Heat of the FireBy Morgan Grayson
They always tell you to check the batteries in your smoke detector, and they also tell you what will happen if you don't.
Well...I didn't...and it did.
Luckily, I didn't become a charcoal briquet, and neither did any of my neighbors. The fire department arrived rapidly, and just as rapidly turned my apartment into a sludgy mess of wet, smoky...things.
And I was temporarily homeless. I stood on the sidewalk with a woman that lived down the hall from me, staring up at my shattered bedroom window and heaved a sigh. She murmured something comforting, and I looked at her for the first time.
If there was ever a woman that could take your mind off a blazing inferno that ate all your stuff, it was this one. How the hell I'd missed knowing that she lived down the hall from me boggled my mind. She explained it, though. She'd just moved in.
"Welcome to the building," I said sheepishly.
She gave me a genuine, perfect smile.
"Flowers would have been sufficient. You didn't have to throw such a large party."
I got hard. I mean, let's face it. She'd heard me talking to the firemen, she knew it was my fault there was no smoke detector to wake me up in time to prevent the damage - hell, I actually owned a fire extinguisher that I could have used to put the fucking thing out if I'd caught it sooner - and she still had a smile for me. That shot her right to the top of my "World's Most Fuckable Women" list. In fact, she was the list.
I don't know whether she knew that or not. I just know that she invited me back to her place to use the phone to call my insurance guy, and have some coffee and a good stiff drink. And as I have mentioned, that wasn't the only thing that was stiff.
She listened to me babble at the insurance guy on the phone, then slid me over a mug of coffee liberally laced with bourbon.
"Good for what ails you," she said with that perfect smile, then sat down, discretely closing the bathrobe - but not before I became fully aware there was nothing underneath.
I managed to get the coffee mug to my mouth without spilling it, which was very difficult because I was squirming in an attempt to give my aching cock some room in my jeans. Not a lot of room there. Nice precum stain, though. Just the sort of thing I needed to complete my image. "Hello, I'm stupid, careless, and about to cum in my pants. Nice to meet you."
Her name was Callie, and she told me that it was short for Calypso, which pretty much gave a person the idea of how eccentric her parents were. They were free spirits, and had raised her to be one.
At first I thought it was my imagination that she was coming on to me so hard. I mean, I had to look like an asshole. Then a thought struck me, or better put, the reverse of a thought. How many guys had made it with how many women by pulling the White Knight rescuer routine? Couldn't count 'em. It was just possible that perfect smile Callie had gotten her hands on the Guy's Handbook for Getting With Women and done the obvious.
I arranged my sad and pathetic face. I sighed deeply, leaned forward to rest my elbows on my knees - and don't think that didn't cause my hard cock to complain - and shook my head.
"It's all my stupid fault," I said in my best pathetic voice. (I hadn't known I even had a pathetic voice until that moment.) I closed my eyes and sighed again.
She was on the couch beside me suddenly, one hand holding the bathrobe mostly closed, the other hand rubbing my back.
"You mustn't blame yourself," she said in a rich, soothing voice. "These things happen. It will be all right."
Damn. She had the handbook down cold.
"All I can think of is what could have happened, how bad it could have been," and damned if my voice didn't crack.
She came closer, one hand still rubbing my back, the other taking my chin and moving it so that she could look deeply into my eyes.
"It's not your fault, and nothing all that bad really happened. No one was hurt."
Her voice was more intoxicating than the bourbon that she must have tasted on my tongue because suddenly it was in her mouth. She sucked at it greedily, taking her hands off me long enough to wriggle out of her robe.
Damn, what a body. Her tits were fucking real, and fucking huge. Tiny waist, round hips, firm ass. Long legs.
I got a brief glance of her hairless pussy as she climbed into my lap, then reattached her mouth to mine, her hands fumbling at my t-shirt to pull it over my head. She had to release the suction grip on my tongue to get the shirt off, but as soon as she flung the shirt back over her shoulder, that mouth was back on mine.
She ground against my bulge groaning.
"I'll make you feel better. I'll make it all better."
Yes, indeed. Oh, fuck yes indeed.
I've never seen a woman kick a coffee table across the room before, but the damned thing was in the way and Callie just gave it a shove with her foot. Immediately thereafter, I was wrapping my arms around my head to protect myself as she dragged me to the floor. I bounced a little and it knocked a little wind out of me, but I didn't give a fuck. I'd never been attacked before, and I was discovering that I liked it. I liked it a lot.
I have no idea how she got my jeans off, but I nearly lost my cock and balls in the process. The woman was insane and would not be denied by a simple thing like the laws of physics. At least, I think it would be the laws of physics that would cover tight jeans, bulging cock, and a zipper that needed to traverse said bulging cock to go down.
I lay there on the floor just staring at her as she crouched over me and slid my cock into her extremely tight, hot, wet pussy. She lowered herself, her eyes closed in ecstasy, and began to fuck me.
Her hips ground down on me, then moved around, then up and down, and she reached back and grabbed my balls. Her hand was tight and I gasped. The sound made her open her eyes and smile at me. She tightened her grip on my balls and fucked me harder.
I attempted to grab pieces out of the carpet. I think I did.
She reached down with her other hand and rubbed her slick, silky pussy. I wanted to touch something on her body, but I couldn't release my grip on the carpet. I think it was the only thing holding me to the planet.
She got herself off and her pussy clamped down on me. It was the tightest thing my cock had ever felt and I nearly shot my load. Her eyes flew open and she glared at me. She wasn't finished, and I had better not finish, either, those eyes told me.
I hung on, howling like an animal in a trap. Pretty good metaphor. I was being fucked like an animal, my ecstatic and nearly hysterical cock trapped in that incredible tight cunt.
She leaned forward suddenly and sucked my left nipple. Nobody had ever done that before, despite a few discrete hints I'd dropped over the course of my sexual history. She sucked it hard, then pinched the hell out of the other one.
I had my heels braced and we both went straight up into the air when I came. It was so hard, so intense, made even more so by the sucking glory of her second orgasm. I flooded her. I flooded me. I flooded the fucking carpet.
Just as I was beginning to get my vision back, I realized what I was looking at. A cum filled, slick, shaved pussy, right over my face. She lowered it and sat on my mouth, and her huge clit leaped between my lips. I sucked it, lapping at my own cum, rubbing my face in her cunt, reaching up to grip that fabulous ass. I spread her cheeks apart and got a slippery finger in her tight pink pucker.
She leaned forward and began to lap the cum off my cock. It was way too sensitive, but she didn't care and I didn't seem to care either. I had lost the ability to distinguish between pleasure and pain at that point. It was all just intense sensation.
I ate that bitch's pussy like I've never eaten pussy before. I sucked her off so many times I lost count. She was insatiable, and it only made her suck, jerk, fondle, caress and who the hell knows what else to my cock and balls. I held back for as long as I could, the shot so long and hard I blacked out for a second.
When I finally came to, that sweet savage pussy was inches from my face, and Callie was face first in my crotch. I gently smacked her ass.
"You OK?" I think I said.
She mumbled something that sounded like an affirmation. Then she mumbled again.
"What" I managed to say.
"I said," she took a deep breath, "what the fuck is your name?"
I thought for a minute, then told her I'd get back to her on that.
© Morgan Grayson 2005
All Rights Reserved
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