comm notifies me once, then another and halts. I've only got a loose pair of cotton pants on. I close the door behind me and race down the stairs. Intense sunlight pushes aggressively against my cornea. The street is empty and quiet. As soon as my bare feet hit the pavement tiles I see the van banking into the corner. In a second they are in front of me, both of them laden smiles. The windows are open. I put my elbow on a side panel and lean in.
“It's loaded, fuelled and ready to go”
“Alright”, I say and grab the keys from his overstretched hand.
“You can take it easy this time. You don't need to haul every load fast. Relax. Enjoy it.”
I grunt and nod. They look alright. Well past their sixties. They obviously know everything and have been everywhere. The most ancient trick of all time is still being actively played upon us. The elders know better. How else could it be? More experience. A minuscule amount of reprobation for the things they wouldn't ever do. An enormous amount of it spent on everyone of lower rank, caste and age and the things they would do. The elders simply knew better. How else could it be?
There is an old thin pair of trousers in my closet. This will be cool and flexible enough. Tight fitting clothes are only good for pool parties and incandescent dance floors. I put a black t-shirt on, not so fresh after last night's outing. Old, dirty dusty shoes. I load up a couple of albums I found lying around last night onto my comm. Soundtracks to a perpetual youth. The door closes behind me and in a second I'm down in the street again. My car is cool and dry. Maybe I'll do what the old man said, maybe ill take it easy, play out my time, slowly grind my day away. It feels strange not to, but today I'm not going to be driving like a maniac. The streets get busier as I approach city centre. It's still relatively early, and I would have left even earlier if those two grunts hadn't been late in their arrival. A bakery catches my eye, right before the junction out of city centre and into the industrial sector. My stop is brisk and I make sure to purchase something sensible in size and content. Unlike my driving today, appetite and eating patterns remain rigid and vastly demanding. By the time I park my car into the compound my treat is long gone. The truck is parked face-in into the garage. I get in, activate the visor and link my comm in. Seating and monitor settings are restored and in two minutes time, I'm well out of the compound.
Everything appears tiny, indifferent when viewed from a vantage point. My cruiser sits well above the ground. Within city limits, a steady pace and careful lane alignment is maintained. Once out on the highway, I take the second crawler lane and quickly speed up to the appropriate limit. Velocity isn't going to provide me with my kicks today. The route is too lazy and constrained to be of real entertaining value. Music should do it. Towering, grinding, thumping, explosively charging, anger and rage driven, bellowing music.
I know the road by heart. The scenery almost never changes. Sometimes I'm glad about it. When boredom sets in, I look for alternate routes back, or to. This actually happens quite often, but today I'm cold, mechanical and precise. My rolling fortress is prepped for invasion, I'm wired for action, the skies are clear and the sun vividly reflects on the shiny surface of flattened pebbles steamrollered by my machine bringing noise and movement towards the small seaside kiosk.
The gate is closed and another vehicle is parked in front of it. With all systems left running I jump out of the truck and walk towards the kiosk. Thick shade covers the small brown round tables and stained bamboo chairs which sit under a thatched terrace. The kiosk's service window is open and I'm heading towards it. She is standing behind the counter and as I stop a pair of green curious eyes shoot towards me.
“Andy about?”, I nod my head up in question.
“Not today, unfortunately”, she says and shakes the withering blonde of her ponytailed hair. “He's back in the store...”
“That's alright”, I cut in “I'm from the Centre, need to get through the gate”
“Alright, alright”, she immediately nods and yells as I turn around to head back to my truck.
“Helen! Move the car, open the gate!”
I don't get to see much of Helen. As soon as the truck is through and parked I see her shutting the gate in the distance. Average height, a tad chubby, skimpy white jeans, white low top, ponytail, cap, glasses. Blonde. Nothing extraordinary going on in any dimension and I cant really see the details of her face. By the time I'm finished connecting every tube and socket between the depot and the truck she is over at the tables tending some customers. A slight harbouring pang of anticipation fails to be addressed and impressed.
The machines are running, the transfer is happening. I don't really want to sit around doing nothing, waiting, so I take off my t-shirt and begin stacking bricks not yet mechanically partitioned into their uniform rubber cases. Each brick must weigh at least 1.5 kilos. I've got protective gloves on and look forward to the exercise. Fifteen minutes pass in rhythmic stacking salience. A small wall of stacked cases forms beside me, ready to be transported back into the truck. I straighten my back, wipe the sweat from my brow and suddenly see her, sitting cross-legged on a lounge chair in the middle of the deck, amongst the tables, visibly turned and tuned towards my theatre of toil.
She is clearly watching me.
I grab two cases, hold them steady in front of my chest and climb the steps up the plateau where the truck is parked. This route is executed again, verbatim, ten more times. Every time I'm back in the heap to pick up another set of cases I can feel her staring intensely, scanning my back, checking out my rear, lecherously scrutinising my every movement.
The last two cases are held firmly between my sweaty arms, pressed against tightened abdominal muscles. I'm thinking about death and suicide, I'm thinking of her white, ever so slightly tanned, evidently firm legs, I'm thinking of the green in her eye and her apron constricted breasts. I'm thinking that I'm a stubborn son of a bitch, I'm thinking of charities, I'm thinking of Andy not being about. The fuses are disconnected, the tubes removed, coiled up and stored. There is still some residue from the operation around the depot that needs to be cleaned. I turn towards the kiosk. She is no longer sitting in the chair. I walk up to the kiosk window again. I see her through the opening feverishly getting the maintenance machine ready.
“Give it to me, ill' do it”, I say and extend my hand forward.
“You sure?”, she says and looks at me straight in the eye and then briskly once, over the lips.
I take the machine from her hand, touching two of her fingers and nod. I can see light brown freckles over her nose and cheeks. A last quick glance confirms the existence of similar embellishments over the concealed crack of her breasts. A hazy daze envelops me The area around the depot is clean within two minutes and all utility tools are secured and ordained. The machine goes limp and silent. A scream tears out from within my head.
“I'm definitely, going down...”
Gently, she takes the machine from my hand. She is no longer constrained within her white apron. Like Helen, she is too wearing skimpy jeans but instead a loose thin blue blouse on top.
“Want something to drink?”
“Water”, I reply and think of fountains and dripping spires.
“How about some coffee?”, she says and leans forward, her body, twisting and turning, beckoning me in. She takes a step back into the kiosk and coyly waves setting a clear path for my advance.
I take a step forward, and I'm found standing halfway through the doorway. I can see the fridge, the counter on the other side, two folding chairs, some shelves and a door leading back into the kitchen.
I notice that the service window is now closed and dimmed.
“Closing?”
“Lunch break”, she says and winks at me as she closes a fridge door.
“Puta!”
I can hear something akin to a gunshot echoing in the distance. Then drums, banging about a somewhat tribal pattern. The door is closed behind me. Somebody has already locked it. She is standing across me, slightly leaning back over the counter, her arms grappling the wooden surface behind her back, her breasts evident, protruding, one leg playfully crossed in standing over the other.
She is smiling at me. Of course she is. Andy is missing, tucked away in some cosy corner of his neat, clean shop. This is an official, self-proclaimed lunch break. The door is securely locked. I still haven't put my t-shirt back on.
Without warning I take another step forward. I can discern a slight jolt from her part, a miniscule twitch emanating from her legs as if for a split second they were wide open and then closed again. I'm looking at her straight in the eye. Her lips are trembling, oh so slightly. I put my right hand forward and slowly cup her shoulder. She shudders and for one moment I can see the slightest trace of hesitation in her eyes. I tighten my grip on her shoulder and the eyes clear up. With my other hand forward I envelope the shoulder across and pull her face abruptly towards mine. First contact on, I throw my tongue hard inside her mouth and battle over for possession of hers as I firmly press down on her lips. Her back bends backward over the counter as I push on down. With one sharp jab from my hand her legs are open and I slide into the crack pushing her trembling body back up the counter. Her legs are now crossed behind my back. I insist on vigorously travelling my tongue in and out of her mouth, licking her lips, the tips of her teeth and the whole width of her tongue. Her hands are flailing towards my fly but fail to land on target as I jerk my pelvis suddenly backward thus eluding her grip. In retaliation I let my hands fall heavy on the widened neck of her blouse and violently pull it downward around her shoulders and under her breasts. With one quick flick of the wrist her bra is sent flying down onto the floor. Her breasts jiggle in front of me. Cup C's, white and slightly oblong, wide apart, sprinkled with freckles, small pinkish areola, stubby but tight nipple. I take the left one in my mouth careful to lick every inch of its soft moistened underside, I roll my tongue over as I reach the edge then expertly trailing the circumference around and atop towards the nipple I cheekily elude my given target and abruptly jump on the underside of the right breast. I have them both firmly cupped in my hands and I squeeze them as I bite and suck on the aroused, tensioned flesh, pull them vigorously apart and push them in as my mouth scampers for the side of the neck, creeping, crawling, salivating over behind her right ear. She moans softly as I gently bite the outer rim right down the earlobe. She is scratching at my back, her legs always tightening, securely fastening her body around my torso. I suck at her earlobe while pinching both her nipples, pulling them away apart, tucking at them, stretching them oh so sweetly. She grabs my hair and I push her back onto the counter, disengaging my body from the iron claw of her potent hips. She looks at me over deepened eyes and reddened cheeks. God damn you Andy, I hope you are enjoying the office right now you limp, fragile bastard. I grab her shoulder and turn her around. I want to see her cunt, I want to lick her arsehole. Her jeans resist my persistent tuck until she lets one button fly loose. With the jeans gone, her white panties are the only thing separating my eager tongue from her dripping wet holes. My left hand grabs the back of her neck and forces her flat over the counter. I can see her left breast squashed, protruding from under her side, I dive down and lick it for a few moments before forcing my right index finger down her still panty-clad arsehole. The fabric sinks in, her back arches and her bum rises up in the air. I've got a tight left grip on her neck, my index finger is slowly traversing in and out of her ass while my thumb takes little circular jabs over her still obscured cunt. Her moans are louder now and her body excitedly reacts to my every movement, calibrates towards my input, her head snaps in vigorous attempts to catch an eyeful of my stringent invasion on her hot wet crotch. I jerk her life right there, over the counter pushing my raging might through the fabric of her timed existence. I've had enough of surface act so I turn her around for a long wet sloppy kiss and then tear her panties into a long shred, lift her back onto the counter and spread her legs wide apart. Her cunt glints, I perceptually observe a lone silver droplet of lingering fluid slowly travelling over her perineum only to finally majestically roll and dissipate into the overstretched vertices of her arsehole, drawn wide apart by my grovelling hands. Immediately at sight I throw the whole width and weight of my tongue on her hole, sucking her perfume and drinking her taste, rolling the sheathed tip of my ventral muscled sword upon the darkened crevices and around the main darkened drop. I cuff her thighs and bite them until the skin turns red and she abruptly screams, then return back to her lower hole and fuck it with my tongue, several times, taking turns to spit liquid output back onto her still tightly shut pussy. Her hands are messing about with my hair, massaging my scalp, her head is resting backwards on the counter within the opened blossom of her loosened ponytail. I tear her legs wide apart, revealing her flowering cunt. Her eyes are open now, they are looking at my sweaty pulsating chest and torso, and then travel up to meet a lethal flash screaming at her from my aroused grey pupils. I decide to offer her a treat, a teaser and I release her legs, permit them to balance wide over thin air as I unbutton my pants with one hand, still looking at her like a butcher does at cattle just before their final run has begun. With my free hand I pull my pant flaps apart and unsheathe this glorious instrument of lust and torture. For a frozen moment it hangs loose, slightly vibrating through the air, perfectly aligned, in level with her lips her face, her gaze.
I can see my shaft reflecting upon her crystallised retina. She gasps and twitches her hands towards it. I wont be allowing her this grace. My left hand shoots out, grabbing her left thigh, leaning it over my left shoulder. With one swift movement I'm in her. The spire of my blisteringly erect cock pulls her pussy lips apart and I put my whole weight onto pushing further into her taunting nothingness. She opens her mouth and loudly moans as I establish my full length and girth all the way into her sweet hot cunt. My fingers climb up to her mouth and drop into it, slightly pulling her lower jaw apart, pinching at her twitching tongue. My other hand cups over her right breast and tightly pulls on it as my torso gains momentum, propelling my stiffened ball-bearing rocket into explosive piston-like palindromic action. Having her body fully locked and constrained over mine I thunder above the paleness of her torso, untangling her hair strand by strand, the head of my carnelian workhorse tightly rubbing against the flushed interior walls of her opening as I gyrate my hips augmenting pressure within and upon her idling clit. Her hand automatically shoots forward to coalesce her clitoris now showing clearly over her cured, thinned blonde bush. I pull her hand away, denying her of personal pleasure and stick it on her butt-cheek, securing it with mine as I pull her pelvis higher up, coming in from another more acute angle, swiftly pushing deeply, maintaining composed and sustained hard hitting, ball splitting horizontal velocity for the duration of my punishment. She screams and tears away at my hair, my eyes, tries to pull and dismantle my lips while my balls arrhythmically smack against her heaving, breathing open arsehole. I am consumed by gracious lust, and I'm driven by eminent rage. I can sense that she is ready to burst and plunge on a little harder more. She is now continuously engaged into a slow pertained wail which sounds like an atrophic siren premonishing on an imminent air raid. I pull back and smack her wobbling bottom hard a couple of times. She screams and gasps, sustained 'oohs' and swift 'aahhss'. I pull her up, her body follows me surrendering fully to my maniacal whim. I turn her over, push her back to bend forward and place her outstretched arms against the wall. Her ass is raised towards my eager cock. I grab her periphery with both hands and manoeuvrer her arsehole once more into my mouth , giving it one last kiss goodbye before violently sliding my cock into her cunt once again. This time I graciously admit her the privilege of pleasuring herself and she immediately takes on to massaging and flexing her counter-stanced pussy. I dig my nails into the flesh of her behind and pull her butt-cheeks apart, revealing her arsehole in all its glory. The sight is enough to enhance the sensation and this stimuli amplification hardens up my erection to optimal form. Her decommissioned ponytail is in my hands, restraining her body from moving away by force of my thrust. There is nothing left but the homestretch now. For a brutal minute and a half I lay all of my force on her rear end, pummelling her cunt with vicious cock-blows, pushing her head hard down the counter. Her breath is now asynchronous and erratic, she pants and screams in little hiccups and I fervently continue to pounce on her, shaking, rocking the counter, the kiosk and her sexual essence and might right off their foundations. Her levitating screams indicate that she must have at least achieved orgasm twice by now and I can feel the base of my spine throbbing, sending a pulse of electric current all the way through my epipubic bone, which culminates into the ante-chambers of my tight and shiny balls. My whole body has been consumed by the same energising sensation and my loins are passionately radiating heat. My hand crawls around the front of her neck, I pull back and quickly bring her forward around and down on her knees, with one swift move thrusting my reddened throbbing cock down her already surrendered and wide open mouth. I push until I can feel the walls of her throat then pull a little back and splurge my load all over inside her mouth and tongue. For an everlasting glorious minute she uses her lips as a suction cup, sucking in every last flavoursome particle, cleaning my cock with her whitened tongue, wiping it dry on her reddened cheeks. A large drop of sparkling effervescent semen falls on her left breast. I scoop it up with the head of my cock and offer it back to her; she eagerly accepts the offering and licks it all down, keeping the head tightly sealed between her lips, her eyes closed, gone, sank into the quickened mire of post-coital afterglow.
I throw my head back and let my hands fall idly to their sides. My eyes are closed and my mind is inactive. A single thought flashes through. Andy and his office, Andy behind his desk, Andy smiling ,watching clipped footage of a makeshift porn video, his wife starring as the main bitch.
She looks at me and smiles, blushing as she puts back her blouse and bra. I'm already dressed up. I say nothing, only open up the fridge and grab a bottle of cold water.
“I'll see you later”, I say without turning around and open the kiosk door.
The first person I see upon exiting the kiosk is Helen who is back from whichever duty she was entrusted with. She is still wearing her cap and shades so I cant really see her face. I can see that she is smiling though. I can also see that she has a rather longish, bulky and rather unattractive nose.
She visibly smiles and waves at me and I swear I can see her winking from behind her large green aviator shades. Without uttering another word I take the steps up to the plateau where my half-loaded truck eagerly awaits my .