Did I really like teaching Women's Studies at Alder Creek Community College?
I don't know anymore.
It was a good job, it gave me the impression of making a difference.
It got me in my electric car twice a day, crawling throughthe poisonous fumes of the highway.
To get to Alder Creek Community College and back it took me two hours every day. The stress and tension of driving really left me exhausted, and I sort of envied Milo, my partner, that could get away with commuting on his bicycle.
He got home every day before me.
So that evening I got out of my Leaf and tiredly waved hello to my partner, as he waited for me in front of our small house. He waved back.
I stretched and looked over the fence. Our neighbor was not in sight, and his cursed stereo was silent.
Small graces.
Now we had discussed this often with Milo. We both agreed that judging the man by his looks was wrong and dishonest, and that it was certainly unfair to hold against him the fact that he was a former convict. People should be judged by what they do, not by their looks or by their past. And yet, the man was a boor and a troglodyte.
His name was Angus. I had caught him often, as I went out in the morning, working on his bike and drinking beer.
He was polite, sure, always saying hello and all that. He had even given Milo a gift for his birthday. A box of cigars, of all things.
But despite his attempts at a civilized behavior, Angus dressed like a roadhog, smoked the same horrid cigars he had given Milo, and listened to rock music so loud he would wake the dead.
But Milo had promised he would talk to him, and the momentary quiet that greeted me was a sign he had done so.
We hugged and kissed, and Milo took my book bag inside. He had made dinner already. It was a decision we both shared that no preconceived gender roles should interfere with our household.
After dinner, I stretched on the sofa while Milo put Enya on the stereo and lit some candles. I could see where the night was going, and it was fine with me. There was much more to our relationship than sex, of course, but some cuddling and soft lovemaking once a week was a good way to release our stress.
Milo started massaging my feet, his hands working wonders. I laid back with a deep sigh and relaxed while his fingers ran up my calves.
He was brushing by my knees when all odf a sudden chaos blared through our windows, causing the windowpanes to rattle.
AC/DC’s ”Hell’s Bells”.
I jumped and stiffened and looked at Milo.
“I thought you said that you talked to him,” I said, sitting up.
He shook his head. “I did. Apparently it wasn’t enough. I’ll talk to him again.” He stood and headed to the bedroom.
“Our inconsiderate neighbor isn’t in the bedroom, Milo.”
“I’m getting a peace offering.”
He returned carrying the stupid box of cigars, with the red devil on the lid and the name “Fausto” in bold letters.
I stared at him, my arms crossed, as he put on his sandals and went out.
Soon the din was over.
But Milo did not come back. I looked out in the dusk. He was there talking with the neanderthal. I shook my head. He was just too polite.
After a while, I went back to our bedroom, and sat there waiting. Then I decided I may as well lay down.
When Milo finally was back, I ignored him and pretended to be asleep. I heard him take his clothes off and slip under the cover. The smell of stale smoke hit me as he rubbed himself against me, his hands massaging my breasts.
“You reek,” I said, pushing his hand back.
“Angus was smoking a cigar while I talked to him. It took some convincing, but he agreed to keep the music down all next week.”
I rolled over and glared at him. He kissed me. His breath was foul.
“And why do you have cigar breath?” I asked. I could barely imagine my partner sharing a cigar with that caveman. “Please tell me you weren’t smoking one of those foul things.”
“It was all part of the deal.” He wrapped his arms around me and tried to pulled me close. His erection rubbed against my thigh, stiff as a pencil. “Let’s make love. I want you so bad right now.”
I was outraged. “Take a shower and wash that stink off you. And brush your teeth. Your breath is turning my stomach.”
“Okay, but then after, let’s make love. I need you tonight.”
To think he would come in here and advance sexual requests like this! “I don’t think so, Milo. If he keeps the music off like you promise, then maybe later in the week.”
I heard him go to the bathroom, and then I heard the shower going. Soon I was asleep.
The next morning, I grabbed a biologic apple from the fridge and was out before Milo was up. I felt offended and uneasy about the previous night. And there was some guilt, there, too. I hated when I was forced to keep Milo’s advances in check like that.
Our neighbor was nowhere to be seen, and his bike was missing too.
I met Daisy for our planned night out soon after work.
Daisy had been my friend since grade school. She had always been a very timid, naive girl. After graduation she had done some post-grad work, while I did secretary work with an eco-solidal startup. If possible, Daisy’s introverted character had taken a turn for the worst during her university time. She had never talked openly about her experiences, but her body had paid the price for the stress she was obviously suffering. At five-three, she weighed around 180 pounds, and normally dressed in shapeless, self-effacing clothes to hide her pear-shaped body to the world. She was doing data-entry for a big energy company, a work that suited her silent, solitary character.
“Hello,” she whispered as she climbed in the Leaf.
Daisy always spoke with a soft voice, keeping her eyes low and blushing for nothing. Come to think of it, I never heard her talk to Milo, whenever we hung out together.
“Ready to let your hair down?” I asked, trying to sound cheerful.
She shrugged.
Something was off.
“Bad day at work?” I asked.
She nodded, still staring at the dashboard.
“Was it about that promotion?”
She nodded again. She had been working real hard to get a raise and a shift to a better position. “What happened?”
Daisy shrugged. “Claire…” she sighed.
Claire was sharing her cubicle. She was a bubbly brunette with a penchant for tight skirts and sweaters. I could see where this was going. “They gave her the post?”
Daisy just nodded, and sighed. “They said the company needed a more assertive person.”
We drove in silence until we were home.
The music was again blaring.
I got out of the car and walked to the fence. It was time I sat things straight with the brute next door. Daisy walked behind me, keeping real close.
What I saw caused me to stop on my feet.
“What are you doing, Milo?”
He turned and stared at us. He was sitting on the ground, covered in grease and smoking a cigar. He was wearing a dirty tank top. Milo smiled, pulled a mouthful from a beer can and stood. He had been working on a motorcycle while listening to that atrocious din.
“Just a sec,” he yelled.
He wiped his hands on a dirty rag and turned the radio off.
“That’s better. Now I can hear you.” He puffed happily on his cigar. “What can I do you for?”
I watched him blow smoke from his nose and drink again from the can. Then he squashed it and tossed it in a big pile of empties.
It took me a moment to find my voice again.
“What the hell is going on? Why are you over here? Why are you working on a motorcycle and listening to that atrocious music? Why are you smoking?”
I realized I was starting to sound hysterical. Daisy huddled behind me.
Milo just shrugged. “I’m helping Tank with his bike. You know, being neighborly. Sorry about the music, I meant to turn it off before you got home, but I lost track of time.”
“Where is the Neanderthal, anyway?”
Much as I hated violence, I wanted to punch the fat slob.
“He’s on a beer run. He’s also getting a large meat lovers from Pizza Hut.”
That was it. He had gone mad. “You don’t eat pizza unless its vegan and gluten free.”
My words caused him to stop. It was like I had slapped him in the face. He picked his cigar and looked at it like it was some venomous snake. He dropped it and crushed it.
“I don’t know what happened, Avril,” He blurted. “I came over here to thank Angus for keeping the music off and next thing I know I’m smoking, drinking and working on his motorcycle with him. It was like I was possessed or something. I’ll take a shower and then make us some dinner.”
Possessed, indeed. I gritted my teeth not to shout at him. “Don’t bother,” I said, cold seeping in my voice. “Daisy and I are going out.”
I grabbed my friend by the hand and soon we were driving away. Milo looked at us, struck speechless.
#
We got completely smashed. Both Daisy and I were too frustrated, angry and sad for dinner. We skipped that and went to a place where two unaccompanied women could sit and not be bothered, and where we knew we could take advantage of the happy hour.
We sat out of the way, ordered a pair of absinthe cocktails, and simply told the waitress to keep then coming.
Relaxing ambient sounds in the background, we talked about men, work, unfulfilled expectations. Well, I did much of the talking, while Daisy just got maudlin and sipped her drinks. She finally opened up, telling me how she felt her life was in a rut and she was going nowhere.
“I always thought that you and Milo…” she said, with a sigh.
“What?” I asked.
She shook her head. “You look so nice together…”
“Yeah, and now he’s doing his macho thing with our neighbor.” I still found it hard to believe it.
“He is a biker,” she whispered. “Your neighbor, I mean.”
“Yeah. A fat slob of an ex-con. He’s always working on that bike of his, his stereo making a racket.” I chuckled, despite my rage. “He has a penchant for really low-waisted jeans.”
Daisy blushed to the root of her hair. “I often thought bikers…”
She sighed.
“What?” I asked again. I downed another cocktail. I couldn’t remember what number it was.
“You know… kinda cute…”
“Forget it!” I laughed. “The man’s a hog, Daisy. Fat, scarred, greasy and stinking.”
She sighed again, and picked up a fresh glass.
Later, while I helped Daisy as she was throwing up in the gutter, I said to myself I had been to harsh on Milo. After all, he was being diplomatic, and trying to build a bridge between us and our neighbor. He was working to ease the conflict, and I was doing exactly the opposite. I was ashamed of my temper.
I drove Daisy home and watched her stagger to her door. I drove really slow, because I had green fairies dancing around my brain.
As I tiptoed to our front door, I rummaged in the bag for my kees and then I let myself in softly. The door closed with a click that sounded like a crack of thunder.
Then things got messy.
I think I was trying to get out of my blouse and skirt at the same time as I stumbled, rolled and fell on the floor.
The thing was so utterly ridiculous, that I was still giggling when Milo came to help me up.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t want to wake you,” I said. My tongue felt two-inches thick.
“It’s okay, Avril. Do you need to pee before you get in bed?”
Gosh, he was so sweet. “You’re so sweet, Milo. I’m sorry I got mad earlier. You can be friends with Angus if you want.” I tried to focus. “Why are there two of you?”
He just laughed and helped me get in bed. He was so good to me.
I woke up with the worst hangover in ages. Milo was dressing. I fumbled for the glass of water on my nightstand.
“Gosh, I want to die,” I croaked.
I crawled back under the covers and passed out, falling into a deep black pit of nothingness. I woke up again about two hours later. I felt like a mess. I staggered around the house for a few minutes, looking for Milo. I fixed myself a stiff orange juice. It tasted horrible.
I walked out on the lawn and looked around. There were voices coming from our neighborhood caveman’s backlot. I sighed. Was Milo over there again?
I coughed a pair of times to clear my voice and then I called. “Milo, where are you?”
His voce came from the backlot, as I suspected. It sounded raw and distant. “I’m over at Tank’s. I’ll be home in a minute.”
I crossed my arms. It was high time I gave my partner a piece of my mind. But as he came over, my chin dropped on the floor.
“What is happening to you, Milo?” I managed to say.
He shrugged and pulled his cigar from his mouth. “I was just working out with Tank while you slept off your bender.”
My head spun.
The man in front of me was about two inches taller than Milo. He was buff and wide-shouldered, and he wore a white tank top that showed the thick black hair growing on his ample, muscular chest. And yet, for all the changes, he still was Milo. My Milo.
“Come with me,” I said. I grabbed him by the hand and dragged inside, in front of the bathroom mirror.
“Look at yourself,”I said, my voice quavering.
There was a tattoo on his arm and his hair was unkept and fell on his shoulders. It had grown darker, and thicker.
He shrugged, puffing away on his damned cigar, stinking up thehouse. “I look good.”
I screamed inside, but tried to keep cool on the outside. “This isn’t you Milo. Can’t you see how you’ve changed? Look at your body. You’ve got huge muscles now and a tattoo for goodness sake.”
That seemed to affect him somehow. His expression changed from macho boldness to uncertainty, to fear.
“Our neighbor is doing something to me,” he said, softly.
I stepped back as fear was replaced by anger, and his features contorted in fury. He stormed out of the bathroom.
“Where are you going?”
“To get some fucking answers,” he roared.
He stopped by the hall closet to grab the baseball bat we keep here since we saw that old home invasion movie.
“Don’t get violent, Milo. Let’s call the police. Let them handle it.”
“No! No fucking cops. A man should fight his own battles.”
He slammed the door behind himself and I stood there in the hall, alone. Should I call the police? My head hurt. This was like some sort of nightmare. I leaned my back against the wall.
I could hear shouting from the neighbor’s house. Then the voice subsided, and after a few minutes I heard a motorbike roar.
I went outside, but there was nobody in sight.
Shaking, I went back in, wandering through the house like I was a ghost.
I tried calling Milo on his cell phone. I tried texting him. Nothing. I felt anxiety mounting, and I did not know what to do. The whole thing was crazy. I called again, and again I got no reply.
Then, finally, a motorbike rolled in our driveway and soon the door opened. The buff guy that now was Milo was standing there, carrying a saddlebag on his shoulder.
Relief mixed with anger as “Where have you been?” I blurted. “I’ve been calling and texting you for the last half hour.”
He was back in his cool, controlled mode. “I got Tank to tell me what has been happening to me and I’ve got the fix right here.” He showed me the studded leather saddle bag.
“Well, what are you waiting for? Use it.”
He shook his head. “Later. I want to spend the weekend like this.”
He was crazy. Everything was crazy. “Why?”
“I’ve got the chance to be somebody else for a little while. I get to walk around in a different body. Look at these muscles.” He pumped his arm, showing me a bulging, sweat-glistening biceps. I wet my lips. It did look impressive.
“Plus,” he grinned, “there’s something you haven’t seen yet.”
And he undid his pants and just let them drop.
I stared at his manhood. It was a good span long, and as thick as my wrist. I felt warm between my legs.
“And just what do you think you’re going to do with that?” I heard myself ask, trying not to brush my thighs together.
As an answer, he ripped his shirt off and walked up to me. I held my breath. He grabbed my hand, roughly, and placed it on his hairy chest. I felt his rock-hard muscles tense, and his heart pumping blood in his veins. I ran my fingers through his hair, warm and wiry under my palm. He pulled my chin up and without breaking eye contact, he took my other hand and drove it down. I felt him stiffening between my fingers. Bigger. Longer.
Gosh, I wanted him.
“Tell me you don’t want to experience this body for yourself,” he said, as if reading my mind. “Tell me that you don’t want the chance to have sex with me while I look like this.”
His voice rumbled through his chest under my fingers. I was slowly stroking his manhood as he leaned down and kissed me. His tongue pushed between my lips, roughly entering my mouth, exploring it boldly. It tasted of smoke and beer. I let myself go, increasing my speed as I massaged him, desperately sucking on his tongue.
He picked me up and carried me to the bedroom. He helped me get out of my shirt while I dropped my skirt. Then he stood in front of me, his cock stiff as a ramrod and glistening. I stared at it, hypnotized.
“I don’t know if that thing is going to fit inside me,” I said. This, a voice kept repeating inside me, was simply crazy. But I wanted him inside me. Now.
He pushed me back gently. “It’ll fit,” he said softly. “I’ll go slow so I don’t hurt you.”
I yelped as he first entered me, his head spreading painfully the lips of my vagina. He paused. With a sigh, biting my lip I nodded for him to go on. He gave me another bit of his length. I rocked my hips. The pain was delicious. I nodded, but instead of pushing on, he pulled back. I moaned, suddenly missing his bulk inside me. I grabbed the covers in my fists as he slid in again, again driving me wild with pain and crazy with pleasure. He paused again, and again slid out of me, leaving me hungry and desperate. And he went on like this, slowly dilating my pussy, slowly feeding my hunger, teasing me with promise and torturing me with expectation. Finally he was all inside of me, and a long deep moan escaped me and he started pounding me rhythmically, hard and deep. I arched my back as my orgasm exploded, rattling my body. He did not stop. I moaned and gritted my teeth and came a second time.
And still he wouldn’t come. He hummed and grabbed me by the hips. He rolled me on the bed and before I could say a word or catch my breath he was into me again, working relentlessly, taking me from behind, like an big hungry animal. It was wonderful. I went completely wild and came again. And then again. And again.
I breathed in deep and played with the black curls on his chest. I was slowly coming down from my last orgasm, and I felt lightheaded and slighty tipsy. I gently kissed his tattoo.
“You’ll need to change back on Sunday night,” I said. But that was ok, we still had a lot of time for sex.
“I’d rather do it on Monday,” he said.
“We’re going out to my parents for Memorial Day. My brother and sister will be there, too. Don’t tell me you forgot.” I sat up, stradling him.
“I didn’t forget,” he said.
I smiled. “Liar.” I poked him in the ribs, my fingers meeting taut muscle, and I stretched myself over him, his hairy chest cushioning my breasts.
“Want to go for a ride on my new motorcycle later?”
I laughed. What a silly idea. “Not hardly. You couldn’t pay me to get on one of those death traps.”
He ran a hand down my back. “Come on, it’ll be great.”
“Look,” I said, “this has been fun and I’ll miss the anaconda between your legs, but you need to go back to being the Milo I love.”
But first let’s spend the weekend at home, fucking our brains out, I thought. But I didn’t say.
“I’m grabbing a smoke.”
He picked up his saddlebags. He flicked a lighter open and started passing the tip of the cigar over the flame.
“Don’t light that thing up in here. You’re going to stink up the room.”
I was quite willing to accept his physical changes, but cigars were out. He ignored me, taking along drag from his cigar.
“A little smoke won’t kill anyone,” he said, finally. “I’ve heard that an after sex smoke is supposed to be pretty good.” He took another puff, clearly enjoying it. “And it is. You should try it.”
That was preposterous. “I’m not smoking a cigar.”
He took a white and red packet of cigarettes from his saddlebags and unwrapped it. “Not my cigar. One of these.” He pulled away the foil and extracted a single cigarette.
He was crazy. “I’m not smoking that,” I snapped.
The sex had been wonderful. Why was he spoiling it all with this stupid smoking thing?
He lit up the cigarette. “Just try a couple puffs.”
“No!”
He grabbed me by the head, took a big mouthful of smoke and forced it down my throat in a long, rough kiss.
I wrestled free, coughing the smoke out. “What the hell, Milo?”
I slapped him across the face. I got out of bed, scared at his aggression, even more scared at my violent reaction. Violence was never the response. But gosh was I furious.
“Get back here, woman,” he growled.
“Fuck off.”
He jumped out of bed, grabbed me and roughly tossed me back on the mattress. I was winded. He crawled on the bed and sat astride me. I tried to get free, screaming at him. I was afraid he would rape me, but a part of me was excited at the idea. I knew from my self-defense classes that I could claw his eyes out, but I was still numb after the slap I had given him before. That was not me, I was not a violent person. And being raped, here, by this huge strapping monster…
Finally I stopped struggling, exhausted, panting.
“Finished?” he asked.
I just glared at him. What was he waiting for?
“I want you to take a couple drags off a cigarette,” he said. “Is that too much to fucking ask? It’s not like you’ve never smoked before. You’ve smoked plenty of weed. Is one god damn cigarette going to kill you?”
Still breathing heavily, I stared at him, at the cigarette. “Why do you want me to smoke so badly?”
He shrugged. “I think it’ll be sexy as hell. Yesterday I wouldn’t have thought so, but today the idea of you smoking a cigarette after we’ve fucked is fucking hot.”
He was right, it was hot. But why try and make me smoke by force? “You could have said that before you tried to force it down my throat,” I said. The idea of some fun and games after sex was not that bad. I felt adventurous.
“Yeah, you’re right,” he admitted. “The new me tends to act first and think later.”
“All the more reason to go back to the old you,” I said.
But why not go along with his fantasy? I gestured for him to give me the cigarette. “Okay, I’ll try it. But if you ever force yourself on me again I’ll find someone who doesn’t abhor violence to cut off the python between your legs and bury it the compost pile out back.”
Where had that come from?
He handed me the cigarette and sat there watching, puffing on his cigar. I took a short puff, blowing out the acrid smoke with a cough. It was nothing like smoking weed. I glared at Milo, daring him to speak.
Without a word, he went to the bathroom. I took two fast puffs while he was away, to ease what was coming.
He was back with a cup and I used it as an ashtray.
“All right,” I announced, “here I go. I hope you appreciate this.”
I took a long, deep pull on the cigarette, filling my mouth and then breathing it in. I felt the warm smoke fill my lungs and I fought to keep it in as long as possible. My head spun and my eyes got watery. I blew the smoke out, and I managed not to cough. Milo leaned over and kissed me softly. “You’re too good to me.”
His thumb ran along my cheek, wiping away a tear. We kissed again. The smoke on his tongue did not taste that bad anymore. “I think I can do better than that,” I said.
I took another deep drag, and again I filled up my lungs. A nice sense of relaxation was coming over me, and yet I felt perfectly aware of my body, present and aware. I exhaled straight in his face.
“Damn, you look sexy as hell doing that,” he rumbled.
He was right. I felt sexy. “Well, don’t get used to it because this is a onetime only thing.”
But I might as well do it good, I thought, and have some fun. I took another drag. He laid back, smoking his cigar, and I cuddled up to him, breathing out my smoke over his chest. He was getting stiff again.
I gave Milo a look and took another long drag from the cigarette. I was starting to like the taste, and suddenly there was something wild I wanted to try. I shifted position, and I exhaled a cloud of smoke directly at Milo’s cock. The effect was simply spectacular.
“You really do like it when I smoke, don’t you?” I grinned as I admired his monumental erection.
“You’ve no idea how much.”
I sat up and took another deep drag. Then I leaned over his crotch and slowly breathed my smoke over his cock. The head rush hit me with a pleasant buzz. The room danced around me and I grabbed Milo for balance. My fingers closed on his cock. It was like holding on to an iron bar. I felt his heart pumping through the shaft.
“I’m getting a little dizzy.”
He offered me the cup. “You should stop smoking then.”
But my cigarette was almost over, and I was enjoying it. I sucked on it to squeeze out the last of the smoke, and then let the butt fall into the cup.
The smoke singing in my head, I leaned over and I took Milo’s enormous cock head between my lips, savoring the salty taste and the hardness. As I pushed his tool in, I breathed out the smoke in my lungs. It was slow going, but I went on, taking him in bit by bit, steaming like a piston.
Milo grabbed me by the waist, his hands rough and calloused, and forced me to change position, lifting me up. I straddled him. His unshaven chin brushed my thighs as he positioned himself between my legs, and soon he was blowing warm smoke on my unprotected fanny. I increased my rhythm, his hot cock throbbing between my lips. His long, rough tongue followed his smoke, tickling my labia and then hitting my clit, sending a lightning bolt of pleasure up my spine. I kept pumping his cock, the thrill of it all blanking my mind. I came twice before he filled my mouth with his delicious cum.
“You are much better with your tongue than you used to be,” I told him later. To think I had once been horrified by such things.
He sighed. “That was the best blow job you’ve ever given me.”
I chuckled, still riding the nicotine buzz. “I don’t know what got into me. I normally don’t like giving oral sex that much, but I couldn’t get enough of your cock.”
He caressed me, his rough hand brushing my wet pussy. “Any chance you’ve changed your mind about going for a ride with me on my chopper?”
I imagined myself sitting behind him on his bike, pressed against his muscular back, legs spread wide. “Maybe,” I said with a smile. “If you’re a good boy tonight and do what I say, I might go riding with you.” I kissed him and ran slowly my hand over his cock. He was getting hard again. “Right now there’s something else I want to ride.”
He laughed as he picked me up bodily and carried me in the shower.
Hot water pouring on us, he slammed me against the ice-cold tiles and rammed his wonderful cock in my pussy again. I circled his waist with my legs, crossed my ankles and started pushing him in, head thrown back, hot water pouring in my open mouth as I screamed and came. Then it was just long, furious, delicious fucking until the water turned cold.
Walking was hard, but the memories were delicious. I kissed Milo and headed out to do some shopping. I felt like I needed to make up to him for the way I had treated him, and for the wonderful sex. Also, I knew if I stayed there, we’d be fucking our brains out again very soon.
I drove to Cruise/In, a bicycle and motorbike boutique where some of my colleagues and my sister-in-law Amethyst did their shopping. I passed the bicycle section and headed for the motorbike area. I browsed the shelves and finally asked for some advice. I bought two faux-leather jackets and pants combos. The clerk explained they were made from recycled plastic water bottles, even if they looked like leather. Then I went to the safety gear section, and bought myself a big motorcycle helmet, in gray. For Milo, considering hios current fad with the biker lifestyle, I opted for a half-helmet the clerk granted was safe just as a closed one.
I paid with my credit card, and kept the receipt in case I needed to return the stuff after Milo took his antidote, and drove back home. The NPR droning bored me, so I turned the radio off. Along the way, I stopped at the Thai Palace for a fine vegan menu.
I found Milo and his Neanderthal friend smoking and drinking beer in front of the neighbor’s garage. Our neighbor was a huge beefy sort, with long dirty hair and a bushy beard, a scar running down his cheek. A huge bear of a man, but standing beside him Milo seemed to have bulked up some more. He was an inch taller than the biker. He also moved in a different way, more self-assuredly, as he came over and kissed me. His mouth tasted of stale smoke and beer.
“Good thing you’re changing back tomorrow, Milo,” I said when he let me go. “I don’t know I could ever get used to you smelling like beer and cigars. Help me unload the car.”
“Call me Snake,” he said. His voice was lower, sexier. I just rolled my eyes. Nicknames, now. Like they were kids in some kind of gang.
“Just until I change back,” he added.
I sighed heavily. Let him play, I thought. “We’ll see.”
He lifted the store bags. “What’s this?”
“That’s a surprise, so no peeking. I’ll show you after dinner. I got take out from Thai Palace and I’m starved.”
We dined on green papaya salad and steer fried greens with Thai sauce. I could see that Milo - or Snake as he wanted to be called - was struggling with his food. And really, I too found it strangely flavorless. There was probably a new cook at the Thai Palace.
Dinner over, as he waited smoking his smelly cigar, I went back to our room and took my helmet out of its box. I put it on and walked back into the kitchen. Milo stared at me, and I gave him a smile as I opened up the face plate. “I decided that I want to go riding with you tomorrow. The sales clerk at the motorcycle store said that this was their safest helmet. I can return it for a full refund if I don’t scratch it.”
He smiled wolfishly. “God, you’re good to me.”
Happy I had made an impression, I took his half helmet out. “I bought you some clothes for tomorrow. I wasn’t sure of your size so I bought a variety. I can return it all after you change back. I also got you a helmet. The sales clerk called this a beanie and said it’s not as safe mine. Something told me that you wouldn’t want a full face helmet, and I wanted you to wear something that would protect that wonderful brain of yours.”
But it was not his brains I was thinking about. I gave him a hopeful smile. “Did I do good or what?”
“You did fucking amazing.”
Milo picked me up and carried me giggling in the bedroom, where he proceeded to rip off my clothes and fuck me like a wild animal. My cunny no longer had trouble packing him in, and I moaned and screamed as he heaved into me, a low hum throbbing through his wonderfully buff chest.
I came, again and again.
Then Snake laid by my side, smoking his cigar. He offered me a cigarette. I was tempted. It would have been nice, sharing an after-sex smoke, but I thought I should not give in so easily. Let him beg for it. Let him force it on me again, grabbing me with his big hands and breathing the hot smoke down my throat as he fucked me. But he did not insist, and laid there staring at the ceiling instead. Nursing my disappointment, I drifted off to sleep, exhausted.
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