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K's Keys

By: justtheone



1.

For about a week now she's had this new little thing going on with a guy from work. Nothing much yet. They've only had coffee together a couple times. Some good long talks, and a little bit of kissing at the end ... He's pretty strongly into her and he's been real up front about that. Not pushy, but there's no iffy wishy-washyness like you get from dudes so many times. He's had a big crush on her since they first met. Definitely wants in her pants, and she's feeling fairly inclined to let that happen sometime pretty soon, provided he doesn't mess things up before she's decided she's ready. And scoring isn't all he wants. This guy wants a real girlfriend, and he wants it to be her. She just has to how figure out how far she wants to let this progress. Still not sure. She's ended up the iffy wishy-washy one, this time around. 

In other circumstances, she'd give him a shot, like he wants. She'd be perfectly willing to take the boy for a test drive. Not just as a fling but as potential boyfriend material. Thing is, she's not exactly available for that. There are two issues, standing in the way. 

Issue One ... She already has boyfriend, sort of. She's been dating another guy the last couple months, a guy she met in her grad program. It's nothing very serious—that's why she doesn't feel too bad about starting to see this other guy a little bit too. K never really got much fired up in the older relationship. Pretty much just been going through the proverbial motions, hoping things would improve as they went along. Usually they do ... she's never been the kind of person to go crazy about a guy, right off the bat. Starting new relationships is almost always a very slow and awkward process for her. A lot of hesitation and second-guessing goes on. Her feelings either gradually stabilize, or fizzle out altogether. This last relationship has ended up as one of the fizzlers. Only on her end, though. The guy hasn't realized it yet. Poor clueless fucker. He seems perfectly happy with how things have been going. 

Then there's Issue Two, which is the fact that in another month and a half, she's leaving the country for most of the summer. She's kept putting off endings things with the current boyfriend because when it's time for her to leave, that's pretty much gonna take care of the whole sorry business anyway. Without her having to say anything hurtful. 

Only at the same time it will also squash anything substantial that's started to grow between her and this other guy from work. His name's Graham. 

Wonderful timing, huh?

The best, cleanest plan is just not to let anything substantial get going with the new guy. Not to say nothing can happen at all. She just better make sure it doesn't get out of hand, if anything does. Whatever goes on can't get too serious or too intense. 

K did not expect that to become a problem, when she agreed to have a coffee with him. She never got serious or intense feelings about anybody, not this quick. Not even if she was really physically attracted to someone. That was a completely separate kind of deal. 

2.

She was supposed to have met him at the theatre that evening. They were gonna see some foreign vampire movie together. She didn't know much about it—hadn't seen the trailer or anything. Graham was pretty excited about it. Told her it was supposed to be a big deal, far as that kind of shit went. A new take on the genre, whatever that meant. So whatever. She'd go see it with him.

Only it didn't work out. She had to stand him up. Didn't mean to. Just too much other stuff going on that day ... including a fight with her kind-of boyfriend. Who had decided to try to make things more officialized between them, all the sudden. Or actually—this was the really infuriating part—he seemed to have assumed they already were, and always had been. And then didn't take it very well when she objected to this opinion. He'd bought her a fancy locket, too. Hoping she'd wear it the whole time she was gone on her big trip, and stay committed to him. When she'd never considered herself properly committed to him like that in the first place. Or him to her. It wasn't supposed to have been that kind of thing they had going. Except somehow he hadn't noticed. 

So yeah. That was a real fun discussion. Ate up her whole day.

By the time she got away from there, the movie was two thirds over. She drove around in random circles until it was done. Listening to a lot of loud music and pretty much hating the universe. Finally Graham texted her that he was out of the building, on his way home, if she wanted to talk "at some point". She knew he was walking—had to, 'cause he didn't have a car. Lived like a half hour trudge from the theatre. She found him real easy, five minutes later. Picked him up to take him the rest of the way back to his place. Didn't intend to stay with him long. Wanted to be alone the rest of the night and just think. Well, more like fume. But she'd take the few minutes during the drive to apologize and explain what had happened. He deserved to know what was up with her. Didn't want him thinking she deliberately ditched him or just flaked out and forgot 'cause she didn't give a shit about him. 'Cause she did, was the thing. Kind of wished she didn't, but it was looking more and more like she really did.

Dammit.

Only then she couldn't say anything. Couldn't find the right words to get started. Just let him rattle on and on about the vampire movie, the parts he thought she would have dug and the parts he thought she wouldn't. And then they were pulling up outside his apartment. She hadn't said sorry or explained anything. Completely choked. While he kept acting like absolutely nothing was wrong. 

It was sort of nice, sort of ideal and sort of horrible. All at fucking once. 

She shut her car off and looked at him. He frowned at her thoughtfully for a moment, and then shrugged and just swooped on over real sudden and aggressive and smooched her. Fine then. She let him keep doing that. They kissed and kissed for several minutes. 

Not real hot and heavy, though. They didn't suck face. It was just light and easy and nice. Like nothing was wrong, nothing was riding on it, one way or another. Like they were just kissing because kissing was nice to do, and that was all. Like that was all it needed to be. If only that were true. 

Then finally he pulled back and said good night and thanks for the lift and got out of the car. 

It wasn't 'til after she'd watched him go inside and went to start her engine that she saw her keys were gone. He must have nabbed them from the steering column while they were kissing. The whole set. 

So she couldn't leave yet. She was gonna have to go up there to his apartment. Get them back. 

Well fuck. She knew it was only a lame spur-of-the-moment joke. He was messing with her to try to keep her mind off serious and shitty things a few more minutes longer. And possibly give her another chance to talk it all over, if that was what she decided she wanted. Still, that fucker. The effrontery! She was gonna have to kick his ass when she got in there. 

3.

"Why would I want to let you have them back?" Graham said, "What's in it for me? If I hand over the keys, you'll leave and go home. Then I'll be sitting here all by himself again. Like I was in the movie. Lonely and forlorn." 

"I'm sorry about that," she said, "I'll try to make it up to you." 

"Good." 

"Except maybe I won't. Maybe you don't deserve that anymore. Stealing my keys wasn't a very nice thing to do."

"Standing me up wasn't very nice either. Makes us even."

"Fine. If we're even, you can give them back now."

"I don't think so. Not gonna be that easy." 

"Well, what's it gonna take then?" 

"I'll trade you for them. Fair exchange." 

"Trade them for what?"

"That's the question, isn't it? Lemme see now. How many keys we got here? Looks like half a dozen or so." He counted them quickly. "Yep. Six keys." 

In addition to the car key, there was the other extra car key the dealer gave you that either opened the trunk without letting you start the engine, or started the engine without letting you open the trunk—she could never remember which, 'cause she never actually used the damn thing. Then of course there was her apartment key, and her mailbox key. And the key to her parents' house. That made five. So what was the fucking sixth key? Oh yeah—it was for the storage cage in the basement of her apartment building. Again, she never used that one. Didn't like storing stuff in basements. Shit always got moldy and ruined, when you did that. Happened to a whole bunch of her favorite books from when she was little. Never forgave her mom for that one. 

"I only really need the car key," she announced, "You can hang on to the rest, if you want." She had a spare key to her front door hidden next to it inside the porch light, and replacements for all the rest in a drawer in her kitchen. 

"But how can I tell which key is for your car? It's too dimly lit in here."

"So turn on that other lamp next to you."

"No, that'll hurt my eyes. It's much too bright. I never use that lamp."

"Got an answer for everything, don'tcha?" 

"I do my best. Let's keep your keys together. Package deal. Pain in the ass anyway, picking individual ones off the ring. So, six items. That's what you're gonna have to give me. Six for six." 

"Six what's? Six dollars? I don't have any cash on me."

"I'm not interested in cash. I want you to give me six items of clothing. Paired item like shoes count as one. And accessories don't count at all." 

"Why not? That's not fair." 

"Well, it'll let you win too easy. Girls always have plenty of accessories. Your headband, your earrings, your bracelets, your necklace. Heck, including your glasses, you'd just about end the game right there, without uncovering any more skin. Oh fuck, you've got a belt on too, haven't you? See what I mean? No good. But I'll tell you what—just 'cause I'm such a nice guy and I like you so much, I'll let all accessories count together as one. That make you feel better? Aren't I accommodating? Heck, a pushover is what I am. You don't even have to go to the trouble of taking them all off. Too many little bits and pieces to keep track of. We'll just wave 'em off and say you've earned one key already. Just like that. It's in the bank, so to speak. One down, five more to go. Cool?" 

"Hand it over then. Make it the biggest one." Which was the car key. 

"No, I told you before. That's not how this works. Come now, work with me. I made you a concession, but don't push your luck. You gotta earn the whole set before you get them back. We already established that. I'm not picking apart the ring. Anyhow, think of how annoying it would be to have to put them all back on it, after our game gets done." 

"Is that what we're doing? Playing a game?"

He shrugged. "We are if you decide to play along. Are you gonna play with me or not? Up to you."

That was the moment she could have put her foot down, if she wanted to. He gave her the option to say "fuck you" if she wasn't comfortable with going any further forward. She knew from the boyish, hopeful-but-questioning look on his face that if she told him to stop this bullshit, he would have stopped and tossed her the keys on the spot. 

She didn't, though. 

"Five items, huh?" she said. 

He nodded. "Five of your choice." 

She slipped off her soccer cleats, for starters. Obvious and easiest place to begin. Then her hoody, of course. Two items she would normally take off, anyhow, just to get comfortable in the room. Not that she'd ever spent any time with him in a private setting like this, before tonight. Except perhaps for the inside of her car, if that counted. Which it kind of did and kind of didn't. Anyway, she'd never taken her shoes or her jacket off, those four or five previous times she was hanging out with him. Not to say it would have been any kind of big deal—it wouldn't have been. It wouldn't have mattered at all. Just hadn't happened to have happened until right then. When it was given slightly extra significance as part of the silly game. 

"Not like that," he said, just after she shrugged her shoulders from the hoody and let it fall to the floor. 

"Not like what?" She was puzzled. Didn't have the faintest idea what he was objecting to. The matter-of-fact way she took off the jacket? Did he expect her to make a dance out of it? With no music? 

"Hand me the things," he said, reaching out, "Don't just drop them. You gotta give them over for each piece to count." 

"All right." She didn't see the point of it, but whatever ... A little later on, this would make her feel pretty stupid—not realizing the significance. Totally shouldn't have missed it, no excuses, but she did. 

She scooped up her hoody from the carpet and tossed it to his lap in a bundle. 

"Shoes too," he insisted, "Gimme." 

She just kicked them closer to him. He bent and picked them up, only to set them right back down on the floor again—except behind his chair instead of in front of it. Then put her hoody there next to them. Took a moment first to untangle it and then fold it nicely. Freak. 

Now what next? Now that the easy basic starter stuff was out of the picture ... What should she pick? 

4.

Obviously most girls in her position would have opted for their socks next. The safest choice—and still not outside the bounds of basic propriety. Nothing yet that was gonna raise anybody's eyebrows ... or any other body parts, for that matter. K, however, found herself a little hesitant to make this move. 

She knew Graham was a foot man. That made it a bigger deal than it would normally be. Stripping off her socks would be a pretty major thrill for him—and she wasn't entirely sure she wanted to give that to him ... Not just yet, anyhow. Not that easily. 

He'd complimented her on her feet a couple times before. Called them cute on the first occasion, and later referred to them as "perfectly shaped". When she challenged him about it—"Are you one of those weirdoes?"—he had flat-out and with no hesitation admitted to being, as he himself had called it, a "foot man, as well as a legs and ass man, as opposed to a boob man". Which, hey, was good to know and also made sense, since K had never got much at all going on in the torso department. Never thought her feet were anything special, either, and she never put any time into prettying them up, painting the nails or wearing toe rings or getting a tattoo on one of them, like more and more girls seemed to be doing nowadays. Still, Graham wasn't the first guy she dated that had taken a particular fancy to them, as a matter of historical fact. 

There's lots and lots of foot guys out there. It's a pretty widespread phenomenon, for whatever reason. It's weird—but not that weird. Both Graham and the other guys seemed to prefer the natural look she kept them, whereas most of these foot pervs are actually more into spikey shoes than the feet inside them. Whole other dealio going on there. 

One time so far, on one of their funny little semi-dates or pre-dates in the coffee shop, when no tables were available and so they shared the couch in there in front of the fireplace, she'd let him rub her feet for a little bit on his lap. Just for a few minutes. Not minding it in the beginning, when he started doing that. Then she had to make him stop—using a trip to the ladies' room as an excuse. 'Cause she'd been unprepared for how good that had felt, when he did that to her. It had really got to her. Really worked her up, and real damn fast. Hadn't expected that to happen. Wasn't prepared to let that happen again. So from then on she'd made a point not to let his hands near them. Also was careful not to wear shoes that exposed them to view, when she was with him. Stuck to her old crummy soccer cleats, mostly. She could tell he'd been mildly disappointed about that, just from his expression when he'd glance down that direction from time to time, though he didn't question her or call her out about it. Neither of them had brought up her feet again in the course of their conversations, after that brief incident—if that was how you decided to classify what had occurred. And the weather hadn't really been right for sandals anyway, the last couple weeks. Too chilly and mucky. Kind of fortunate for her. Let her keep her feet guarded and hidden from him without it seeming like she was doing it deliberately. Which she was.

And she wanted to keep doing that. 

He wouldn't expect her to make this move. He'd be ticked, probably. Serve him right. 

Three items to go. Well, shirt and pants, sure ... Then that left her in her underwear and socks. 

So either this would finish off with her barefoot in her bra and panties, or she could leave her feet covered and give up her bra instead. And she kind of liked that plan better. It was more thrilling for her, on a couple of different levels at once. Yeah, she would be showing her tits off, such as they were. Which would still be a big deal. It would feel really crazy and lewd and be real hard to find the courage to do without passing out or peeing herself ... Yet Graham would rather get to see her bare feet, given the choice—he'd get off on that more—and he wouldn't get to! Ha! In yer face, Graham! 

Not that her tits wouldn't do anything to him at all. "Don't get me wrong," he'd said before, when they had that talk about this stuff, "I don't consider myself a boob man but I still like boobs. They're not quite as crucially important to me as they are for the boob men, and I don't need to see super big ones to get properly turned on. Like I told you, certain other womanly body parts fire me up much more. But I won't pretend I'm totally indifferent to boob power, either. I'm not sure any straight guys are."

There was something else K could have tried at this stage ... If she'd thought of it, at the time. She could have taken off her bra without removing her shirt. And the shirttails hung low enough that it would have kept her crotch covered safe like a miniskirt, after she gave up her pants. So then she could have stripped off her panties too, without letting Graham see her pussy. She'd have won her keys back without letting him see any of the special girly goodies! Not even her cute perfect toes! Take that! 

She'd have totally outwitted him, fair and square! A glorious surprise triumph! 

Except she didn't. Somehow this groovy idea never occurred to her. Not when it would have counted. Didn't pop up in her mind until late the following afternoon, while she was microwaving a frozen pizza, staring at the digital timer counting down. Got pretty pissed at herself, when the moment of blazing revelation struck all the sudden, bubbling up unbidden from her subconscious ... But that happens in the future, after our story has concluded ... You won't read any more about that. 

K let him see her tits. Hell, she wanted him to see them and she showed them to him.

And she liked doing it. Felt damn good. Fuck yeah. 

5.

There was this long silence between them. Pretty tense. Not exactly awkward, though. Not the sort of thing where either one of them was fumbling or flailing for something to say. This wasn't a time for words, at least not right off. They shared that understanding, somehow, intuition or instinct; both just taking a moment—taking this moment—to keep their mouths shut and study each other. Of course he was getting a lot more on his end to study than she was. Still, didn't make her feel as shy as she normally would. 

Something in his face. Something in his eyes. Difficult to put a name to. Something powerful in it, whatever it was. Something that made her not just pleased to have played his silly game, but proud. Made her feel powerful. Supercharged. 

"Well now," she finally said, "That's five articles for you. Happy?"


K's Keys



"K," was his answer, "You are very beautiful. Wish I could draw you like this, or paint you, or make a sculpture. Or all three, one after the other. If I had the talent to do that stuff good. If you'd allow me."

Now K didn't react to this flattery as good as she might have. She had trouble taking compliments-always had. They put her too much on the spot. Always assumed she was being patronized, or made fun of. Set up for a scam. In her opinon, she wasn't so great looking. Nice legs, her best feature, but otherwise she was much too scrawny and bony. Her face had a witchy structure. Long and narrow, her chin and cheekbones jutted too much, and her nose was too big and slightly hooked. She had big, bright, fierce eyes, only they always had dark circles around them. Thought they made her look freaky. Lots of guys go for that starved-and-feverish waif look, that can't be denied. It either brings out their protective side, or more often than not, their dark and abusive side ... She knew she turned guys on. No argument there. Problem was she didn't like the way she did. Wished she was attractive in a different and healthier way. 

So she deflected his admiration. Went on the defensive. Couldn't help it. She smirked. "That all you want to do, huh? Make a picture or a statue out of me? Put me in a gallery?"

"Not all, my dear. Just for starters. One thing, or three related things, out of many." 

She couldn't come up with a followup to that. Nothing that sounded any good in her head. In the end what she went with was: "Do I get to have my keys back now?"

Immediately regretted the way that came out. 

He tossed them over to her. She caught them. 

"What now?" she asked, fiddling with them, "Do I get to go home?"

"If that's what you want," he answered, "Found out I have to be up pretty ridiculously early tomorrow. My other job offered me an extra shift at freaking five. Gonna regret not going to sleep a couple hours ago. Too late now. Damage is done. Tomorrow's a zombie day."

"When they call you?"

"This afternoon."

"Why'd you go to that movie then?" 

"To be with you. Duh." 

"I'm not apologizing again for that."

"Wasn't asking you to. I got to see you tonight in the end. That's all that matters. A few minutes is better than no minutes. I'm satisfied." 

"Are you? I'm glad to hear it. Shall I just put my clothes back on then? Now you've seen me." 

He gave her a funny look. "You think I'm gonna give them back?"

Okay, that threw her off. WTF. She just looked at him with her eyebrows up. 

"What?" he said, "Why are you surprised? The deal was the keys for the clothes. Even steven. You got your keys back—you can go home whenever you want. Done dealio." 

"Without my clothes? How is that supposed to work?"

"That's for you to figure out. You wanted your keys, you got your keys. Now I'm supposed to give you your things back? But you gave them to me for the keys. You want the clothes back, then give back the keys. Fair's fair. Or else we'll have to make another arrangement. A whole new different deal."

"A whole new different deal," she echoed. 

"Yeah." 

"Jesus Christ." 

"What do you think, K? What do you wanna do? You want your clothes—make me an offer."

"What kind of fucking offer?"

"I'm leaving it all up to you. This time you think of something. It's your turn." 

"Or, you know, maybe I could just say 'fuck you' and walk out the door. Won't take me more than a minute to get to my car. It's late enough I can drive home like this without much risk of anybody seeing me. Hell, if I wanted, I could probably jog home, and get there just fine. How you like that idea, huh?"

He shrugged. "If that's what you want—if that's what you prefer. The notion does have definite appeal. I'd be sorry to see you leave. But it tickles me, imagining your trip home like that." 

"Only take me ten or fifteen minutes to get home safe, tops." 

"Jogging?"

"No, I meant in my car. I wouldn't jog it—no reason to. I only said I could manage it without getting caught and humiliated if I had to or I wanted to. But why would I?"

"The sheer kinky thrill of the thing, my dear." 

"Ha. Not my thing, sorry. I'm not one of those crazy exhibitionist girls or a risk junkie. Nothing to prove."

"Too bad." 

"Even if I was, I wouldn't just abandon my car."

"It would be fine if you left it there one night." 

"You expect me to leave it parked here in front of your building? That's idiotic. I'd have to run all the way back here tomorrow morning first thing before work—or I couldn't even get to work. Work's way too far away." 

"Not really, I do all right without a vehicle. Your place isn't that much farther away from there than this place is. You could just walk straight there; you wouldn't have to get up very much earlier than normal. Not like I'm gonna be doing for my other stupid job. Then you can come back here after your shift at four or five or whatever and get your car back then. I'm just saying it's doable." 

"Well, I don't care! Plus there's all this nonsense I just went through getting my car keys back from you. Dumb as shit not to use them after that." 

"Fair enough, you got me. Use them, if you want. A nearly naked nighttime drive won't be as wild for you as a nearly naked nighttime jog would be—but I think you'll still find it a pretty memorable experience. The images I'm conjuring in my head are still nicely stimulating." 

"Pretty mental pictures to beat yourself off to, you mean, after I'm gone."

"Well, yes. I suppose that's exactly what will have to happen. You can picture that in your head, if you like, while you're driving along. I'll be picturing what you're doing and you'll be picturing me. We'll be having a sort of telepathic sex, if you want to think of it that way. Kind of a hot idea, don't you think?"

"No. It's just gross and weird and also damn silly." 

He didn't argue with her. Just shrugged and looked a little sad. 

She hadn't really meant to be as harsh as she just was. Hell. 

"Anyway," she went on, "I didn't say for sure I wanted to leave. Just that I could, if I chose to. You don't have me trapped helpless over a barrel or anything, just because I'm down to my panties and my socks. I can handle this. That was the point I was making." 

"Understood." 

"I'm just saying, you're not as clever and crafty and devious as you think you are, buster. You might think you've got control of this situation, but you don't. Only exactly as much or as little as I decide to allow you. Or not. That clear?"

"Crystal." 

6.

"So what is it you want from me?" she asked, "What do you expect me to do?" 

He shook his head. "Told you. You have to suggest something. Entice me. Or not, if you don't want to. Go if you wanna go. But if you don't wanna go, if you wanna stay ... then play."

"I'm—I don't know. I'm not sure. I'm just—I don't know." 

"Maybe you do, though. I think maybe you've already thought of something. You're just too chicken to throw it out at me. Go on. Don't hold back. Don't be chicken."

"Don't call me chicken."

"Buck-buck-buck." He made little wings with his elbows and flapped them. 

"Jesus. I'm standing in front of you with my tits out, aren't I?" 

"That's true. If you could do that, why can't you do this? Just tell me what you thought of."

"It's—it's kind of too obvious, though. It's not an original or inspired idea." 

"What is it? I promise not to laugh." 

"You won't. You'll ... I'm scared you'll think less of me." 

"How do you know?"

"Because you will."

"I doubt it. Try me. Just fucking spit it out, K. If it's no good, it's all right, you'll think of something else. I have faith in you." 

"You'll still think less of me, 'cause of this being my first idea." 

"Tell me. Please quit torturing me, my dear. And while you're at it, try to quit torturing yourself. It's just you and me here. It's all cool. You're safe. I promise."

"Fine. Fine. All right. God. Fine." It still took her another full minute or so to get her shit together before she could go on. Couldn't breathe properly. Felt like she needed to sneeze but couldn't, like it was stuck. She kept sniffing and snuffling and swallowing, over and over. The sticky bubbling itch inside her nose and the back of her throat wouldn't ease off or clear away. God, she was acting so annoying now, all the sudden. So annoying that she was annoying herself!

"Well? Come on!" 

"I was just ... just gonna offer you a handjob. That was all I could think of, pretty much."

He kept his word and didn't laugh at her, but she could still that was only 'cause he didn't let himself, and she could also tell it was tough for him to hold it in. Had to put a hand over his mouth and stomp his feet. "Gosh," he said, at last, "Wow. I mean, whoa. You just plunge right to the nitty-gritty. No messing around. Bam! That's cool, though."

"Told you it wasn't anything creative. You wanted something weirder, didn't you? Now you think less of me. I was right. I can tell from your face."

"What do you mean? Why would I think less of you?"

"'Cause I'm not very imaginative with this kind of stuff. You probably think I'm trashy, too. Since that was the first thing my brain popped up. You think I'm the kind of trashy dumb girl that gives handjobs all the time and doesn't give a shit about it or pretends she doesn't. Like it's no big deal 'cause she does it so much."

"Um ... That's a bit of a leap, K."

"I'm not like that. I know some stupid girls like that but I'm not one of them." 

"I know. Hey. Your ... idea ... It wasn't what I was expecting. Still-"

"What were you expecting?"

"Oh heck, I figured you'd just offer to take off the rest of your things. Let me see the last special bits you're still keeping shielded." 

"Just that? Would that have worked?" 

"Oh yeah. I mean, I wouldn't have let you have the rest of your stuff right away. You'd have to twirl around for me and stuff for a minute or two, to let me savor the full view. Maybe dance a little bit, or just run through some sexy yoga stretches, if you know any sexy yoga." 

"I don't. I don't dance, either. Not like that." 

He shrugged. "Wouldn't have to get fancy about it. Hell, I'd be happy watching you do some toe-touches and jumping-jacks." 

"Then you'd give me my things back?" 

"Well, I would've. Not your panties or your socks, but you'd have bought back everything else with them. You'd be able to get decent again."

"Groovy." She bent over to start tugging off one of her socks ... 

He stopped her. "Wait! Hold on! That's not how we're gonna do it. That wasn't the offer you made."

"Shit," she said. 

He unzipped his jeans and popped his cock out at her. "You can still take your things off if you feel like it. I don't mind. But that's not gonna buy you anything. That's not the new deal."

"Shit," she said again. She stared at his cock and his cock stared at her. At least it was a decent looking cock, as cocks go. And a decent size, neither too big nor too dinky. Her kind-of-but-not-really boyfriend's was a little tiny bit thicker around but also stubbier. She was pretty fed up with that one, ready for something new. There had been times she had really hated the feel of that thing inside her. It didn't seem to fit into her right. Stretched her opening too wide and didn't reach in deep enough or upward enough to hit her best-feeling spots. That wasn't always the case, to be fair. There had been times it did really well. Probably over all she'd got just as much good sex from that guy and his stubby fatty as disappointing and frustrating sex. And that was how it usually tended to go, whenever she was having sex as a regular thing with a guy. Half good and half not, until the relationship died. Never could figure out what made the difference. The position was the obvious candidate—but that didn't seem to be the real issue. She'd never settled her routine on a favorite or reliable one. Never been able to. Every position she did it in—sometimes it worked good, sometimes it wouldn't, all across the board. Had to be some other factor.

Having let herself sink into this brief reverie, he misinterpreted the spaced-out expression that must have settled on her face. 

"Hey now, don't look at me like that. This was your idea! Way better than mine was." 

"Better for you," she said, "Shit. I can't believe this. Can't I just do the other thing?"

"Nope, not anymore. That wasn't the offer you made. Missed your chance, babe."

She pouted. "You're really gonna make me go this far? You're gonna make me kneel down and beat you off?"

He wavered. Nearly gave in. She would have been pissed if he had. Well, not pissed. But that would have taken a lot of the zing out of the air. And she would have lost some respect for him. No, respect wasn't quite the right word ... 

It would have recategorized him, in her mind. It would have proved he was pretty much a total pushover, at least as far as she was concerned. Most guys were, in her experience, if they fell for you ... He would always do whatever she told him, and he would let her get away with anything. She would make or break all the rules. She'd be the official pants-wearer, in their relationship ... if their relationship continued further. Not to say that would necessarily be a bad thing. She didn't mind that role. Most of her relationships had been like that, most of the time. She would call all the shots. Usually she quite liked calling all the shots. 

It did get tiresome, though, now and again. Sometimes you wanted a change. A different dynamic. Not that she wanted or needed to be bossed around. It just gave a little extra rush to the relationship-or it seemed like it might—if she wasn't essentially holding a leash, absolutely in control, all the damn time. And the guy wasn't completely one hundred percent predictable.

"Don't wuss out," Graham said, and waggled his cock at her, "Look how big and hard I am, because of you. Look how big and hard you make me." 

"I noticed," she said. Then she sighed, sniffled again and swallowed again, still feeling like she was about to sneeze, her eyes watering a little too, and then knelt down. 

"You can't reach me from all the way over there, babe."

She nodded and scooched closer. Right up against his legs. Sitting back on her heels, she took hold of him in her hand and squeezed him. Funny how basically easy it was to do, when she got down to business. Just reaching right over and grabbing the silly thing and tugging on it. Yet so scary and dangerous, at the same time. Like fiddling with a bomb. Seriously. 

"Oh God," he said, "Oh yes." 

She started jerking it. She didn't start slow. Figured it would be more fun to surprise him with a bold and aggressive pace. 

"K! K! K!"

7. 

Ten minutes later ... 

Well, all right. It probably wasn't as long as that. Probably only more like five. Just felt a lot longer. 

"Sheesh," she said, blowing some of her sweat-soaked bangs out of her eyes, "You getting close yet?" 

"Hahh. Hehh. Huhh. Don't rush me, babe. Don't rush me. Let me enjoy this. This is ... ohhhohh ... pretty freaking wonderful. Yes this is. Hoohh! Hmmm. Haahhuuhh."

"You're taking forever. I never had a guy take this long before. You're really making me work for this, aren't you? I'm actually sweating now! Just fucking come!" 

She couldn't crank him any harder than she already was. She would if she could, but she was already at the limit. It was making her furious. Hadn't expected it to take this much strain. 

"I'm gonna be a while yet, honey. A good long while. Sorry. Sorry. No I'm not. I'm sorry I'm not sorry but I'm not sorry. Uhhhoooohhuuhh. This feels too wonderful. Hooh wow! Haahh! Why would I want this to end? Never! You can just keep cranking it for me all night long. Oh yeah. Oh yeah. Just like that. Crank it 'til it falls right off! Crank it 'til it kills me! Gaahhuhhaahh!" 

"Thought you had to go to work in the morning. Didn't you say at five?"

"Screw that shit. I'll call in sick. They'll survive without me. Just keep going. Slow down if you want, yeah, go right ahead, I don't mind. That's good too. You can go as slow or as fast as you like, just so long as you keep going. Ohhuuhhaahh."

"I can't believe how much noise you make. You make so much noise! It's embarrassing. Guys usually keep it all in."

"Well, I don't. Feels better when you don't. I don't hold nothing back. Not me. Huuhhaahhh. God you are so awesome. You are the best girl ever. I mean it, K. I mean it. Ohhuuhh!" 

"You're gonna wake all your neighbors. They're gonna call the cops on us."

"Hell with my neighbors. Hell with the cops. Hell with the whole world except you and your lovely brutal hand. Haaahhh. Huuuhhnn. Hooohhuuh." 

It was getting to her, in fact. Watching him like this and hearing all this shit. She'd never had a guy react this powerfully to anything she did to him. Or if she had, the guy hadn't let himself express it on his face or out loud like this, like Graham was doing. Guys kept everything muffled and hidden, trying to stay tough or some shit. As much as you'd get out of them was some swearing at the very end, as their stupid cocks were shooting off. Maybe you'd get some grunts before that, once they got their rhythm going. They would always try to make them sound like tough guy grunts, of course. 

Graham had let himself go absolutely crazy ... and despite all her bitching, it was driving her pretty darn crazy too, under the surface. Now she finally understood why a few other guys she'd been with in the past had got grumpy and upset with her when she didn't make enough noises in bed. Because mostly she kept pretty quiet too, when she had sex. Those other guys didn't make any noises themselves—but they seemed to consider it her duty as a female to moan and scream her head off the whole time for them, or they felt insulted. She always thought making sounds like that was too embarrassing. But now she finally could see why those fellahs made a big deal out of it. The rush it gave you, and the power. Oh yeah. It was really something. 

K wasn't sitting back on her heels anymore, like when she started. That hadn't lasted long. He'd grabbed her shoulders a while ago to make her shift higher and closer to him—close as she could press in fact to his legs without actually crawling up on top his lap. Still kneeling but upright. So he could fiddle with her hair and her tits while she was cranking on him. Not really part of the deal, but she hadn't objected. He wasn't pinching her, or anything mean. His touch felt good, actually. A bit too good. Electric shivers through her hair, her earlobes, her nipples. And ... downstairs, also. He wasn't touching her there, and couldn't have reached that far, not at least without moving his legs out of the way and bending over, but she felt the same electric shivers inside it, regardless. 

She was glad her couldn't see her crotch anymore. Blocked safe below his own legs. She was soaking the front of her panties pretty seriously. She didn't know for sure—she hadn't glanced down to check—but from the feeling down there, she was pretty sure the moisture would be visible. A huge dark hungry sex-splotch. 

He kept on carrying on ... "Huuhh. Hoohh. Haahhahhuuhh." 

"My hand is getting pretty tired. Pretty sore, I mean. My whole forearm."

"Funny, you're not the first girl I've heard make that complaint. Yet never seems to happen to my arm when I do this myself." 

"Well, shit, you put in so much more practice every day, building up those particular muscles."

"Ha, yeah, that must be it. Haahhuuhh."

"You want to take over for me?"

"Nah, I think I'll pass. You're way better at it. I've never made my dick feel half as good as you're doing. Honest. If you want to give your hand a break, hey, feel free to switch to your mouth." 




K's Keys



"Clever. Thing is, I've got another hand." She switched. "See? No need for my mouth yet."

"What happens when that hand starts to wear out?"

"You won't last that much longer. You can't. If you do, hopefully my other arm will feel better by then. I'll be getting fed up with you, though. At that point. Fair warning. I'll start to get bored pretty soon. You better come before I lose patience." 

"I got another suggestion. If you don't want to get bored, and you don't wanna use your mouth, how about you just slip those panties off and hop up here on me? Then we'll both be enjoying this equally." 

"You don't have a condom," she said.

"Actually ..." He produced one from his pocket, holding the packet up to her mouth. "Bite the rim." She thought about it for a minute and then she did, allowing him to tear the packet open. She spat aside the top part. "Take it," he said, still holding it in front of her face. "Put it on me." 

"Put it on yourself." 

"It's better if you do it. I'll stay hard if you're doing it." Meaning he wouldn't if he had to put it on with his own hands. She'd dated another guy like that. Couldn't start to pull one on without going totally limp. She'd seen it reduce that guy to tears, the poor wretch. But so long as he left it in her hands, doing the job, there was no hitch ... In fact it would make the guy harder, watching her do that to him and from the encouraging feeling of it, as she crammed the ring of one carefully over his cockhead and unrolled the rest and then coaxed the whole sheath with both hands into a perfect secure fit, tight and smooth top to bottom, and ready for her ... 

She was pretty damn good at that, for whatever it's worth. Not like it's all that tough, but there's a trick to doing it right and lots of people never master it. 

"Fine. Here." 

She snatched the thing and shook it from the packet and slipped it over him. Didn't give her any trouble. Five seconds flat, and he stayed firm. 

If she was gonna go ahead with this, he was ready to go now.

Well, she already decided. Stupid to pretend she hadn't. Why did she put it on him if she hadn't already decided? She had. 

"Hell," she said, "Shit." She leaped up and shoved her panties down in one explosive burst of motion, like a Jack-in-the-box—perfectly timed, the panties had slid to her feet quick enough that she was able to hop right out of them as she hopped from her knees to her feet, both feet at once. Kicking the underwear across the room behind her. It was a pretty sweet move that really shouldn't have worked as well as it did; it was a miracle she didn't trip herself and fall on her bare ass. 

"Wow," he gasped, "God. K! Oh God! K!" 

She straddled his thighs. He reached for her pussy, circling her clit—she slapped his fingers away. Not sure why she did that. His fingers had felt good there, and they wouldn't have interfered with her taking a firm grip of his cock again and lowering herself upon it. As she did. 

"Here we go," she said, "Here—we—go!" Engulfing him, clear down to the root. 

It was good in there. Really good. She was full but not too full. Really wet and charged up but not too wet or too charged up to control her pace, by making her too sensitive and skittish. He was touching all the right places, at this angle. This was gonna be really damn good. 

Her hands moved to his shoulders and she got cooking. Started to bounce on him, hard as she could. He wanted to kiss her; she only let him for a few seconds. Then she pulled his head back by his hair. She wanted to see his face again, his whole expression as she fucked him, and hear him yelling his heart out. 

She got what she wanted. Everything and more. 

One minor concern occurred to her, all the sudden ... "You better not come before me. I'll be pissed if I don't get to get off too." 

"I won't. I won't. I promise. I won't. Uh! Uhhn! Uhhaah! Uhhuurruuhh!" 

"You sure? How close are you? You sound pretty close." Actually he didn't sound any worse or wilder than he had before. He'd sounded like he was about to pop from the very first second she squeezed him with her hand, and then never did. But now that she'd come this far ... now she'd mounted the fucker, now was when he'd give out on her, now when it really counted. And leave her dangling. That's how life goes. 

"Babe, it's fine," he said, "I'm fine. I promise. Hell, it doesn't matter anyway. Huhhuuh! Huhaahh! If you make me come, I've still got a tongue, you know." 

Now K was particularly fond of cunnilingus, like most women. Except she'd had generally rotten luck finding partners who would do it for her. At least not with any enthusiasm. Thus it was, when Graham said what he just said, he scored major points. It was a pretty big deal for her. Thanks to her particular personal history, it had a pretty profound impact. 

K had an orgasm. Right that instant. Whammo. One that really clobbered her, like it swooped in on her out of nowhere. It hadn't, of course. She'd been building and building up to this since the start of Graham's silly game. She just hadn't realized how close she'd got. Hadn't let herself. Hadn't wanted to get her hopes up.

So it wasn't just what Graham had said about his tongue that set her off. That line just gave her the last little nudge or spark, on top of all the rest. 

She didn't moan or scream. She didn't make a sound. Just squeezed her eyes tight and bit her lip bloody and went rigid for several seconds—quivering all over—and then she flopped forward, completely boneless. Properly clobbered. Gasping like she'd burst up from the bottom of ocean. 

Graham didn't screw it up, either. Thank Christ. He didn't say anything stupid and he didn't move. Just held her, around her middle—tight but not too tight—and waited. 

K knew this was absurd, yet each and every time she'd first gone to bed with a guy—with the intention of not just fooling around but going all the way to the finish line with him—she hadn't wanted him to turn out very good at it, not deep down. Or at least she didn't mind if that was how things ended up. Which was how it always had. Nobody could ever get her off on his first go. Not with his penis, anyway. Yet it would be a relief, in a funny way, rather than a disappointment. Whenever that happened again, and the guy failed to get her off before he lost his shit and got off himself, her first response (in her mind) was always just "Well then. There you go." Every time, those same words. 

Takes the pressure off you, is the thing. From then on. You don't have to work for a relationship after that. Or not very hard. You stick with the guy, you're doing him a favor. You're cutting him slack. The burden's all on him, fundamentally, to keep the thing going, to make it worth your investment despite the initial disappointment. Helps keep him from taking you for granted, at least for a while. And when he does eventually get tired of you and tired of trying to keep you happy, like they all do, and stops putting in enough effort, it's not hard to walk away. You can cut loose right there and not feel let down or guilty about it at all. 'Cause hey, you couldn't even count on the asshole to make you come, could you? Whole time you were letting that shit slide, out of the goodness of your heart ... Of course she'd never actually said any of this stuff out loud to a guy—she never would—but you didn't have to. It would just float in the air, in that situation. The guy would know—even if he didn't know he knew, or acted like he didn't, he still knew.

Graham had just broken the streak. 

It was startling. A little scary too. More than a little. 

It put her in his power. That was what it did. 

Now that he'd shown that he could make her feel this way ... that he could make her feel this good ... That meant this relationship wasn't gonna be disposable. Not another lightweight one, easy-come, easy go ... This one was gonna be different. Much much riskier. A guy like this, you hung on to, hard as you could and long as could. But a guy that could make her feel this good could also end up seriously hurting her. If this one didn't work out, she wouldn't be able to shrug it off like all the rest. This one was under her skin. This one would break her heart. 

God. Pretty intense realization. Pretty scary. Exciting, too. Thrilling. 

Left her belly churning and her head whirling ... Her eyes were watering again. No, she was actually crying, a little bit. God. She couldn't remember feeling this mixed up in a long, long time. Really happy and yet super worried too, both at once, all jumbled together.

She still wasn't bouncing on him no more. She stayed limp, slumped against him. Would have fallen over if he wasn't holding her so good. Their foreheads were leaning together, supporting each other.

He was still hard. Just as much as before. She'd stopped fucking him, but she was still impaled on him, all the way to the root. He still hadn't got off yet. She'd imagined or assumed he would shoot inside her when she climaxed, or immediately afterward, but he still hadn't. Jesus. Was she ever gonna get this fucker off? What was it gonna take? 

"I'm not sure I can fuck you anymore," she said, "Not like this. Need a good breather, at least. I'm worn out, little bit. Whew." 

"That's all right," he replied, "Let's swap spots."

"What? Hey!" 

He gripped her ass in both hands to support her so he could stand up while still inside her. Only for a second or two, swiveling them both around and lowering her butt to the chair. His cock slipped out of her as he did that, and because the wooden chair had a high back, he had trouble finding a good angle to fit himself back into her. She couldn't lean back far enough for him. He'd have to tilt back the entire chair on two legs and it was too heavy with her on it. He couldn't safely support it in that position and hump her at the same time. They tried it but only for a few seconds. No good.

"Shit," he said, kneeling down on the floor, like she'd done for him, "Let's try this instead." He peeled off the condom and flung it away. "Hate these stupid things."

"Everybody does," she said, "Try picking out the bits of a busted one from inside you. 'Specially if the guy came too, when he broke it. Real fun." 

"Sounds like it. I can't come with one on. At least I've never managed to."

"Oh, so that was your secret. That's how you've held out so long." 

"Yeah. Pretty much. Actually it was kind of torturous. Seriously. It's not that I can't feel anything, but it feels wrong. It feels like, well, like I've got squeezy plastic all around my cock. Just holds me back. Then when you came, when I saw that look on your face ... God. I'll never forget that look. I almost died. I wanted to die. Would have exploded if that damn condom let me. Would have been wonderful."

"Sorry. Not letting anybody impregnate me for another good few years, at least." 

"It's fine." He had grabbed her feet. He was pulling her socks off. 

"What are you up to now down there?"

"Finally," was all he said, now that he had her barefoot. He held both her feet by the ankles and pressed her toes against the sides of his cock. "So pretty." He thrust against them, and pumped them up and down. "Oh! Oh! There we go! There! Yeah! Oh!" 

For a while she was content to watch him doing this, and the sweat pouring down his face. And the hot slick rod of meat rubbing between her toes felt surprisingly pleasant. Weird but enticing. Then she sat up a little straighter and said "Let go of my ankles. Let me do it now. Let me try." 

He obeyed, leaning back and holding his own heels. She fucked him with her feet, with her clenched toes. Fast, slow, fast again, slow again ... "You like that? That good? That what you wanted, all this time?"

"Guuhhuuh. Faster, K. Like before. Faster. Please, K. Please! Oh! Please! Ohhhoohh!" 

"You better come for me soon! I've worked long enough! I've stripped for you and got on my knees for you, and I've jerked on you and rode on you and I came for you, too, and now I'm even giving you a pervy footjob. Come on now! Fucking come! Let me see it! Do it! Do it now!"

"Oh! Ohhuuhh! Ohhuuhh!" Still took the bastard another endless minute. Christ he took a lot of work. Then at last, at last, he burst. "Ahhuuhhaahhh! Yes!" 

Funny kinky feeling, taking it on her feet like that. All over her feet. He drenched them both pretty good with the stuff. She moaned out loud at that feeling, and the funny kinky spectacle of it. "Ohhuuhh God. Uhhhuuhh." It was kind of icky and embarrassing and yet also kind of awesome and powerful. Of course all sex is like that, isn't it? All the different silly yucky weird beautiful things we do to each other, to get off. 

"Are you always gonna wanna come on me this way?" she asked, wrinkling her nose at him. 

"Not always," he said ... meaning, probably, most of the time. "While I'm down here," he added, and then leaned forward between her thighs. Jammed his face in there deep as he could. 

She grabbed his hair. "Hey now! Hey!" Wasn't quick enough to stop him before his tongue had reached her clit and started flicking ... Not that she really wanted to. 

Seemed it was her turn to holler now. 

"Hey! Hey! Heyuuhhh HUUHH HUURRHH HOOHH HHHAAHHH!"

She wouldn't be coming quietly again like that first one. 

*****

I wanted to try one that was a bit more real world than the majority of my transgressive tales. And also less morally abhorrent.