by Joanna Angel
She moved her legs open again, and I felt around her balls. I licked the stockings and garter; I liked the texture of the lingerie against my tongue. I saw the light get slightly brighter from my view underneath the table, and saw a pair of black Mary Janes along with nude stockings at my eye level. It was Janine. I was now getting acquainted with the bottom half of her body.
“I’ve got some more drinks for you!” I heard her say. It felt like when I used to watch The Muppets on Saturday morning and I only saw the mother’s legs and heard her muffled voice.
“Thank you!” Bonnie said. Bonnie put her hand behind my head and pushed me further down on her cock. I obeyed her command and accepted my duty to be the blowjob giver underneath the table. I did it with as much spit and tongue as possible while trying to remain quiet.
“Where’s your lady friend?” The waitress asked.
“She had to make a phone call. She,” Bonnie paused, “will be,” she paused again, “right back.”
I liked this power that made her struggle with her words as she searched for the proper syllables to utter. I saw closed-toe short heels get closer to me. I inched away as to not let my knee touch her, because she was getting awfully close.
“But I didn’t even see her leave the booth, how is that possible?” she asked slowly. I could taste a small amount of pre-cum at the tip of Bonnie’s cock. I slurped it up immediately.
She then kneeled down underneath the table and I was looking her right in the face with a cock in my mouth. I would have apologized for my unruly behavior but . . . my mouth was full.
“What’s going on down here?” she exclaimed. She didn’t look upset at all. She reminded me very much of the mistress of a film noir detective. Or, perhaps she was the detective since she did such a good job of finding the hidden cock-sucker underneath the table. I took Bonnie’s cock out of my mouth and looked shamefully downward.
“I was just . . . celebrating our private table in my own special way,” I said.
“I hope a lady like you has some manners and knows to share,” she uttered, with her perfect matte lipstick. I stuttered. Should I inconveniently lift my head up and get back to the top of the table and discuss with Bonnie as to whether I should share her cock or not? Should she get a say in this?
She drew the curtains again and crawled right next to me. She grabbed Bonnie’s cock and put it right in her mouth, somehow without smudging any of her lipstick. Her face was so creamy and white, I could see a layer of thick powder on her face as she got closer to me. She was like a live Barbie from the 1940s; she was just too pretty to be sucking cock on the floor. This was more of a job for the young, frumpy girl in a T-shirt.
I continued to watch her stroke and suck Bonnie’s cock. I wonder if she even knew up there that that was Janine and not me? I was fine with her not knowing and I would happily take credit for this blow job. Janine was clearly more skilled in this department than I was. She took the cock out of her mouth and she grabbed my head and fed it into my mouth. She jerked Bonnie off right into me. I moved my head up and down and attempted to use as much of my tongue as possible as she worked her hands in a twisty-like motion on the base of Bonnie’s cock. This entire evening this lovely lady has done a wonderful job of feeding a continuing stream of fine tasting things into my mouth, from green liquid, to big ice cubes, to cock.
My freshman year of college, I once walked in on my roommate fucking her boyfriend. I apologized and quickly started to head out the door and her boyfriend shouted, “It’s totally cool, why don’t you join in?” I had been a bit tipsy from a pot brownie I ate, and thought hmmm, why not? This could be fun. But then my roommate slapped her boyfriend and called him a jerk. I hadn’t seen him since. This kind of ménage à trois experience being initiated by a woman, and with another woman, but still involving a cock was much better. I’m glad karma was giving me the proper threesome experience I was meant to have.
Janine and I giggled and fought over the cock and swapped it back and forth between one another. I really wanted to see the expression on Bonnie’s face as this was all happening but I couldn’t. I could just picture her eyes rolling back into her head and her laying there in ecstasy on her special night out. Was she smiling?
Janine took my hand and ran it up her thighs. I felt her garter and stocking with one hand and Bonnie’s garter and stocking in another. I rubbed them both at once; Janine’s nude stockings were quite thick, and her garter was made of some kind of nylon. It looked very retro— after we were done with this I thought I should ask her what brand these were because we certainly did not carry them at Dreamz.
We continued to switch off sucking. She got in a different position that looked like it involved some serious practice with yoga, and she leaned her head back upside down, and pushed Bonnie’s cock downward into her mouth. Bonnie squatted on her face and thrust her cock directly in and out of Janine’s mouth. This was impressive, a very well-choreographed upside-down blow job. Her skill in this department made up for that cheesy electric candle.
Bonnie continued to thrust into Janine’s mouth. Her headband and feather still hadn’t budged. I moved in and reached my tongue out and got in wherever I could. I got a small piece of the shaft as it was on its way down to her mouth. She was hungry for cock. She still kept a smile on her face while being aggressively pummeled. She truly loved it.
She released herself from her Kama Sutra contortionist stance and we went back to good old-fashioned cock sucking. I stroked, she sucked. She sucked, I stroked. I licked, she gagged, I cupped balls while she worked on the shaft. I saw Bonnie’s knees begin to tremble, and we both sucked with more intensity, we sucked and stroked like our lives depended on it.
“Come on,” Janine whispered, and she gave Bonnie one last big gulp and I noticed her feet shaking, and her hands clenching onto the table. That wasn’t very nice! We so delightfully shared a cock, she should have rightfully shared the cum, too.
She kept her mouth closed and pulled me up back to civilization at the upside of the table. Bonnie was sitting there in relaxed ecstasy, not really looking at either of us, but up at the ceiling. I imagined she was seeing stars right then. I giggled.
Janine grabbed a cup off the table with half a cocktail left in it (something Bonnie was sipping on while she got her cock sucked) and she spit the cum into the cup. She stirred it around with a metal straw (seriously, they had metal straws) and she handed me the drink. With her lips still perfectly red and her powder completely still in place she handed me the glass and said, “Enjoy!”
It tasted like fresh, warm cum and herbs. There was a sprig of rosemary in it. Something I had once only seen inside of a Thanksgiving turkey was now flavoring semen and alcohol.
She exited our private area without saying anything. I gave Bonnie a kiss as I continued to drink her jizz. I took my time with it. After all, I was told the proper thing to do was to savor the taste, like a coffee, with a very special creamer.
To go back and go with Billy to the fair instead, Click Here.
To see how the Fantasy ends, Click Here.
The taxi cab dropped us off at the truck stop. Hand in hand, we walked through the lot lined with rows of various trucks. Many of the ones I’d seen earlier were gone, and new ones were pulling in. I was getting anxious, like my summer camp romance was ending. I would eventually have to go back to my apartment, back to work, and back to life. Or maybe I could just live on the open road with Billy and/or Bonnie and we could go from one sexual adventure to the next in each town.
We got back into the tuck, exhausted and satisfied. Bonnie started to get undressed, shedding her femininity. She got the dress off, but she was struggling with taking off her makeup. She kept scrubbing her face with soap and it wasn’t budging.
“Should we go get some actual makeup remover?” Bonnie asked me, with a face full of suds, patches of foundation, and smeared lipstick on. Earlier this evening she resembled Marilyn Monroe but now she resembled Marilyn Manson. Either way, I was int
o it.
“No! That’s a waste of money, here, use this!” I took a small bottle of olive oil he had on his very limited rack of spices and condiments. Next to it sat a salt and pepper shaker, little bottles of Tabasco, mustard, and ketchup.
“You want me to put that on my face? It’s meant to go on my salad,” she laughed.
“Yeah! It works, seriously. And it will keep your skin nice and smooth. All makeup remover really is, is a bunch of different oils that break up the makeup particles.”
She hesitantly but willingly took the olive oil out of my hands, and wiped it across her face with a tissue. As I suspected the makeup cleaned off impeccably well.
“So, what should I call you now?”
“I’m back to Billy,” he said.
“All right!” I said.
“I know. Look, I’m new at this. Bonnie is an important part of me. I’ve been waiting for her to walk around freely for so many years! And this is really exciting. But I’m also not ashamed of Billy. I am happy in my own skin, but I need to express my feminine side sometimes. I guess the best thing I can relate it to is how you would feel when you put on high heels and a designer outfit. Doesn’t it just make you feel powerful and kind of like you’re a different person that evening?” he asked.
“I have literally never worn a designer outfit in my life. Unless you consider American Apparel a designer. I once spent $42 on a long-sleeve shirt from there and I don’t know if I felt powerful but I sure felt comfortable!” I laughed.
After a pause I said, “Look, I’m fine with whoever you want to be, whenever you want to be. I’m just happy to be here!”
I kissed him, as Billy again. His cheeks were so silky from the olive oil. An “extra virgin” skin remedy after a night of public sexual escapades.
“So, where do you have to go next?’ I asked. “And when?” I wanted to begin to mentally prepare for my abandonment. Eventually the magic that existed inside this eighteen-wheeler would have to come to an end. I think.
“Actually, I’m not so sure right now,” he said.
“What do you mean? Don’t you have to, like, drive somewhere? Isn’t that what truckers do?” I laughed.
“Well, this winter was abnormally cold,” Billy said.
“Oh yeah, it was! I had to wear a real coat. AND boots. It was nuts!” I replied.
“Yeah, well when it gets that cold, the strawberries can’t grow properly, and that’s the primary fruit that I deliver. The farm I work for laid me off temporarily, until the next grow season.”
“Oh! I’m so sorry,” I said.
“Don’t be! It’s part of this business. I’m not sure what I will do. I have enough money saved to last me a while. That’s what happens when you have basically no bills to pay! The trucking job was just for something to do. I’ll just stick around here until I figure something out!”
“Well, I can’t say I’m happy that you got laid off but I am happy that you don’t have to leave.”
He grabbed two more organic frozen burritos from the tiny ice box of shelf space in his mini fridge. We listened to the whooshing sounds of the microwave, and continued to make out until it beeped.
Going back to work was surreal. It felt like it had been days since I had been there and in those few days I had had seen a man transform into a woman, then back to a man, and have sexual interactions with both him and her in various public places. My car was still here. It felt like a dream.
On the other hand, the store was a complete disaster. The floor was damaged from the rainwater and vaguely smelled like mold. Hundreds of magazines were completely destroyed and several electrical cords were frayed that plugged in the neon lights that spelled out “VIDEO DVD XXX.” At this point, I was pretty sure just being inside the store violated several safety codes.
I had no idea what to do. No one was at the store when I got there. I unlocked it at 6:30 P.M. Had anyone been here at all? Did Sandy know what was going on? Was I still on the clock right now even though nothing here really worked? Because I did desperately need my untaxed eleven bucks an hour.
The bell on the door rang (it was good to know that did still kind of work) and Sandy came in. She was wearing bright yellow galoshes, a bright orange skirt, and a silver puffy jacket, and of course, she had hot pink lipstick on her lips.
“Hello, honey!” She kissed me on the cheek and left a huge lip mark on me, which was fine because I had now become quite used to having a face stained with makeup. Instead of trying to wipe it off I just blended it into my face like a type of rouge.
“Hey, Sandy,” I said.
“Would you like some punch? I can mix some for you!” she said.
“No, Sandy! I think, uh, I think we should probably figure out what the hell to do here before we start drinking punch, right?” I said.
She paused. “Well, drinking punch usually helps me figure out what to do!” She started laughing.
“All right. Let’s drink some punch and maybe we’ll get inspired.”
Sandy pulled out a mason jar full of mystery pink liquid from her silver puffy jacket. She grabbed two plastic cups that she kept by the register, that had some sticky leftover pink residue in the bottom, and filled them up. We clinked our Solo cups together.
“Cheers!” she said. It was a small moment of joy in this half-run-down porn store.
“So what do we do?” I gave the punch a few minutes to circulate inside our bodies and seep into our brains. “I mean, don’t you have insurance, or anything of the sort?”
“Well, I came in the morning after the storm with an insurance adjuster,” she said.
“Oh, really?” I know it sounds incredibly insulting; it was just surprising to hear Sandy say the words “insurance adjuster.” The store has been open for over twenty years; sometimes I don’t give her enough credit.
“So what happened? Do they send someone to fix it?”
“Well, they couldn’t find anyone to fix anything because there’s too much damage everywhere in the town, and you know, we’re not exactly the priority around here. They would be happy if we shut down! They did give me a check, though, and told me to take care of it myself.”
“I mean, I’m sure you know plenty of repair people we could call, right?” I said.
“Honey, unfortunately the check they wrote me was for about one quarter of what it will cost to fix this place up. It was barely anything. A little less than four thousand dollars. My ex-husband was an electrician, and he owned a construction business. I know what these things cost—we will need at least fifteen thousand to fix this!” She continued to drink the punch. There were tears in her eyes.
“Sandy, why didn’t you call me?! I would have come in here and talked to them for you.” They completely took advantage of her. “Did you talk to Emma and Bradley next door? What happened to them?” I asked. There was a business right next to us run by an older couple that did vacuum cleaner and sewing machine repairs, and Sandy was friendly with them. They stayed open for about four hours a day, if that.
“Yes, they are getting full coverage. Hell, they’ll probably just retire and use their money to buy a new house! They’re getting a little over forty thousand dollars,” she sighed.
“That’s ridiculous! Their store is one-eighth the size of ours! Can’t you get a lawyer? This can’t be legal. I wish you wouldn’t have signed off on this so quickly.”
Shouldn’t the local authorities know that masturbating is far more important than fixing a vacuum cleaner? Don’t people actually just go and buy new ones when they break?
And then I remembered. After the fisting and before the public debauchery, Billy told me he used to work construction. He also told me he basically had nothing to do and a good amount of money in his bank account. Was this just meant to be? What were the chances that someone who drove up and down throughout the entire 500-mile stretch of the entire state of Florida would just happen to stumble upon this store? The fact that I worked here was completely random; I was supposed to be
a substitute teacher somewhere in Pasco County, while attempting to get upgraded to an actual teacher somewhere in Hillsborough County. But that didn’t happen. The fact that Billy wound up here was equally as random. He was supposed to be a married man by now, with a child, owning his father’s construction business, living in a Boca Raton mansion, but instead, he was living in a truck.
People used to always tell me that everything happened for a reason. But nothing ever happened to me, so there were no reasons for anything. It truly felt like everything that happened in my life happened in the way that it did just so this moment would happen the way it was right now. From the power outage, to the frozen strawberries, the path of bizarre mishaps have led us to a broken porn store with no one to fix it. I pulled out my phone and called Billy.
“Hey!” I said, “It’s me!”
“Hello! How’s it going? I miss you, pretty.”
I blushed.
“Well, the store is totally fucked up. I’m here with Sandy. Remember Sandy?”
“Hello love!” Sandy yelled loudly behind me.
“Yes, of course. The lady with the lipstick all over her face who made the punch.”
“Yes. That’s her!” I said. “So, I remember you said you worked construction. The insurance company came in here and totally ripped her off and gave her less than half of what she will need to get this place back up and running. Would you want to help?”
Silence came from his end. Shit. I don’t know why I was expecting him to just suddenly say yes. Maybe this was a mistake.
“You can, like, think about it and call me back if you want,” I said.
Sandy was now chugging her punch straight from the jar. She wasn’t bothering to pour it into a cup any longer.
