easily kick his ass.
I stared at my beer while I wrestled with my options. The one thing I knew was I already had a hard-on and I could use a quick fuck right about now. It would certainly dampen the shit storm I was currently having.
I made up my mind, grabbed my beer and got up.
Shit.
The girl was gone.
“Fuck,” I whispered, sitting back down.
The bartender turned. “What was that?”
“Nothing,” I said, mentally kicking myself for taking so damn long. I looked a
round but she was nowhere in sight. Shaking my head at the ridiculous stack of misfortunes I could have in a single day, I downed the rest of my beer, slapped a twenty on the counter, and made my way to the restroom. I paused when I discovered a partially curtained area adjacent to it that lead to the back of the bar, and went through it instead.
The Oregon evening air was cool, much cooler than from California where I had driven from. I glanced around, made sure there weren’t any no smoking signs tacked to the back of the bar, and lit one up. With the cigarette in my mouth I walked a few paces to a bush, unzipped, and took a long piss while mentally planning the last leg of my trip.
I gave myself a few shakes, zipped up, and turned around, realizing only then I had a spectator.
The girl from the bar was leaning against the wooden wall, her arms crossed. staring at me with those large, expressive brown eyes. She was very pretty, and very young, probably no more than twenty. Her makeup seemed overly done, as if she tried to make herself look older. It worked inside with the crappy lighting, but out here, in the moonlight, I could see through the facade.
I walked to her, thinking of something witty to say, but before I could speak she took my cigarette, tossed it, and kissed me. It was a deep, torrid kiss. She tasted like fresh lily and sweet honey, her lips soft, her body trembling slightly, her hands tugging at my jeans, unzipping me, and digging inside.
Sweet Jesus, I thought as her cold hand cupped me.
Without saying a word, she knelt in front of me, pushed my pants and boxers halfway down, and took me in her mouth. I groaned in pleasure, unable to believe what was happening. She sucked me in a way I had never been sucked before, her technique gentle and light, her movements slow, almost as if she were savoring the taste of cock for the first time.
After a few minutes of pleasuring me with her mouth, she got up, kissed me urgently, and whispered in my ear.
“Fuck me,” she said, her voice raspy and thick with lust.
That did it. Something primal in me took over. I suddenly wanted her bad, wanted her more than anything else in the world. I undid the buttons of her shorts, pulled them down, and pulled down her white, soaked cotton panties. Her smooth, pale skin glowed in the moonlight, and she had the cutest shaved slit I had ever seen in my life. I turned her around, spread her cheeks apart, and entered her.
The girl stiffened and stifled a scream. Fuck, but she was tight, so fucking tight.
I pushed through.
“Ouch, ouch,” she said, backing away. I slammed her back in me and kept thrusting, penetrating her again and again, moving a little bit deeper inside her with each new thrust until her ass was slapping against my pelvis.
I lifted her shirt, unsnapped her bra, and squeezed her full breasts from behind.
Holy fuck, I thought as my hands melted on her skin. She’s got the softest tits I’ve ever felt.
I settled into a slow rhythm, fucking her with nice, even strokes, my hands alternating between her breasts and cheeks as if I couldn’t get enough. Everything about her screamed fresh. Her scent alone was driving me crazy, and the soft, suppressed moans she uttered whenever I pushed myself deep inside her flooded my brain with a constant dose of pure dopamine.
I wanted to stay inside her forever, but I was nearing the peak of pleasure, approaching the point of no return. I increased my pace, slamming into her with renewed urgency as my breath quickened and I felt the impending release. I pulled out at the last second, exploding my load all over her ass and up her sinewy spine.
It was the biggest, longest lasting orgasm I’ve had in like, forever.
The girl straightened, pulled her shorts up and fixed her shirt without bothering to wipe my cum off her. She turned, and I saw the tears running down her face, but she gave me the most beautiful, radiant smile I had ever seen on a girl.
“Thanks,” she said, kissing me lightly on the lips. She turned and walked quietly around the building. A few seconds later I heard a car start up and the crunching of tires on the graveled lot, and then she was gone.
I zipped up, lit a fresh cigarette, and stared at the clear evening sky.
What the fuck was that about?
I had no idea, but the images and sensations of sliding in and out of that tight little pussy kept repeating itself in my mind, and I knew I had to have her again.
I needed to find her.
I finished my smoke and went back in.
“Hey Andy,” I said.
The bartender was in the exact same spot as when I left, watching TV. He turned toward me reluctantly. “You back already? Another beer?”
“No, no, I gotta go. But I just wanted to ask you… that girl in here earlier, the one sitting in the corner. Do you know her?”
He looked at me. “Why?”
“I need to ask her something.”
Andy’s heavily wrinkled face scrutinized me. “Why?”
I sighed. “Look, if you know her, is there a way I can get a message to her? It’s really important.”
Andy the Bartender stared at me suspiciously for a few seconds, then shrugged. “Don’t know her. Never seen her before.”
“Are you sure?”
He glared at me as if I were an imbecile.
“Okay,” I said, raising my hands. “Alright, I believe you.” I dug into my wallet for an old business card. “Got a pen?”
Andy grumbled, rummaged behind the counter, and handed me a Bic.
I scratched the front - a part of me still unable to believe I no longer had a job - and turned the card over. I wrote my name and mobile number, and placed it on the counter, along with another twenty dollar bill.
“Please,” I said, sliding both the card and the money across. “If you see her again, give her this. Tell her I need to speak with her.”
Andy looked at me, then at the card and the twenty. “Fine,” he said, pocketing both.
“Thanks Andy,” I said, making my way toward the exit.
“Hey,” Andy called.
I turned around.
“Your name Jack?”
“Yup. Why?”
“You don’t look like no Jack to me,” he said, chuckling and giving me a creepily scary smile before he focused once more on his TV.
I shook my head, suppressed the urge to give his back the finger, and walked out of the bar.
2
The Stranger
Kate
I did it. I actually did it.
My legs kept trembling and my pussy ached as I made the long drive home, but my mind was high on sex and the man who broke my virginity. I had already spontaneously orgasmed twice in the last fifteen minutes.
Twice!
The second time was so intense I had to pull over the side of the road and let the waves roll over me as I gasped and moaned, holding on to my seatbelt with one hand, my other hand rubbing my hard nipples under my shirt.
Fuck!
By the time I pulled into the driveway I was sweating despite the cool air. I dug in my shorts for my key, opened the front door, and bounded up the stairs to my room before mom and dad could spot me.
Once I got inside my bedroom, I kicked off my shoes and removed my shorts and panties. The crotch area was wet with my cum and some blood stains. I tossed them in the hamper, along with my sticky tee shirt and bra, and jumped in the shower.
I still couldn’t believe I pulled it off. For some time now I had been aching to get laid, to see how it felt like having something other than my fingers in me. My friends had told me their experiences, but I couldn’t relate. None of the boys I knew wanted to go more than first base with me. Maybe they thought they would go to hell if they ever did anything to me.
Being an eighteen-year-old virgin sucked. Being an eighteen-year-old virgin daughter of a minister sucked even more.
It all started when I woke up in the morning feeling a weird, strong tingling all over my body - a horniness I couldn’t shake. Melissa, my BFF, just laughed when I mentioned it to her.
“Just play
with your clit, silly!” she said while we were having lunch at the mall.
A couple of the guys at the next table glanced at us, smiling. I knew them well. They were douchebags.
“Keep your voice down,” I said, glaring at her. “Anyway, I tried it. Didn’t work.”
Melissa shrugged. “Get a boyfriend.”
“Yeah, like anyone would touch me. I feel like I’ve got the plague or something.”
“Worse,” Melissa said, chomping down on a fat, juicy burger.
“What the hell’s so taboo about being a minister’s daughter anyway?” I asked, stabbing my salad with the fork.
“It’s just that your dad is such a prominent and active figure in the community. Everyone knows him. Maybe everyone thinks of him - and you - as God’s sidekick.”
“But I’m not even religious!”
“Look, Kate,” Melissa said, wiping her greasy hands on the napkin before attacking her burger again. “All I’m saying is that everyone here knows you, and even your hot looks isn’t going to sway anyone to mess with the daughter of the divine Lord’s messenger in this God-fearing town. If you really want to get banged, you gotta look somewhere else.”
And there it was. In a single crystal clear thought, my friend Melissa had planted the seed of an idea that grew every hour until it became an all-encompassing obsession. By dinner time I had made up my mind.
I would lose my virginity that night.
I lied to my parents, telling them I was going out with friends, and gave myself a much heavier makeup than normal in the hope I would look older. A wig would have been nice, but unfortunately I didn’t have access to one.
I drove forty miles out, skipping the first three bars on the outskirts of town to make sure I didn’t bump into anyone who would recognize me. When I spotted the rustic bar that was almost completely hidden from the highway and surrounded by tall pines I thought I found the perfect spot.
Until I stepped inside.
The bar was almost completely empty. There were only five customers inside, and none of them were in any condition whatsoever to give me what I needed. I almost turned around right then, but the bartender, whom I swore was the spitting image of Gandalf, nodded to me.
