The Size Anthology

by KT Morrison

“Well, it happened, baby. I thought you might not want to talk about it. I was giving you space.”

  “No, I’m glad. I’m glad.” He was looking out across the room while she fooled with his hair.

  “Pete?”

  “Yeah?”

  “There’s more.”

  “Oh, no, Jess, oh baby—”

  “More to come, I mean.”

  “It’s not something you’ve already done?” His eyes pleaded with her.

  “No, baby, it’s something I’m going to do. And you’re going to watch.”

  “I am?”

  She stood up and went to where he could see her at the foot of the bed. His wet eyes went over her, took her in, standing there in her slinky black dress and bare feet. Her arm went behind her back and she drew the zipper down, let him hear the teeth unclenching in the quiet room.

  “There’s a chance,” she said, “we can get you what you want.”

  “Really?” his face was drawn and anxious. This was too much for him and it was delighting her.

  She held her dress up by the bust, pinching the two cups between her thumb and forefinger. She wiggled her hips a little bit, let it drop, lowering it by her fingertips. Down over her bare breasts, catching on her hardened nipples.

  “You’re bare,” Pete said.

  “Just wait...” She swayed a little, helping the fabric slide down her flesh. She slowed as she got it to her hips, dragging out her revelation.

  “Jess...” Pete’s eyes were as wide as they could be. Waiting to see her revealed.

  She let the dress sit right at the V of her thighs and the crease of her hips. Then her fingers opened and she let it fall to the floor, standing completely naked in front of him.

  “Jess, you had nothing on under there all night?”

  She stepped between his open legs and ran her fingers through the hair at the back of his head.

  “I wanted it to be easy for Tyler to fuck me.”

  “Jess, you didn’t—”

  “I was prepared for it. I wanted it. I got myself wet thinking about it.” She watched him swallow, his face tense but beaten.

  “You wouldn’t. Not there—what if you got caught?”

  She smiled and shrugged. “He’s worth it.”

  “You’re killing me.”

  “I know,” she laughed, put her arms around his neck. “Touch me.”

  His hand felt warm going up her thigh. He slid the knuckle of his thumb up until it bumped into her folds. His thumb opened, the tip of it parting her and sliding right inside her with ease.

  “You are so wet.”

  “That’s from thinking what Tyler would do to me if I pulled him into a powder room when we were there,” she whispered to him.

  “What did you want him to do?”

  His thumb worked her, made her close her eyes. “Take me from behind, bent over the toilet. Pull my dress up and fuck me with that big cock. Put his hand over my mouth so I couldn’t make a sound.”

  “You really thought about him.”

  “I really did.”

  “Is that what you want me to watch?”

  “Do you want to see that?”

  “I do,” he said, his voice trembling.

  “Are you ready for the next step?”

  “Oh, Jess, I am.” He closed his eyes and rested his head on her chest.

  “I invited him for dinner. He’s coming a week tomorrow. I told him you had to go away for the weekend, a conference.”

  “Oh, God.” He hugged her to him tightly, he squeezed her so she could barely breathe.

  “He’s coming here to fuck me. He thinks he’s going to spend the night here, do all sorts of dirty things to me. We’re going to have to convince him it’s okay to do all the filthy things he wants while you watch.”

  “He thinks you’re a dirty, cheating housewife.”

  “He doesn’t know about your little penis. Doesn’t know you don’t think it’s fair that it’s the only one I’ll get.” Her voice was a delicate whisper that tickled his ear.

  “Jess, baby, I can’t believe how wet you are.” His fingers worked inside her. The room was so quiet except for the obvious slurping sounds being made between her legs.

  “Sit back, baby, sit back,” she said.

  He let her go, reluctant to do it, leaned back on the bed.

  “Take your little dick out,” she told him. His hands were shaking, working his belt, but he got it, and then he was tugging on the zipper. He pulled his cock out for her, showed it to her between a thumb and finger.

  “You are going to die, Pete, when you see what Tyler’s got.”

  “Jess, please,” he clutched a hand over his heart. She was hurting him. She was going to kill him.

  She laughed as she got to her knees between his legs, said, “I can’t wait for you to see me with it,” then put his cock right in her mouth, all the way to the base. He was so hard she didn’t think he’d last a minute.

  Pete groaned out above her, loud, and he fell flat back on the bed. Precum surged from him, filled her mouth up. She smelled it in her nose when she exhaled. Her fingers pushed his balls up under her bottom lip, then she popped them into her mouth, doing it one at a time. Her mouth was stuffed with him. Her tongue stroked the belly of his cock, going up to the tip then diving between his balls, pushing them apart. He was making all sorts of crazy noises above her, saying her name; she could feel him thrashing about. He exploded down her throat. So much semen she thought she might choke, but she breathed and swallowed it and took it all. Pete was roaring out and slamming his fists into the bed as she drank his bitter seed up.

  “Oh, God, Jess, oh, God...”

  She climbed up him, got face-to-face with him. She wiped at her bottom lip with a finger.

  “I love you so much, Jess,” he said looking in her eyes.

  “I love you too, baby,” she said. “Will you still love me when you watch me do that to Tyler?”

  “I will. Is he going to come in your mouth?”

  “I’m going to drink every last drop of him. His balls are so big, I bet it’s a huge load. I wonder what he’ll taste like?”

  “Steroids, probably.”

  He broke her spell. She collapsed on him, her head into his collar, laughing into his neck. He caught her so off-guard, he had her cackling, her back shaking.

  “Oh, Pete, you got me, baby,” she said, sitting up, straddling his chest. “You think he’ll taste like steroids?”

  “Creatine? I don’t know. If you swallow his load and your back breaks out in zits we’ll know he’s juicing.”

  She unbuttoned his shirt for him, smiling at him. “Come on, he’s my sexy toy. Don’t make fun of him.”

  His face went serious. “Jess, you’re so beautiful. Too beautiful for me.”

  She put her hands on his bare chest, said, “Thank you, baby.”

  She dipped her head down and kissed him. “Okay?” she asked him.

  “Yeah.”

  She walked her knees up over his shoulders so her sex was over his face. She lowered her dripping wet mound to his mouth, his hands locked over her thighs, took them firmly, and his tongue worked through her. He was an absolute master down there and he had her panting in no time. He punished her back for all her games, bringing her close then letting her go. He had her heart hammering in her chest and she was sweating.

  “Oh, Tyler,” she cried out and grabbed handfuls of sheets in her fists.

  Pete gave it to her now. He went wild, his tongue pounding her swollen button, and she knew she had his permission.

  So she shouted out, “Tyler, Tyler,” over and over again, thought about that night two weeks ago when her thirty-five year old pussy took that kid’s huge cock in the minivan. She thought about his hard body under her fingertips, and she came on Pete’s tongue, barking out her lover’s name and picturing all the things she was going to make her husband watch her do to him.

  Cherry Blossoms

  1

  Little Choo
/>   Friday, May 12th

  GEOFF

  Geoff J. Kane was on a deadline but tonight he was silkscreening. Three weeks from now he had to turn in fourteen large scale drawings of happy trains for his editor. The Big Book of Choo. A three-to-six year-old readers’ favourite, and award winner, the bestselling Choo original had spawned this sequel. His first book, The Little Book of Choo, was in its eighth printing. They’d had to shake their wallets out to get him to draw that many trains again. On top of the trains, he had three books about farm animals, a kind of a sad book about divorce, and three covers for Scholastic books. His inimitable style had become a hot children’s commodity since Little-Choo came out three years ago.

  The fourteen drawings could wait. He knew his pace. He wasn’t worried. Eight weeks from now there was an expo in Toronto where he had a table and he wanted an inventory of prints to sell.

  So, his garage space studio, out back of the Roncesvalles fully detached two-story, had been transformed. All his tables had wheels on them that could roll them around wherever he wanted on the polished and painted concrete floor. The computer tables and ink station had all been pushed to the side, and in the centre he had one cleared table with all his silkscreening gear.

  He was printing one single lone image: a cheeky monkey, stylized and happy, almost sugary. Conjuring up Hong Kong Phooey and Paul Pope and Miyazaki all at once. Whatever the reason, this bold simple image worked. Drawn with ink and dirty brushes, scanned, cleaned, Photoshopped, run through his Ryonet exposure unit, then screened by hand with purplish Speedball on a cherry-stained dove-tailed box that he’d built himself. There were fresh prints on countless 100lb peach-orange sheets, draped over every surface in the studio; over his iMacs, his paintbrushes, his mechanic’s chest filled with quills and inks and exotic pieces he’d ordered online and not yet used, even sheets draped over his prized Cinelli ten-speed propped against a white painted brick wall.

  The baby monitor was spared coverage. Its screen needed to be viewed. Little Odele was seven years old now but the garage was detached from the house and mommy was out with her friends. He never liked his eyes off her anyway. She was tucked into her bed, a silky tapestry hanging from the ceiling and draped around the bed, a big stylish old oak tree he’d painted in white against a pink wall wrapped its gnarly arms around her. She was fast asleep. Fuck, it was past 3 A.M. Where was Nia?

  She’d gone out with some of her old friends from Woodbridge. Bunch of Italian girls from her old neighbourhood getting together, coming into the city and going out to Square on Queen Street. A dance club, kind of a young crowd, rooftop patio. Not the kind of thing from her current life but very much like something young Nia would have done on a Friday night when he’d first met her. That was an intimidating Nia. Just thinking about those early days with her could cramp his stomach. She was a bit wild, a lot of fun. Nothing like his whitebread suburban ass was used to dealing with. She smoked, she cursed, she was s-e-x-u-a-l. He’d only ever slept with three girls and talking to Nia back then always made his palms sweat and he’d get this weird nervous tension thing where his ears would ring powerfully. She was a lot to handle. But she was the one. The one for him. Under all of it there was a kind and warm loving person and she responded to him. He was her friend first. Shit, for two years at York University he’d be her shoulder to cry on when some complete fucking asshole dumped her, not seeing how amazing she truly was. Then, gradually, she would look into his eyes a little longer. She was considering him in new ways. One night she kissed him. She kissed him. He’d always wanted to do it. In two years, seeing her almost every day, he just never got the nerve. One night she decides she likes him and bam, she locks lips. After that kiss there was no looking back. It was on. Once he had her he’d never let her go.

  There was a thunk in the back alley. The converted garage opened out behind the house to a wide well-lit and treed alley that separated it from the backs of the other houses on Garden Street. There she was, getting out of a green and orange taxi. Long legs, so long, high heels and the short fuchsia skirt of her dress peeking out below her jacket. Just like that sexy twenty year old he’d long for back at University. He smiled, watching her walk boldly up to the garage seeing his lights were still on. She was bold but obviously clumsy. His bad girl had a few too many glasses of wine. “Oh, Nia,” he laughed, watching her pretty face smiling to him, catching him spying on her from the small square window in the wall that was once a garage door. Their Volvo sat just outside the door in the short gravelly mouth that led off the alley. She ran her hand along it as she passed, trying to steady herself. He opened the door for her and let her in.

  “Hi, baby,” she said, very high and breathy. Happy to see him. He hugged her tight, said, “I guess you had fun tonight.”

  “Mm—I did,” she sang, hugged him back and rocked gently with him.

  She was tall. Taller than him in her heels. His Greek goddess. She had thick, heavy, lustrous black hair that hung in waves and natural rings. She smelled like Chanel and wine and cigarette smoke and her familiar woman smell. She’d been hot and sweaty from dancing. He ran his hands on her back sneaking them up under her jacket.

  “I missed you tonight,” he said.

  Her arms came up and draped over his shoulders, her clutch held in her hand, she regarded him coolly under half lidded black-makeup eyes. “I missed you, too.”

  “How are Angie and Donna?”

  “They were great, it was good to see them,” she said and she kissed his lips lightly, pulled back and smiled crooked. She was so beautiful it still intimidated him, even after fourteen years knowing her. She had strong features; a Roman nose, a sharp jaw, and dark, dark eyes. At night, like right now, they looked black. She had them rimmed with shadow and the way she stood, just a bit taller than him, kissing him and smiling down on him, he felt a bit like prey.

  “All the girls show up?”

  “A bunch from high school...from Woodbridge.”

  “Aw, did you catch up?”

  “Nah, just had fun. It was too loud. We danced...you know...”

  “Had some drinks?”

  “We did,” she nodded, her smile widening until he saw her white teeth past her deep red lipstick. She turned her back to him, threw her clutch onto a clear corner of a table and took her jacket off. Her dress hugged her slender frame. He watched the bare olive muscles of her back work as she took her jacket and folded it and plopped it on a stool. She was thirty-three but she looked twenty still. Smooth Mediterranean skin, glowing with health and vigour, long legs that showed muscle and grace, her painted toes pointed into a pair of black stilettos.

  “You’ve been busy,” she said, looking around at all the prints, face up and drying.

  “Yeah, I totally lost track of time, I—”

  “You weren’t staying up to discipline your naughty wife, she was—”

  “Do you need discipline?”

  “Maybe.”

  He said, “Were you flirting tonight? Like you’re flirting with me.”

  “Oh shit,” she said, and she clapped her hands and stomped a high heel foot. Her face lit up with happiness at her great news, “Guess who got a job?”

  “You did? Really?” It was time. They’d talked about it. Odele back in school now for a year, Nia was getting antsy around the house. She’d been his companion around here, his assistant, but she was eager to work away from the house. His books were selling but the first one, the bestseller, was freelance illustration. He didn’t get royalties. Money was coming in now pretty good on new jobs but a little more wouldn’t hurt. Toronto was not getting cheaper.

  “Yeah, yeah, I did, I think,” she said, and she tip-toed to him again and put her arms around him.

  “That’s so great, Nia, so amazing, baby. What is it?”

  “Like an assistant. A secretary, some bookkeeping. A... pool company, in Etobicoke.”

  “That’s awesome, Nia. How did you—”

  He saw her face seem a little troubled. Lik
e good news and bad news. She was happy still but there was a little problem.

  Her voice went high, ending everything with a question, she said, “Dino...uh...Dragonieri? Uh...his brother, Rocco? He...uh...has a pool company...”

  “Dino?” Her ex-boyfriend. Firefighter.

  “Yeah,” she said, “his brother, Rocco.”

  He frowned. “How did you get the job?”

  “Well, he was there tonight.” She looked away from his eyes by a degree.

  “Rocco?”

  “No...Dino.”

  “Oh,” he nodded, looked away now too.

  “Geoff, baby, come on...”

  “I thought it was just you and the girls...I didn’t go...”

  “I didn’t know he was going to be there, Geoff, I swear. He tagged along with some other guys from school too, they came down because the girls were...they weren’t supposed to be coming.”

  God, she’d just stabbed him in the guts with this. Here he was thirty-three and he felt like he was dating again, felt like he hadn’t yet married and nailed down this love of his life in front of him. This was shades of University. Nia crying on his shoulder because some jerk had cheated on her or just brushed her off after three weeks dating. He’d console her and think how crazy those guys were. What did they have that he didn’t? They were good enough to get her eye, date her, but then not keep her? How could they callously slough off a gem like Nia? He’d just time-travelled and all he wanted was to race back to the present, yesterday night at least, laying on the couch with his wife and daughter, popcorn bowl and pyjamas, rubbing Nia’s feet and ankles through her long comfy socks.

  She said, “Geoff?” Her brows had gone up, worried for him.

  “I’m okay,” he lied. “Whatever.”

  He tried to pull away from her but she wouldn’t let him. Her arms held their grip on him and he struggled but she just held him tighter. “Not whatever, Geoff. Not whatever. Come on. I swear I didn’t know and it doesn’t matter anyway, does it? That was all a long time ago.”

  “I’m sorry,” he said, he looked down at the floor, a broad peach sheet had strayed down there, his dumb cheeky monkey looking up and giving him a wink.