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Sweats

By: Philharmonic



They arrived around four thirty, bringing big smiles and welcome six-packs. Jenny and William, Two of my best friends who were lucky enough to find, in each other, soul-mates. They were the last to arrive and so our party could begin. I manned the foreman grill, it being my house, while everyone else settled in around the TV to watch the game. No less than half an hour in, while the burgers were cooking nicely, Jenny got up and joined me in the kitchen. "Can I talk to you about something, Phil?" She asked. I nodded and she grabbed a soda from the fridge and scooted up onto the counter, leaning her shoulders back and crossing her legs in the same way she always did when we were talking serious.

Jenny and I had always been able to talk about anything. We were very close, as close as two friends can get without crossing a line that neither of us thought we should cross. We just meant too much to each other. I had met Jenny while attending school, she was there for an education degree and I was there for psychology. We spent nearly every day together during those three years, and we developed a bond that lasts to this day. We even helped each other through a mid-term crisis which ended in us switching majors. She became a psychologist and I became a teacher. Three years after graduation and we were still the best of friends.

I mentioned that line that we thought we shouldn't cross. That is not to say I didn't think about it. I did, more than I probably should have. She was always the kind of person who thought she was the most hideous thing on earth, no matter how wrong she was. I had always been taken with her beauty, and tonight was no exception. Jenny stands a buxom 5'5" with a double D cup size and an hourglass figure. She has shoulder length, dark blonde (almost brown) hair that usually stayed straight unless it was really humid. She has the most expressive dark green eyes, and she always seems to be able to see directly into my thoughts. She is by no means perfect, age and time are just beginning to get the better of her, but she carries her Thirty-One years well, and the maturity makes her all the more desirable. She would never have been called a supermodel, but her genuine warmth transforms her from merely good-looking to radiant.

She was wearing a white tank-top under a buttoned up white men's dress shirt, untucked, and a pair of worn-looking white sweatpants with a understated panty line and just a hint of a camel-toe. I always thought she looked her best when she wasn't trying, it let her personality shine through more. She always seemed like her personality was muffled whenever she gussied herself up. Not that she couldn't look absolutely stunning in an evening gown, I just preferred her when she was herself, not the beauty she thinks she has to be. She was barefoot, preferring almost never to wear shoes in the comfort of her own home (and I guess she felt just as comfortable in mine.)

It took her a moment to find her voice, which she kept low so the others in the next room couldn't hear, and she began her story as I was flipping the patties and adding the brats to the grill. "It's William." she blurted. "I love him dearly, and I wouldn't trade him for the world, but that man doesn't know what it is I need." She paused, looking at me with a worried expression, waiting for me to tell her to stop being silly, no doubt. I just cocked one eyebrow and let the silence trail on. Eventually she began again. "When William and I make love, it's just that, Making Love. And it's wonderful! His skills in the bedroom are simply amazing. It's just that he doesn't see the need to make love to me more than once or twice a month. And when I try to tell him I need more, he just laughs it off and tells me to stop being childish. I know he thinks I'm not serious, but I am. You know me, I was used to getting it three or four times a week, and now its dropped to once every two weeks! If I'm lucky!" Her eyes were beginning to tear up at this point, so I slid around the grill and stood next to her, putting my arm around her shoulder, and told her it was OK. "I'm even cheating tonight," She gestures down at her sweats. "I know these sweats turn him on, so I wore them, with one of his shirts, and I'm getting nothing from him. Not even a second glance." I let her talk her problem out, and I told her to try again to talk it out with her new husband (while keeping tight lipped about what I really wanted to say)

To be honest, the rest of the night was kind of a blur to me, we ate and laughed and watched the game, and after dinner we sat around the kitchen table to play cards and talk.. We all lost track of time, and before we knew it, it was almost Two A.M. Everyone decided to leave and try to make it home before it got too late. Everyone except Jenny and William, who had both had a couple of drinks. Better safe than sorry, my mom always told me, so I offered the two of them the queen sized bed that I used to share with my ex-fiance Michelle, before she walked out on me three months ago, and I settled into the back office to sleep on the futon. All I could think about was Jenny in those sweats, and I had a hard time falling asleep, knowing how unsatisfied she was right down the hall. I finally convinced my over-active imagination to settle down by firmly telling myself that Jenny and I were friends, nothing more, and I held her in too high a regard to try and impose something else on her when she is this fragile. I drifted off around Three-Thirty, and dreamed of little else except Jenny and those sweats, languishing back on my counter like that. Barely two hours had passed when I woke with a start to the creak of the floorboards in the hall. Assuming that someone was using the restroom, I chided myself on the slight, irrational, hope that sprang unbidden to my heart. Imagine my surprise when the office door quietly opened and Jenny, resplendent in her sweats and tank-top, crept in.

"You awake?" She whispered.

"Yeah." I croaked, even my equally quiet whisper sounding horse as my voice caught in my throat. I could hear William sawing logs down the hall, and I knew Jenny had crept out so as not to wake him.

"Look, Phil." She whispered, coming into the office and quietly shutting the door behind her. "I don't want you to say anything. I'm not drunk, and I'm not crazy. I just figured that we had always been able to help each other through anything, and we both need help right now." She sat on the edge of the futon and looked at me, her face showing no signs of this being a joke.

Her body was even more stunning than I had imagined it would be, outlined as it was by the light from the computer screen behind her. I could tell she wasn't wearing a bra, mostly because her nipples were as hard as diamonds and poking through her top in a most pleasing way. I rightly kept my mouth shut and let her continue.

She pulled the sheet off the futon with one hand while holding me down with the other, revealing me in nothing more than a pair of boxers, even as she continued speaking. "Don't think I don't notice the way you look at me, ogling me whenever you think I'm not looking. And I'm flattered, really." She began to lean over me at this point, positioning herself on top of me, and when she swung her leg over my hips, I knew she could feel my growing erection. She smiled and leaned down, our faces almost touching. "But, what I notice even more than the staring:" she breathed. Her warm breath sending a tingle through my lips. "Is your respect. You know that I am happy with us as we are, so you don't chase me, no matter how much you want to." I started to reply but she silenced me by kissing me full on the mouth. 

My body responded without me thinking, my arms encircling her and pulling her close, even as my lips moved with hers and our tongues found each others. I had never experienced a more passionate kiss, nor had I ever experienced one so sweet. Her lips on mine were a symphony of hunger and passion, without losing any of the soft tenderness that makes a kiss one worth remembering forever. When she finally came up for air (several long, glorious, seconds later) she gave me that playful smile of hers and whispered: "I thought I told you not to speak? Please, don't make me do that again... Until I'm ready." 

She snuggled deeper into my arms and laid her head on my chest, no doubt listening to my racing heartbeat. Her hair smelled of lavender and red wine, I took in her scent eagerly as she lay there, and my erection was in full swing by this point. She wiggled her hips just enough to let me know without words that she could sense my eagerness, and I caught a trace of warmth from her womanhood, even through the sweats and our respective unmentionables. I wasn't fool enough to let go. 

After a moment she continued. "Phil, you know what I am going through, and I know you have been lonely ever since Michelle left. And I know that you will understand that this has to be kept quiet. I am still in love with William, and I have no plans to change that, or OUR relationship. But I also know that you want me. And, if you couldn't tell, I want you too." To make her point she wriggled her hips again, just enough to let me catch that moment of warmth on my erect manhood. "So, what I am offering is a trade. We each get what we want, I can go back to William without the stress, and you get to finally make good on all those promises you have been making with your eyes whenever you thought I wasn't looking." She lifter her head and pulled back enough to look me in the eyes, all without breaking my hold around her. "Do we have a deal? If you say no, I will understand, and we will never have to speak of this again. You can speak now."

She looked at me, uncertainty in her eyes. And I gazed back into hers, telling her with my eyes all the things I wanted to say with my voice but couldn't, as she waited for my response. When I finally did respond it was still without words, I leaned forward and up and kissed her with all the passion that she had so effectively silenced me with a moment ago. The kiss went on for even longer this time, and when we finally did pull apart she looked at me, breathless, and said: "I... I wasn't ready!" So I kissed her again. 

This time, I loosened my hands so I could run them down the smooth fabric of her tank top and slip my fingertips underneath the seam. As I pulled the garment up, she got the idea and broke the kiss so she could sit up and pull the white shirt off over her head in one smooth motion. And she was before me, perfect breasts rising and falling in time with her panting breaths. I slid one hand around her waist and pulled her down again, bringing her chest to my mouth. With my other hand, I cupped her right breast, taking the rock hard nipple into my mouth, kissing and sucking in ways that made her shudder with anticipation. As I switched breasts, my hand at her waist got two fingers under the elastic of those wonderful sweats and began gently tugging them down. She expertly lifted her body on her hands and tiptoes, arching her back so I could have an easier time of sliding her sweats off without taking my mouth from her breasts. Within seconds she was straddling me, completely nude.

Reluctantly, she pulled away from my mouth and again sat up. She began sliding her hands down my chest, and reached my boxers, which she unbuttoned with one easy movement, freeing my quivering penis. She repositioned herself and leaned down again to kiss me, entwining her hands with mine and timing her shift downward so her tongue would enter my mouth just as my manhood entered her. There was no resistance, she was well moistened by that point. I shuddered as my penis slid into the warmth of her waiting vagina. When I had sunk in to the hilt, she stopped moving her hips to just hold there, never breaking the kiss. Loving every second of my filling her just as I was loving every second of her enveloping me. After several long moments of almost pure bliss, she broke the kiss and pulled back to again look into my eyes. Her every movement sending shivers down my spine as I could feel her vaginal muscles contracting and expanding.

I met her gaze with my own, pouring all the love and longing I felt into my eyes, and an unspoken thought was shared between us: We fit together, perfectly. Without breaking eye contact, she began to move, swaying her hips forward and backward ever so slightly, causing me to begin making thrusting motions in time with her movements. It wasn't long before her movements increased in speed and urgency, and I began pulling out and thrusting back in harder and faster. She opened her mouth to moan or scream and I silenced her with another kiss, no need to wake anyone. The kiss grew more passionate and she began taking playful nips and bites at my lips and tongue. I began thrusting even harder, my powerful hips lifting her off the mattress with each thrust so she would come down on me that much harder. I could feel my testicles slapping against her firm ass as I buried myself in her, over and over again. 

She began shaking, ever so slightly, starting in her toes and spreading upwards throughout her entire body and she closed her eyes in satisfaction, biting her lower lip to keep from screaming as her first orgasm took her. I was reveling in every sensation. As her hair tickled my shoulders and her breasts pushed against my chest. As her fingers tightened around mine and loosened again, rhythmically in time to my thrusts. As her knees tightened, squeezing my sides like they were holding on for dear life as she came to her first orgasm. As her vaginal muscles tightened over and over again around my manhood while she let loose even more warm juices while she came. I slowed to a halt, all the way inside her, holding there while she rode out her orgasm. And when it was over, she looked at me with delight, turning to surprise as I began thrusting again.

This time was slow on her part, she was basking in the afterglow and enjoying the sensation of me being inside her all over again. That's when I slipped my hands out of hers and around her again, running my fingertips from her neck to the small of her back and back again, she began to quiver again under my touch and her hips began to move more forcefully in concert with mine. I slowly built up to my previous intensity and began lifting her from the mattress again. I was getting close, and I wanted to savor every millisecond of this while I reached climax. As I got closer, I could feel the shuddering starting at her toes again. I gently but forcefully dug my nails into her back, even as she arched backwards. I slammed into her one last time and she began to shake as I blew my essence deep within her womanhood. The force of my orgasm enough to send her over the edge into her second one. I didn't even try to stop the moan escaping my lips, because it timed perfectly with hers.

When it was over, and we had both ridden the waves of orgasm to a wonderful climax, we again locked eyes, grinning from ear to ear. We knew something wonderful had just happened, and we also knew it would remain private, because we could both clearly still hear William snoring away down the hall. We fell asleep, still entwined, and lay there for several hours until the light of dawn roused us enough to go take showers and return to our own beds. As I lay back, once again alone, I was finally able to close my eyes to a peaceful sleep.

We have all remained the closest of friends, and no mention has passed in public about that fateful, wonderful night. But Jenny and I still remember it. We have been going on as friends (albeit with an exciting new twist) as though nothing happened. William is still as passionless as ever. Jenny still loves him dearly. I have remained single, more by choice than anything else, though I have no wish to end Jenny and Williams marriage. And, when the craving gets to be too much for her, she will wear those wonderful white sweats when she and William come over. When that happens, I am always the most gracious of hosts, allowing them to share my bed while I sleep in the back. And always, late that night, Jenny and I discover anew the passion that makes the whole world go away.

Sweaty



Mike was a huge man. He was a welder at a prefab steel shop in Buffalo. His wife of four years, Eileen, was also a welder at the same shop. She was a big woman, twenty eight years old, five foot eleven and a hundred and seventy pounds. Big Mike dwarfed her. He was six foot eight and two hundred eighty pounds. Together they made an imposing pair. Both of them were very strong from working all day with steel.

Friday had rolled around at last. Eileen got in the car beside Mike and they left the company parking lot. "Brewski?" asked Mike.

"Sure, why not," replied Eileen.

They stopped at the Black North Inn, a tavern on the shores of Lake Erie. They were well known in the bar and it was only two blocks to their house. Perfect.

"Hey, Mike, Eileen," the bartender greeted them as they strolled through the door.

"Give us a couple of brews," Mike told him.

Mike and Eileen found a table near the back of the place. Soon their first beers of the evening arrived. Mike looked at Eileen. "I can kick your ass at shuffle board," he challenged.

"Bullshit! Get your money ready!" Eileen retorted.

Eileen kicked his ass six out of ten. Her finesse game defeated Mike's slam, bang style. "Now you owe me big time," Eileen said with an evil gleam in her eyes.

"I guess I better start paying then. Let's go home."

They walked through their back door and directly into the laundry room. Mike hugged her tightly and kissed her. "Naked, naked, we need to be naked," he stuttered.

Eileen stripped his shirt and t-shirt from him. She bent and removed his boots and socks. Finally she pulled off his pants and shorts. His seven inch cock flopped out at eye level. She sucked it greedily into her hungry mouth. They hadn't had an after work shower yet so Mike's dick was salty and a little funky. Eileen licked his sweaty nuts. "Mmmm, yummy," she remarked.

Mike pulled her to her feet and removed her shirt and bra. He sucked a sweaty nipple into his mouth. As her sucked her, he fumbled with her pants. He let go of her tit and bent to remove her shoes and socks.

"Lick my feet, loser!" Eileen commanded.

Mike engulfed her right foot, enjoying the sweat and salt. Her feet were kind of stinky, but Mike didn't care. He kissed them and licked them. At last he got her pants unfastened and jerked her pants and panties off.

"Eat my stinky pussy!" Eileen ordered.

Mike obediently rammed his head between her thighs and sucked on her smelly pussy. He licked and licked until it was clean. He took her clit between his lips and ran his tongue around it, peeling back her sheath with an expert sucking motion. Eileen moaned and pulled his head tighter into her womanhood. She was starting to leak cunt juice. "Fuck me now," she commanded.

Mike stood up and sat her on the washing machine. She quivered in anticipation as she watched his cock near her pussy. "Oh, yeah!" she sighed as Mike sank all seven inches into her. He started his pumping action and she gratefully returned his tender attention. She wrapped her legs around him lifting herself off the washing machine. "Take me to bed," she whispered. 

Mike hoisted her off the machine and walked to the bedroom with his cock still buried deep within her. He flopped down on top of her on the bed. "Now you're gonna see what the winner gets!" he told her.

She loved it when Mike's big, hairy body was mashing her into the mattress. She held him tight and kissed him as he pounded her pussy hard. "Oh Mike, I'm cumming, I'm cumming," she sighed. "Squirt it in me!"

Mike felt her pussy trying to crush his cock. He picked up the pace, pounding furiously into her. She was throbbing and shaking around his dick. He felt himself swell as she came on him. He released a massive burst of seed into her waiting cunt. She suddenly went limp and he collapsed on top of her. His half hard cock was still plugged into her, leaking semen.

"I love that stuff inside me," Eileen said when she came to.

"I love putting it there," Mike replied. 

"We need a shower," Eileen told him.

He grinned at her and rolled off. "Wait 'til I catch my breath."

They cuddled for half an hour or so, sweaty, stinky, juicy, sticking together. Finally, Eileen got up and headed for the bathroom. "Come on tiger, I want to scrub your smelly body."

Mike rolled out and followed her. He watched her fine ass swaying ahead of him, inviting him, teasing him. As she turned on the shower, he pulled her ass crack to his cock. She moaned and spread her legs. Mike's cock slid easily into her from behind. Both his hands were full of her tits. He tweaked her nipples and sucked on her neck.

"Stop it Mike! You're giving me a hickey."

"I'm just marking my territory," he replied.

"What will the guys at the shop think?" she giggled.

"They'll think I'm one lucky son of a bitch and they'll be right!"

"The water's hot," she commented.

"Let me lick up a little more of your sweat before we wash it all off," Mike said as he licked her ear lobes.

She giggled again and pulled him into the spraying water. Soon they were soapy and slippery. His cock slipped out of her as they attended to washing each other.

They got out of the shower and toweled each other off. Mike still had his hardon. "I'm gonna eat you again. Then I'm gonna fuck you," he declared as they headed for the bedroom.

She did a half gainer onto the bed and landed with her legs spread. "Come on get it!"

Mike devoured her now sweet smelling pussy. He rammed his tongue into her vagina. He licked her clit and stuck a finger into her, feeling for her "G" spot. Soon he located the rough little patch and fingered it vigorously. Eileen levitated off the mattress and screamed. His tongue on her clit and his finger on her spot were too much to take. She was shaking rapidly, her breath coming in short gasps. She screamed again as she came.

Mike crawled up her body and looked into her eyes. "That'll teach you to play with the boys and win," he told her and sank his cock all the way into her.

She was wriggling like a worm on a hook. The only thing she could think of was Mike's cock ramming into her, making her feel so good, driving her to climax. She felt the first spurts of his cum splash into her depths. Her own orgasm soon overtook her and she fainted in his arms.

"What happened?" she asked as she came around.

"I fucked you to death and then I resurrected you."

"You should have just kept on fucking. It was good where I was. I didn't want to wake up."

"I'll try to remember that the next time," Mike said.

"When would the 'next time' be?"

"That depends on how skillful you are at breathing some life into the cock you killed."

She laid her head on his belly and sucked his cock into her warm, wet mouth. She happily realized that he was going to fuck her all weekend.

"You know honey," he said, "I like this nice clean sex, but still, thinking back on what you did to me in the laundry room, I think I prefer those down and dirty, salty, stinky, sweaty fucks."



Sweaty Boobies



 Thanks to Estragon for his hard work copy editing. Thank you for your votes, comments and feedback! I'd also like to dedicate this to the Lady it was written about. It is a true story and I'm told I did get very effective revenge. 

She has been flirting with me for years. I've given it my best shot, crashed and burned, then backed away. She's married, and though she keeps saying she's going to make the break she never has. I gave it a shot when she told me she was going to get a divorce, but she hasn't and I am not about to do more than flirt until she is free. I've tried not to flirt but she flirts with me; and try as I might I just cannot resist her evil magic. The thing is, she always just seems to know how to get to me and she's good... I mean really good at it.

Case in point, it was a record- breaking temperature kind of day. Down here that means 100+. I'd spent hours driving my father around for various appointments in town, and had stopped on the way home to get a cold drink.

When she brought the order out the first thing I saw was her bare legs approaching beneath the order board, and I made the comment, "I'd know those legs anywhere."

After all I'd spent many an hour daydreaming of having them thrown over my shoulders or wrapped around my head while I did my best to wring every last possible orgasm from her. Pleasing her for hours on end, not stopping until she begged and pleaded and finally shook uncontrollably.

Her simple reply sent me reeling. The temp was 105 in the shade and she comes out with two words.

"Sweaty boobies."

My immediate reaction was to make the motorboat noise because that is what flashed in my mind. Naked, hot, sweaty and motorboating her cleavage to make her laugh. She did laugh, though we were in a public parking lot and nowhere near naked. I told her to keep the change and she danced away with "you have a good weekend! "

My weekend? Shopping for myself and my father, running next door to his house in the sweltering heat at least 6 times a day to give him medicine or cook him a meal or walk his dog. He is 70 and a disabled vet in a wheelchair. His life depends on me and I take my responsibilities seriously. I have some home health nursing help during the week but on weekends it's all up to me.

The heat broke records all weekend. It made me lazy, but I still had things to do. Clean house, take care of Pops, finish a remodeling project, and work on chapter six of an erotic story series I have going on Literotica. I just could not seem to concentrate on Dragon and Ames and the trials of their lives. Dragon's warhorse Bore, who I love, has just been killed by a venomous snake, Ames has been abducted by a hostile faction of cat people, a demon is attacking the kingdom with a mind controlled army... and all I could think about was sweaty boobies.

Two sets of hot, slick, sweaty boobies pressed together while I kiss her, our hard nipples catching together as we move. Hot, slick, sweaty boobies sliding together while I have her pressed up against the wall in the bathroom where she works; nibbling her neck, my hand stuffed down the front of those uniform shorts, fucking her with my fingers and thumbing her clit, making her bite my shoulder to keep from moaning too loudly. The tangy, salty, taste of sweaty boobies as I lave them with my tongue, teasing the hardened nipples, finally making her cry out in passion despite the noises from the people just outside. The firm slickness of sweaty boobies as I reach up to stroke them, while alternating between sucking her clit and fucking her with my tongue. The joy of having my face buried in the erotic scent of sweaty boobies as she lowers herself into my lap and onto my strap-on, riding us both to ecstasy.

I have no idea what kind of evil magic this woman has, not only do her enchanting eyes unfailingly make my toes curl every damned time I look into them, but she can totally steal whatever rational thought I have for an entire weekend with two words: Sweaty Boobies. I am both wildly attracted and slightly scared by it.

No one else has ever had this much control of me, yes, me, the hard butch top who revels in being in total control of a lover, driving both her and myself beyond the normal physical limitations of pleasure with subtle mind games. Teasing and pleasing is my passion. I think I am probably very lucky that she only toys with me. If she ever did make the break she could easily take control of me and I'd be lost forever to her evil magic.

I must admit I do practice some evil magic of my own and I am not above a little harmless revenge. All I have to do is send her this, tell her it is all her fault and she has final say over whether I publish it for all the world to see. She may have stolen my thoughts for a weekend but if she falls for it and reads this she will never look at that bathroom the same again.

*

 Epilogue: This story was written about occurrences that took place over the July 4th weekend. The Lady has since made her break for freedom. She is not legally free yet but as soon as she is....." 



Sweaty Nostalgia



I'm entering this in the "Summer Lovin'" contest. It's my first contest. I implore you to vote for me! I'll do anything you want!

*

I remember how we met. I was sitting with my laptop in a warm and cozy apartment on a snowy winter's eve in France, listening to Pharoah Sanders on my stereo. You sent me an audacious email, flirting with me simply on the basis of my username, and recklessly, I replied. 

In retrospect, I suspect you were doing a lot of that sort of thing, because as I was to learn before too long, you were horny, and had gone for a long time without any sexual contact. We warily sized each other up via email, discussing jazz, William Faulkner, and French Impressionism, then progressed to online chatting, and within weeks we were having ferocious cyber- and/or phone sex several times a day, calling each other up at 3 AM, emailing provocative photos, sometimes hardly sleeping at all for days at time. 

Of course, I was in Europe, so the idea of having sex with you in person was logistically awkward. When springtime came and I finally learned I was being transferred back to the states, you told me you were now in a committed relationship. Reading between the lines, I got the distinct impression that the sex was a bit pedestrian, but of course, relationships are built on more than just sex. So, I let you alone. I was to be living 1000 miles to the west of you anyway, instead of across the Atlantic.

But then no one told me that just a few months later I would be sent by my employer on a business trip to the very city where you worked as a librarian. I had the afternoon free, and I figured that it wouldn't hurt to drop in and say hello, so I google-mapped the library, got in my rental car, and set out to give you what I assumed would be a pleasant surprise.

I parked the car and began walking across the lot to the library. It was humid, east-coast humid, making me feel like I was sealed in a cocoon of warm air. It was the kind of weather where the mere act of opening the door to your air-conditioned rental car causes you to break out in a sweat. But every now and then there was the encouraging nip of a breeze coming from the Atlantic coast a few miles away, and rain was in the forecast.

Feeling just a bit nervous and dizzy from the heat, I entered the library. It was cool inside, and I strolled around, getting my bearings, until I saw you sitting behind the reference desk. You spotted me immediately, and if I'm not mistaken, you blushed. I was surprised that you could recognize me, having only seen photos. I found it hard to read your expression from across the room. It looked like you smiled, but I couldn't be sure. Perhaps it was a mixture of responses. At any rate, I made my way, a little sheepishly, to your desk.

"Hello, Andre," you said. "It is you, right?" You were definitely not smiling now. "This is unexpected."

"Hi, Sally," I replied. "I didn't know until this morning that I would be in the neighborhood. I thought I'd surprise you."

"Well, you succeeded in doing that." Here you glared at me, to make sure I got the point. "I told you I had a boyfriend, right?"

"Sure," I said, smiling sincerely. "But I'm not the jealous type."

"Funny," you replied, not laughing. You looked at your fingernails for a minute and said, "Look, we can't talk here. And it's almost time to close. We can talk for a couple of minutes upstairs. There's a conference room." Abruptly you rose from your chair and headed for the staircase. 

I followed, watching your ass move beneath your grey skirt as we ascended the stairs. You were wearing one of those severe librarian's outfits, a long-sleeved white blouse with a bit of frill, buttoned up to the collarbone, and black shoes with moderate heels. Suddenly I was hard. I wasn't sure what I really had in mind, back when I decided to drop in you. Now my heart was racing, and I must have been having a flashback to all of those long-distance encounters, when the sound of the phone ringing would almost make me cum in my pants. Being in physical proximity brought back all the memories, with an added dollop of lust. Somehow in my fantasies I had never gotten around to imagining what you might look like, from behind, climbing stairs. Your legs looked great from where I was; I only wished that your skirt had been a little shorter. And the motion of your hips was mesmerizing. I was hoping against hope that you remembered all those hot phone sessions as vividly as I did.

As we reach the top of the stairs and entered the conference room, you turned and said to me with an exasperated tone, "Why on earth would you come to where I work?" I wasn't prepared to answer that just then. I didn't think that a discussion would be to my advantage. Instead, I pushed the door shut with my foot as I leaned over to kiss you.

I remember how quickly you pulled away, and how sternly you said, "Forget it, it's totally inappropriate." But I really couldn't help myself. Somehow I had lost all sense of propriety. I seized your shoulders and kissed you hard, again, as you struggled against me and pressed your lips together primly. Somehow I managed to catch one of your hands and press it against my crotch, so that you could feel the hardness of my cock through my slacks. I heard you catch your breath and you froze for a moment, and I knew that I had your attention, so I pressed my advantage. I repositioned your hand so that you could grasp my cock through my pants, which you did, simultaneously relaxing your lips so that the tips of our tongues came into contact. I was all the more excited, but then you fought to regain your self-control, breaking away from the kiss and hissing, "we can't possibly do this here." I only moaned in response, and escalated. My pants had no belt, only an elastic waistband, and in one quick motion I pulled them down, along with my briefs, exposing my erect cock. You stared at it, transfixed, and muttered, "Oh my god, it's so big." I stepped toward you again, and you could not help but reach out and seize it, causing me to quake with pleasure. You stared silently at my cock, and I heard you swallow. I pulled your face toward mine and kissed you again, and this time your kiss was willing and open, your tongue gliding over mine as you took my cock in both hands. 

At this point, you broke off the kiss again, and gave me a penetrating gaze. "Damn you," you whispered, "wait a minute," and then ran to close the blinds and lock the door, as I stood there with my pants down to my knees. You hurried back to me and put your hands right back on my cock, offering your mouth to me for another lingering kiss. Your tongue slid into my mouth as your hands worked slowly up and down my shaft. Then you guided me to a nearby armchair where you sat me down, knelt in front of me and ran your hands tantalizingly over my cock. You slowly lowered your head and began to engulf it with your hungry mouth. You bobbed up and down, and then broke free, looking at me imploringly and saying, "You can cum in my mouth." 

I nodded mutely and you began once again to suck me, while kneading your breasts through your blouse. You stopped for a moment and hurriedly unbuttoned your blouse. I was impressed by how fast and nimbly your fingers worked. Next you unhooked your flimsy brassiere, which had a clasp in the front. You knelt there for a moment with your eyes closed, making little whimpering sounds and pinching your nipples. I reached down and stroked my cock a few times just as you opened your eyes, and seeing the excitement on your face, I stroked it some more. 

You were really beside yourself, watching me masturbate. Your eyes were like saucers, and your fingers on your nipples grew more and more agitated. Finally you bent forward and captured my cock between your breasts, moving them up and down as my hips began to buck involuntarily. Surrendering to desire, you rubbed my cock and balls all over your face, then against your nipples, and then you swallowed it deep again. I almost came right then and there. You caught me between your breasts again, and began to tit-fuck me with the greatest urgency, while growling in a low, husky voice, "I'm desperate for your cock. I want to taste your cum. I want you to cum on my face. I want you to cum on my tits..." There was something in the tone of your voice that transported me to new heights of intense excitement; I was groaning with pleasure.

Then the phone rang. "Damn!" you muttered, and scurried over to the phone. I remember you saying a few things to the party on the other side of the call; I was so heated up that it really didn't register. But then you came back to me and said, "We've got to get out of here. The library staff is going to meet in this room." You dressed hurriedly, pausing only to hiss at me, "Come on, pull your pants up. We're leaving." I noticed that you said "we," which I found encouraging, even though I was maddened by frustration at having to stop just short of climax.

You opened the blinds again, and in a minute or two we were on our way out of the building. It was raining hard, warm rain. You had an umbrella which we shared, as you led me to your Mitsubishi. I moved toward the passenger's side, but you stopped me, handed me the keys, kept the umbrella, and said, "No, you drive." 

"Where are we going?" I asked.

"I don't care," you replied, "but we need to get out of this lot." The rain was coming down with a steady roar. The car felt like a steam bath. I turned on the ignition, hunted for the lever to turn on the windshield wipers, put them on full speed, and drove out onto the street. I then turned right on a side street lined with large trees. To the right was some sort of industrial park.

"You think anyone can see into the car with all this rain?" you asked.

"I doubt it," I said.

"Good." And then you unbuttoned the front of your skirt. "Damn you, you've got me so horny," you said, flinging your legs akimbo. I looked over as you began to stroke yourself through your panties. I slowed down a bit, wanting to watch, but not wanting to collide with anything in the bad weather. You looked sharply at me. "Just park the car. Under those trees."

I complied, and as the car rolled to a stop, you lifted your behind and stripped off your panties, and then, with a deadpan look, you reached over and rubbed them against my face. They were good and wet, and I caught them with my lips and sucked at the pussy juice. You let me have them as you returned to the task of masturbating. Your face was a mask of concentration. I strained my eyes to watch as you very deliberately ran your fingers up and down your slit, and then inside and then around your clit. The light inside the car, with the rainclouds overhead, was none too good. I yearned to see that special spot which had played a starring role in so many delicous fantasies, and I yearned to see it up close. You were breathing hard. 

I climbed into the back seat and said, "Come back here with me." You looked annoyed at being interrupted, but then you grumbled under your breath and climbed back. I had laid on my back. "Sit on my face," I said.

Without saying a word you undid your belt, stripped off your skirt, and straddled my mouth. Your thighs were slick with rain or sweat or pussy juice, it was difficult to say. I couldn't really see your pussy, but I could smell it, and I was so hungry for you at that point that I just seized you by the hips and began to devour you. Almost immediately you were moaning and bucking your hips, rubbing your pussy voluptuously against my face. I heard the mounting urgency in your voice, and within a minute your were cumming loudly. 

You didn't even pause to take a breath, but clambered awkwardly around in the confined space of the back seat until you were in the 69 position. "Come on, lift your butt," you commanded, and I did as you asked, even as I was adjusting my neck so that I could suck your pussy again. I felt you pull my pants to my knees, and once more my cock was swallowed by the welcoming wetness of your mouth. 

The cramped space of the back seat made me feel a bit claustrophobic, even as my senses were assaulted by the twin pleasures of your mouth on my cock, and your pussy on my mouth. "Wait a minute," I attempted to say, but my words were muffled by your crotch grinding against my face. I tried again, and this time managed to get the words out.

"What?" you demanded, with a tone of agitated annoyance.

"Let's get out of the car," I said.

"Are you insane?" you countered.

"No. It's raining like hell out there, no one is around, and they couldn't see us if they were."

Without answering, you took my cock once again into your throat, and I was content to revel in the pleasure, while plunging my tongue again into your pussy. After a minute or so of this, you paused and said, "All right."

We clambered out of the back seat into the rain, and what little clothing we had on was instantly drenched. The car was between us and the road, and there were trees and bushes surrounding us. I looked around, and was satisfied that anyone crazy enough to be walking around outside would be unable to see us. I seized you by the shoulders and kissed you hard -- you kissed me hard right back. Then I turned you around and had you lean against the car, while I stood behind you and teased your pussy lips with my cockhead.

"Come on," you said insistently, practically shouting to be heard over the rain. "Put it in!"

I put just a little of it in. You strained your hips upward, trying to get more. I reached forward and around you, and began to play with your nipples, which were jutting out against the drenched fabric of your blouse and bra. I allowed my cock to work it's way just an inch or so more into your pussy, and I began to move it tantalizing in and out. You groaned and tried to push against me, but I backed away, just a little.

Then you gave a sort of roar of frustration and broke free from me. You spun around, sank to your knees on the muddy ground, and swallowed my cock to the hilt. I cried out in pleasure as you fucked me with your mouth. Then you stopped, glared up at me and hollered over the roar of the rainfall, "Are you ready to fuck me properly?"

"Yes," was all I could say.

You re-assumed your position against the car, and I hurried to drive my cock back into your cunt, all the way this time. You began to cum almost immediately, and I kept slamming into you until you came a second time. Then I slowed way down, making sure that each thrust of my cock went as far into your pussy as it could possibly go. You began to tremble, groaning breathlessly about how you loved my big cock, and how it tasted so good, and you kept that up until your voice just broke into a wail and your whole body shook. Then you broke free again, turned around, pulled my face to within inches of yours, and stared into my eyes. "I want you to cum in my mouth," you said.

"Ever do anything like this with your boyfriend?" I inquired.

"Shut up," you said.

Once again you fell to your knees, engulfing my cock with your mouth. I was loving it as you methodically took me all the way in, over and over, and I was right on the edge of cumming, but I couldn't quite get there. "Wait a minute," I said. 

You looked up at me with an urgent and hungry look. "What?"

"Let's get back in the car."

"Why?"

"I need to taste your cunt. It will make me cum."

You rose to your feet, with the suggestion of a smile playing about your lips. Or maybe it was a smirk. You asked, "Does it taste as good as you imagined?"

In all honesty I replied, "Better."

You paused, and looked at me with satisfaction. "OK," you said. "Let's both cum." 

I got in first, and lay on my back. You backed into position, and stopped with your pussy just short of my face. You reached back and massaged your clit sensuously, just out of reach of my tongue. "Oh god," I cried, "let me taste it." I heard you snicker. Then you slowly lowered your swollen and sopping cunt to my face, simultaneous swallowing my cock to the hilt. 

I'd never been more excited in my life. I open my mouth as wide as I could, sucking as much of your cunt as would fit as I swirled my tongue around your clit. Right away you began to cum again, gushers of pussy juice bathing my face, and I began to spurt over and over into your mouth as you cried out in pleasure.

What, that's not how you remember it?



Sweaty Palm



For all you Literotica PalmOS PDA users out there who want to take their favorite stories with them on extended trips, puruse while idling in the waiting room, or liven up a boring bus or train ride to work, here's how:

Step 1. First, you'll need to download a little Palm document conversion program called "MakeDocW". Unfortunately, and for good reason, the folks here at Lit.com won't allow me to post a website that will point you there, however, several links to this compact (and free!) prog can be found online through your favorite search engine or palmware site. 

Step 2. Next, if you don't already have one installed on your PDA, you'll need, naturally, a document reader. I've used another freeware program with great success called 'CSpotRun', which can also be found online. 

Step 3. Once you've installed MakeDocW on your PC and hotsynced your doc reader to your PDA, open MakeDocW and your Windows Notepad accessory program. Minimize them for now before going to the next step.

Step 4. Here's the fun part; visit the Literotica site and select an article for download. As a test, try this one and keep it for future reference. Drag your cursor from the first word of the article and highlight the text all the way to the end. Right click your mouse button and then, click "Copy". Next, maximize your Notepad window, click "Edit" pull-down then "Paste" and 'Voila!', your select text appears. Repeat the process for stories with more than one page.

Step 5. To transfer your new story to your PalmOS device, save the new document to a 'secret' folder or your Desktop. Maximize MakeDocW and load the story using the "Browse" feature and type the name of the story in the box to the right of the "Title" line. Click the "Convert" button and your done. The program will even automatically hotsync the story for you, just check the "Title:", "Compress", and "Auto-Install" boxes.

After your next hotsync -- and I say next because I usually load up several stories at a session (wink) -- open CSpotRun and select a title for your discrete reading pleasure.

I haven't tested this procedure using a MAC or a Windows-based PDA yet, but I'm sure there's a creative LitFan out there who'll cum up with the appropriate instructions. Enjoy.

-Literotically Yours,

Anubiis



Sweaty Palms



In some strange way, it was his profound ugliness that attracted me to him. There was something very raw about this person, who took absolutely no interest in his appearance or social conduct. When I first met him, I couldn't stand him; he was rude and blunt to everyone he spoke to, including, most upsettingly, me. I might not be perfect, but I'd become used to people generally liking me. You don't often need much more that a nice smile and a pair of big titties before men at least warm to you, and I had both of these, so I suppose I was just disgruntled by his rough manner. It wasn't until later that he started to grow on me, as I realised you just have to get used to him and not take him personally.

I never stopped wondering how he got his job at such a nice bar, however. No-one who drank there liked him, I mean, as you can imagine, customer service was not his forte. I guess it's just one of life's little mysteries. 

Anyway, we're closing up one night, everyone else has already gone, and something's different. I meant, it had felt different all evening. He had actually made efforts to speak nicely to me at least three or four times, which far exceeded his previous all time record of once. So there I am, all flattered that he's spoken to me, and I'm starting to notice that if he'd just tidy himself up a bit, and smile once in a while, he'd actually be quite good looking. I think I described him once as having cult appeal.

But of course none of this mattered. He was still just some ugly, miserable guy I hardly knew, who had funny looking teeth, and a jagged scar above his left eyebrow, who often forgot to shave for a few too many days, and sometimes came into work smelling less-than-perfect. And even if he did have a really nice jawline jutting out from under that mop of hair, he was still that odd guy I didn't really like , and I still had a boyfriend I loved.

So there I am, just looking for some wines we needed in the cellar, while he finished sorting out the books upstairs. When I heard him slam the cash register shut and start to come downstairs I just assumed he was coming to tell me he'd finished upstairs and that I needed to hurry up so we could finish and lock up for the night. When he came in, though, he didn't really say anything, he just stood there. I turned to face him and started trying to think of something to say or ask him to kill the silence. It was then that I noticed the bulge at his crotch. He looked awkward, like he had too much to say and didn't know where to start. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, and back again. We were both sweating.

I began to tingle and throb. My stomach tightened. It was useless trying to tell myself it was fear or anxiety causing my body to behave as it was.

In my head, I was making some evasive little joke, then stepping around him and heading back upstairs. In the real world I was starting to pull my skirt up a little, and, saying nothing, backing further into the room. He followed a step, letting the heavy door slam behind him. The air in the tiny room was hot and musty, and I could feel ancient dust and dirt clinging to my moist skin. Taking another step back, I hit the oak table, and without thinking, slid back so that I was sat on top of it with my legs parted. 

Straight away he was between my legs, pushing my skirt up around my waist, and pulling my panties down. It felt disgusting. He was completely unattractive. I fixed my eyes for a moment on the sweat patches under his armpits, whilst silently hoping he didn't kiss me, because I'd noticed earlier that day that he had bad breath. And yet here I was spreading my legs for him, watching him discard my drenched panties with clammy, dirty hands.

It was about this point that I realised what I liked about him. It was his complete lack of self consciousness, and how it was rubbing off on me. This grubby looking man, with his lack of social skills, and neglect for personal hygiene, didn't care how he or I looked. He didn't care that my thighs weren't as firm as they could be, or that I was sweating so much that I probably smelled as much as he did. He didn't want to worship me, he just wanted to fuck me.

Anyway, while I'm there having my little epiphanies about the complex nature of our relationship, he's now freed his throbbing cock, and I just glance long enough to spot it's mediocre size, and wonder how clean it is, before he's pushing it inside me. I almost came just from that, just from how horny I had become, but somehow didn't. He stopped for a moment, embedded in my pussy, and shoved me a bit further onto the table, before starting to move in and out.

We weren't having sex, we were mating. As I was sprawled on the unlucky table, gasping with pleasure and pain as he pushed deeper and deeper, he just kept pounding slowly into me, grunting like an animal. There was very little eye contact, just slippery friction and unpleasant noises.

As his mechanical thrusting sped up, I squirmed beneath him, trying to get as much clitoral contact as possible, and increase the frequency of times he managed to hit my g-spot. He was pounding into me like a pneumatic drill now, grunting with each movement, his expression almost pained with concentration. I felt his body stiffen with one last thrust as he came, heaving his whole body forward and pausing there, basking. I came just after him, not amazingly, but enough. He let his body sink and cover mine, and we lay there, still connected for a little while, just panting.

Finally he slid out, took a step back, and began pulling up his pants. I also stood and started to gather myself.

The rest of the evening passed without incident. We chatted, although not about the fact we'd just fucked, finished everything up and went home.

I only worked there another month before quitting when something better came along. I never bothered to keep in touch with him. I suppose it's not a very exciting tale. Just two people fucking. But that's what I like about it.



Sweaty Shoe Fun at the Gym



John walked quietly into the main room of the college gym; taking a look at the clock and letting out a quiet sigh. It was seven already. He knew that he only had two hours to get his workout done before he would have to go back to his dorm room to prepare for his morning class.

"Hey Jenny," said john in gentle voice "just thought I'd drop by for a quick workout before bed."

Jenny giggled from behind the counter, handing him a small sweat towel as was the norm for the campus gym. Jenny is a full time student at the University and works evenings to help pay tuition so she can live on campus. John smiled and took and the small towel from Jenny's hand while he looked her over. She stood about five feet and eight inches tall with a slender build and beautiful long blonde hair. 

John had always thought Jenny was very cute, but had given up on seducing her nearly a year ago after realizing how prude she really was after looking past those tight shorts and skimpy tops. Admittedly, Jenny was one of the few things that kept John coming to the gym every day after his pm classes. John walked past the counter and opened the gym doors behind him, taking a moment to look back through the windows at Jenny.

Tonight she was wearing a pair of very thin pink shorts which couldn't have extended more than sex inches down her leg. Her hair was tied back in a pony tail tied with a baby blue hair tie which matched her tank top in color. Jenny's C-cup breasts pressed firmly against her tank top and bounced slightly with every step she made. John paid particular attention to Jenny's long legs, leading into petite size 6 feet wrapped tightly in a pair of pink ankle socks and tied carefully into her favorite pair of pink Nike Shox sneakers.

John loved looking at Jenny during his work outs. He couldn't help but get aroused by her sweaty body; letting his eyes wander down her legs until they fixated on her shoes. He couldn't help but imagine how sweaty her shoes must be since she runs in the same pair every day. John felt his penis growing erect, tenting his shorts as he turned away from the doors and approached his usually treadmill.

John hated running, but loved seeing countless girls running in their gym shoes. It excited him and drove him crazy. John's girlfriend in high school used to tease him with her sweaty socks and shoes and he had loved the smell ever since. Sometimes, he would sneak a smell of a girl's sneakers during his workout since the stretching mats were socks-only and girls nearly always felt the need to touch their toes before leaving.

"Hey John," said Jenny's voice from behind. John jumped slightly in surprise. 

"Do you mind if I join you for a bit?" she asked.

"Of course not, you know that" said John with a smile as he turned his head to steal a look at her.

Jenny must have slipped through the main doors while he was thinking about her long sexy toes. This was, after all the only reason why he insisted on going to the gym so late at night. Jenny's head turned towards his, and in a panic, he looked away taking notice of how empty the facility was.

"Wow it's a slow night" said John in a matter-of-fact tone

"Yeah, but it wasn't like this all day... trust me" laughed Jenny. "I've been on my feet all day long and they're so sore."

John could feel his penis twinge to life beneath his pants as he quickly lowered the pace of his machine so he could hide his growing bulge. John turned his head back and watched Jenny running beside him for several more minutes before she stepped off her treadmill, turning to smile at him.

"I think I'm done for the night John. I'm going to go lie down in the back for a little if you don't mind. If I fall asleep, make sure you wake me before you leave please."

"Of course Jenny" replied John with a wink.

Jenny made her way to the padded mats, carefully untying her shoes and removing them along with her pink ankle socks and laying them at the mat's edge. She made her way barefoot towards the center of the mat where she began stretching her legs. John always loved seeing her take stretch because she was one of few girls that cared enough to go barefoot. John's penis was swelling to full size as he stared at her sweaty socks inside her erotic size 6 sneakers, but he didn't have the energy nor the motivation to restrain himself. Not long after, John lost interest and focused himself on finishing his run.

Jenny finished her stretching and got up, walking across the mat into the employee's room. John turned his attention to that side of the room as he heard the heavy door close behind her. Without his eye candy, John decided to finish up for the night as he dismounted his machine and walked over to the mat for a little stretching of his own. 

John's heart leapt in his chest as he approached the mat, noticing that Jenny had left her shoes out with her sweaty socks still inside when she went to lay down. John's penis was rock hard with anticipation now, as he sat on the ground in front of Jenny's sneakers. John extended his arm, taking the ankle socks out of Jenny's Shox and smiling as he noticed how discolored the soles were from being worn. He lifted the socks to his face, inhaling deeply and smelling the wonderful aroma of Jenny's sweat and perfume permanently soaked into the think sock. John's cock was rock hard and throbbing from the smell of fresh sweat, begging for John to pleasure himself.

John grabs the left shoe sitting in front of him and unzips his pants allowing his penis to stand fully erect awaiting the feel of soft cloth of Jenny's shoe. John's penis twitched violently as his head presses against the damp sole of the sneaker, spraying a small stream of precum into the arch of the shoe. He began smelling the inside of Jenny's sweaty sneaker, noticing how much stronger the odor of sweat was compared to her sock, allowing his penis to twinge in excitement.

John began stroking his penis against the damp sole of Jenny's sweaty shoe, as he continued to inhale deeply; dripping precum from the tip of his penis with every stroke. Within minutes of stroking against the sweaty soles, John found himself inches from a powerful orgasm. As his head swelled and turned a deep shade of purple he forced his penis deeper into Jenny's sweaty sneakers; finding that his long penis could easily fill the small size 6s. John moaned gently as he enjoyed the feeling of his head pressing against the toe of the petite shoe he was violating. 

John could feel warm cum beginning to fill his penis, rushing to his head as he tried to pull out of Jenny's shoe to cum inside the sweaty socks. Within seconds he was erupting with incredible force, exploding and sending thick long ropes of sticky cum deep inside Jenny's favorite gym shoes. John smiled in ecstasy as his penis continued to spasm hard. The sound of his thick ropes of cum slamming against the toe of Jenny's shoe seemed to echo throughout the room. 

Four streams of cum spurted from John's head and began soaking into the sole of the sweaty, stinky gym shoe. Three more hard shots flowed deep into the shoe and began forming large pools of thick white fluid in the heel. John moaned submissively as his penis continued to squirm sending several more squirts of thick sticky cum into Jenny's shoe. John's penis began to soften from exhaustion and came to rest in a deep pool of cum seeping into the heel of Jenny's stinky gym shoe. 

John was overcome with a twinge of panic and passion as he realized what he had just done. He took another moment to admire his cum as he noticed the dark spots on the mesh of Jenny's sneaker where his thick ropes had shot during his orgasm. John tipped the sneaker forward and back, admiring the amount of cum still sloshing around inside the absorbent shoe. He knew he had to dump the pooling cum into the trash.

John's heart leapt again as he heard the door unlatch and begin to open. He hastily set the sneaker down at the edge of the mat and sprawled out across the mat in an attempt to look busy as Jenny walked towards him. 

"Well, it's nine John; time to head back to the dorm." Jenny said with a smile as she bit her lip gently.

"Oh is it that time already?" replied John a little too quickly

"Yep, let me walk you out" Jenny whispered in his ear as she walked by.

Jenny walked over to the edge of the mat, pausing before sitting down and slowly picking up her socks. John turned slightly pale as he realized Jenny had left her socks inside her shoes earlier, and breathed a sigh of relief as she picked them up and began pulling them over her long toes. John felt his penis twinge again as Jenny reached for her shoes.

Jenny lifted up the tongue of her shoes lovingly as she elegantly slid her first foot in. John held his breath............ nothing; it had been the dry shoe. Then Jenny pushed on her second sneaker followed by a sharp moan as her socked foot dipped into the sticky cum soaking into her gym shoe. Jenny forced her foot all the way into her shoe almost whimpering as the thick cum squeezes between her toes.

"W-whoa.... My shoes got really sweaty during that run" Jenny said in an embarrassed tone. "I can't believe I left them out here for you to see. I hope you get too close they really stink and I'd hate for you to be distracted during your stretching."

"Oh, um... I didn't even notice," said John a little too fast again. 

Jenny blushed and kept her eyes down as they walked out. John's attention was fixed on her left shoe which now had thick white fluid being pressed through the mesh on both sides. When the two exited the gym Jenny turned to lock the door and gave John a quick hug before hurrying off towards her dorm. John's swollen penis gently pressed against Jenny's leg during the embrace leaving him with a smile on his face as he walked to his room fantasizing about Jenny's reaction to all the "sweat" she'd find when she took off her gym shoe.



Sweaty Shoe Fun at the Gym



The bottle hit the floor. The thick brown glass bottom gave an especially dark and heavy thud. I love that sound. It's the sound of familiarity, of being home, of not being shot at. The empty bottle spun in a circle as if to taunt me to play a game of truth or dare with myself. The TV had suddenly switched from late night re-runs of Columbo to a morning talk show. I had been happily playing a game. If Columbo gave that horrible grin, I could either punch out the screen or drink another drink. Judging from the morning talk show still running, I must have consistently chosen the later.

It was time to get my exercise in. So, I pulled myself off the couch. I straightened out my tie. One shoe was at the front door. The other was in the bathroom. My jacket was for inexplicable reasons wet and in the shower. I shook out the worst of it and put it on. Depending on which latitude I had woken up, it would either get wet again or dry quickly. If I were still in Alaska, I would be shit out of luck. Though, the bright light trying to pry its way in past the curtains suggested I wasn't there.

One last thing, I had to burn that sad photograph. The tombstone of my wife and daughter with the police officers standing at attention. Why did I have to print that out every night, only to torture myself? The flames welled up from the kitchen sink. The print yellowed and crumbled into a black line of ashes. I popped two Tylenols. The whisky was working. I didn't remember why I was hurting. Gotta love America!

Ready for the outside, I stepped into the hallway with the broken lighting. There was no bother in locking the door in this part of town. An old Asian lady was talking to me. "Listen, no comprendo. I don't speak your language." She might have been the landlady. It was hard to tell these things. I stepped down the flight of stairs trying not to fall over the trash and discarded children toys. A hooker in mini-skirt, patent leather boots, and pantyhose with a giant run the size of Mississippi offered me a cigarette. She might have been the neighbor's daughter returning from a rave party. It was hard to tell these things.

Ah, finally sunlight, even a rotten corpse enjoys a few rays of sun. Judging from the Asian writing on the signs, I was in Korea town, the cheapest place to live in Los Angeles. A garbage bag got kicked up by a passing car on the two lane road Garfield. A Laundromat was advertising a special with a bright yellow sign. When you are holding out for a special from the Laundromat to clean your clothes, you have to be a real mess. Those were my compadres.

I turned into the side alley and walked through the door underneath the bright red bobble head rooster. The rooster was meant for good luck. It was ironic that it would drag in such an out of luck rent-a-cop like me. The place was dark and deserted, except for the strung out lady on the far side of the bar. She was wearing a golden dress. Her body had shriveled that much that I could see through the sides of her dress. The dress was hanging that loosely. She was drawing through a golden ten inch cigarette holder. Every good damn fool believes herself to be a Hollywood star in this town.

"Whiskey, straight up. I don't do no fucking cocktails. I'll bust your teeth out if you try to poor me that shit again."

"You go easy. Today, you gonna pay."

I placed my credit card on the counter.

"How many times, I tell you? Your card no good. Bank call to say, I should cut it with scissors."

A burly shadow was moving outside of the milky window. Dorothy poured me another drink. I assumed neither she nor the gang outside wanted to deal with a belligerent American. While it is called Korea Town, most of the Koreans have left. A new wave of poorer and more desperate Mexicans has run over the neighborhood. Even the gangs were going through a changing of guard. A thug with a gun could probably get even this destitute place to cough up a thousand dollars per week.

"You are a darling, Dorothy."

"But tomorrow, you pay with money!"

I took it day by day. Either I'd die of alcohol poisoning by tomorrow or my past would catch up with me and put a bullet through my skull. Thinking of it. And I had a long time to think, while nursing my amber colored drink, they'd probably riddle my body with bullets, spit in the holes, and possibly even piss on it if they were in a vile enough mood. I sure deserved it.

My focus on the colors of the green Beefeater bottle and red rooster right next to the crucified Jesus was broken by the ring-ding of the door. A dude with black sun glasses and leather jacket stepped in. The shoes were polished, shiny, and refined. He belonged into a bar with fast girls, discrete waiters, and plush cushions. I hunched over my drink deeper. God damn it. That didn't help.

"Hey, I've been looking for you in at least three cities."

"Who might that be?" I was staring down the glass. It had been empty so long that even the last drop had dried out.

"Hey, it's Pedro, man. Don't you remember me from the academy?" He had his hand already on my shoulder like we were old pals or something. His leather jacket smelled clean. I had forgotten what clean smelled like. He was rich. The gold ring, the gold chain, it was all crafted exquisitely and delicately. Sure as I piss in an arc, he wasn't a cop.

"Yeah, no, I have no clue. Listen, I don't know anybody in this city. And I hope it stays that way."

"Hey, let me buy you a drink for old time's sake." He had the cheery behavior or a rooster. If the rooster on top of the bar had ever been that cheery, I'd have taken the hatched to his neck a long time ago.

"Sure, sit down."

"Hey mister, you only buy one drink? He owes at least 50. You go pay that?"

"Sure." Pedro got a golden money clip out with at least thirty Benjamins. He counted down a few of them. Ol' Dorothy got all shaky seeing the money.

"I take it, you'll be giving me company for the rest of the afternoon. You know you shouldn't flash that kind of money in this part of town." Fuck it, my shrink had told me that I needed to get out of the house and socialize. I had thought the occasional stares by the burned out Hollywood star in her six inch stilettoes were enough socializing. I didn't want to encourage her to start prospecting for quick fuck in the bathroom for a pack of cigarettes. Perhaps, I was ready for the next level. Damn my luck, she saw the money and was working her way over here. She was trying to be non-obvious in a bar with four people walking the entire length of the bar. What do they say: Two's company. Three's a party.

"I'm strapped my boy. I was the best shot in the academy. Take down a penny at 50 yards from the hip!" He opened his leather jacket to show his piece in the underarm holster. It was bedazzled with purple rhinestone.

"Good damn cock sucker, what d'ya do that for?"

He padded me on the shoulder with a big warm laugh that only a South American could have after an insult: "Ma boy, ma boy. So, what name do you go by these days?"

"Jack. Jack Daniels." I had made it a habit of looking at the nearest liquor bottle, whenever I needed a name. The only thing I hated about it was when a dud of an idiot realized that it was a drink. "The last guy that had said, my name Patron was just like the Tequila had gotten a bullet through his thigh." Don't worry, I wasn't armed. Customs had taken away my piece.

"Hey guys, Lucy here. You guys are such gentlemen. Lucy would like a drink, too." After days of drinking together, I had finally learned her name: Lucy. It sounded just like one of these annoying, little dogs. Her face was all shriveled up. Who was I to judge? I wasn't a beauty king either.

"Here's a chair for you. Pedro is feeling generous today."

Pedro threw another Benjamin on the counter. "Listen Jack, we gotta talk business for a second. I've hunted you down, because I have this job that is perfect for you. It's private security. It's really easy going. There is no threat level. They just want a hero to make them feel special. I told the customers stories about your assignments. He nearly peed his pants. It's plenty of drinks and hot chicks. All you gotta do is hang around and look tough. It's a Japanese business man, who is in town and had heard about Angeles street gangs. C'mon, you and me again?"

"Look Pedro, you are apparently not current on the legends swirling around about me. The last time, I tried to protect a woman, she died. I'm a fuck up. Why don't you just let me die in this bar of liver disease?"

"Hey party people, why don't you throw a few coins into the juke box. I feel like dancing." Lucy was getting on my nerves. I needed to manage my anger, the shrink had said. Pressing the mute button on her face seemed like a good anger management strategy. Though, Pedro had come all this way, I might as well put on my Sunday behavior and let her squeak a little longer.

The door bust open. The shadows waiting outside for days had finally decided to come in. When it rains it pours. And my luck had decidedly run out. Four Mexican gangsters with bandanas over their faces stormed in. They had both hands on a gun. They were jumping real agitated. I hate that. Either shoot or chill out. I reached over the counter to poor me another drink, while the going was good.

Dorothy was yammering about already paying a Korean gang protection money. Apparently, the Korean gang hadn't been around anymore, which made the payment schedule slide favorably for Dorothy. So, Dorothy wasn't really hot on changing service providers. The guns waving around the bar and the cursing was starting to convince her to reconsider.

Pedro looked calmly at me like when a fool starts yelling at a movie theater. Just wait for a couple minutes. It's not worth it to tangle with a tool. It'll be over soon.

"You are going to blow me in the bathroom, while Dorothy gets her money counted." The leader of the Mexican gang pulled Lucy by her bleach bond hair with extension. Apparently, Lucy was used to this treatment. She must have been a street hooker.

For me, I didn't appreciate women being mistreated around me. I decked him straight in the face. He collapsed right down and stayed down. Blood was running peacefully out of his nose and down his cheeks. I always found a strange beauty and peace in that shiny bright color.

Time sped up. Lucy clung to my knees having had someone stand up for her in the first time. Dorothy through me the gun from under the bar. Pedro got his piece out. It had a green laser mounted on the nozzle. What a wimp! Dorothy's piece was a short barrel revolver.

The first guy raised his gun and shot in my general direction. That was the signal that I had been waiting for to use lethal force. The training was still hardwired in my head. I went through the Mozambique drill: aim at the chest, tap twice, aim at the head, and tap once. I moved on to the next gang banger. When I was done with all of them, the bullet explosions were ringing in my ear. There was that familiar moment, where for a second everything seems like frozen in time, before the bodies fall to the ground.

Only these bodies didn't fall through the ground. They clearly believed from my trained motions that they were shot. However, they couldn't find any holes, neither could I. So, I had to go to plan B, which involved jumping over the counter and ducking. Sure enough, a hail of bullets send glass shards from the bottles above me flying in all directions. Fuck, I should have told them if they didn't harm any bottles, they could do whatever the fuck they pleased. I always had to be the damn chivalrous knight.

Those bimbo gang bangers could have simply walked up to the counter and shot me from two feet distance. Instead, they had riddled the bar with what sounded like 40 bullets and were going strong. I hate that fucking Machismo about Mexican criminals. Being the dumb gringo, I was stuffing bar towels into full bottles of booze. There were four of them. One was already down. I'd nick name the others Vodka, Tequila, and Mike's Hard Lemonade after the bottles that I was going to toss them. I sure hoped that Mike was hard enough to burn. You never know with that marketing buzz piss shit these days.

So, I torched the bar towels, got up, and threw the bottles on one each. The flames burst wide open. The booze soaked their clothing. Bright orange flames were licking out of their chests like a hundred tongues. The bar hadn't been that lit up since it was built. I never realized how filthy and broken the place was. The walls weren't even black. It simply had been that dark to make them appear black.

Being the genius I was, the Mexican gang was burning at the entrance. The bar stools were already catching on fire. The fire was going to chase through the bar quickly. So, I grabbed Lucy and Dorothy by their upper arms and pulled the screaming women to the back of the bar. I kicked in the door to the women's bathroom. There was a small window. Don't ask me how I know these things.

I shoved Lucy through the window. I saw her butt crack. She wasn't wearing anything under her golden dress. It was the worst moment of the day. I needed more pain killers. Dorothy was a little harder. She didn't fit through the window. Though with enough pushing her body shape finally conformed to the small rectangle. I had to find the little medical box. There were more pain killers. Pedro pulled me out of the window. I was mad at him. Though, I would have probably burned alive before I would have found the pain killers. I wouldn't have minded the burning alive part. I would have minded not finding the pain killers in time.

We were sitting outside on the curb. The fire department did a fabulous job dousing the building with five giant streams of water. I always had wanted to play with water on that a grandiose scale. When I picked between police officer and fire worker, I should have picked the latter. I might have ended up in a white picket fence house in the suburbs with a dog, toddler, and wife. Well, I actually had had those things, except for that the job had killed them quite literally tied down in a basement.

"Jack, why not start over. This assignment could be a fresh start."

He had a point. Dorothy was already blabbing to the police. It was some South Korean new grad kid that still eagerly scribbled on a paper pad. Once the kid would run my ID, all kinds of alarms would start ringing. They'd insist on taking me into protective custody. I'd either die at night from a goon slipping in with a syringe or a firing squad razing the entire safe house. It all depended on how urgently, they wanted to close the book on me and who got there first.

"The cop's looked over here for the second time. We should get moving."

--------------------------------------------

The party was loud. It was that electronic kind of music that drove the kids wild. The mix of twenty somethings was dancing. The thirty and up crowd was trying to look smart in expensive gowns and tuxedos. There was something about Japanese people, where they were always trying to look hip. At least my eyes couldn't complain about the skinny girls in knee high boots, thin thighs, and tiny skirts. Their funny animals hats was something that came with the territory.

From what I could tell the conversations started with Kon'nichiwa. Next one would lean slightly forward and make the curious attentive face of a butler. While silently listening to the other person, they make these "uh-uh" sounds. The trick was to draw out the vowel to make a long roaring sound like a buck during mating season. After five minutes, they'd move on to the next person and repeat. With each interaction, they'd get some kind of social currency that they hoped to cash in at the end of the night.

Mr. Kanagawa was my assignment. He was the host of the party. He wore a red tie to stand out among the exquisitely tailored suits. He didn't even bother with the Kon'nichiwa. He silently grinned and bowed to people like their presence were the biggest honor right up with meeting the Dalai Lama in person in a fucking cave on the top of the mother fucking Himalayas. It was his penthouse apartment at the top of the thirty story residential building in Westwood. The view was stunning from the ocean across the whole urban sprawl to the sky scrapers of downtown.

"So, who are these people?" I asked Pedro leaning at the bar. I poured myself another drink. The waitress, this cute, young Japanese thing with bushy pig tails of that shiny black hair that Japanese have, she was getting personally offended each time, I poured my own drink. She battled me again for the bottle. I had to pry her soft hands away from it. It was her duty to pour drinks. Me pouring drinks made her a bad hostess. However, I couldn't trust her. In her zeal, she constantly tried to upsell me to fancy cocktails.

"Mr Kanagawa is trying to produce his first movie. He made a lot of money manufacturing car parts in Japan. Now, he's having his midlife crises and wants to become an artist. So, he's schmoozing with all these people to make connections. Sozu is his personal assistant. That's the girl bossing around the whole staff to make everything perfect. She got all of these people to come out."

"(Continued) I'd bang that tart. I'm sure she had to blow a few of those old, rich cock suckers to come out here. And the young eye candy around here, she teaches them how to leach all the money out of sugar daddies. That's the core of her entourage. And those people pull in their own entourage of people that are genuinely interested in the movie business or just want to know what it's like to party of the thirties floor. That chick over there is from Kansas. They got her out on a modelling scouting trip. Would you believe it? She is all that dolled up, because she believes that she could get discovered."

Me and my whisky were going to be good buddies tonight. There was something breathtakingly kinky about watching young woman making girlish giggles behind their flat hands like little girls. I was sporting a raging boner and unleashed all of my energy into chewing a tooth pick open mouthed. Perhaps, I should have shaved. The salt-and-pepper quarter inch beard made me look like a savage in an Armani suit. Pedro had insisted on having it tailored.

The gun holster was a little too high. The butt of my Colt Mustang was rubbing my left arm pit the wrong way. I had to push my way across the dance floor. The kaleidoscopic DJ lighting, swaying bodies, and alcohol in my system were a horrible combination. The long hair of a girl was pushing into my face. The girl bounced a way. Another girl with candy colored top had a flat tummy revealed. The skin was so matte. The navel button caught my eye. Her hands caught my hand. She was bouncing up and down, squeaking "dance, dance old teddy bear" in that squeaky, girlish, cheery voice that some Japanese women have. Her lanky boyfriend put his arms around me. "Yeah, you're a cool guy. Dance with us." He was wearing track pants. He had a really flashy way about him.

"Listen, I need to go to the bathroom."

I pushed my way on through the craziness. That's why the older people stayed out on the balcony, where there were plenty of chairs in the way of dancing. A female hand grabbed my butt and squeezed it between the thumb and index finger. "Yeah, just go ahead. It's a free for all."

Another perky B-cup boob bounced into my chest from an out of control drunk girl made wild by the beat of the DJ. Finally, I closed the bathroom door behind me. The door was near sound proof. The bathtub seated five people with a stunning floor-to-ceiling and wall-to-wall window. The white towels were thick and soft, as well as stacked high to have plenty for each guest. I crushed a pain killer bill under my whisky glass for a faster hit.




Sweaty Shoe Fun at the Gym



Two bangs of an HK416 interrupted me, before I could wipe the white pill dust into my palms. The muffled party sounds had gone still. When for once life was going to turn for the better with a little help of white powder, bad guys had come knocking. Quiet assignment my ass. I looked in the mirror. Two tired bagged eyes looked back it me. They were blood red shot from the abuse that I put my body through. My hair shaggy and styled into a mess with gel. Was this the hero that was going to save the people outside or to drag them down into hell with him?

I slowly pulled the door ajar. Five goons with HK416 assault rivals were standing in the center of the room. They had the same bandanas wrapped over their mouth that the guys from the bar had. Everyone was flat on the ground. This one 25 year old girl was wearing white-and-pink bunny ears. They were the only thing that stood higher than a foot. She had her hands curled up right under her face to make her fingers appear like bunny teeth. These lunatic Japanese couldn't stop appearing cute even when they were deathly afraid.

So, the guy with the black bandana was clearly in charge. He was yelling the loudest. Mr Kanagawa was pleading with him. The black bandana guy quickly pistol whipped him to the ground. Suzu was running out of the room with her hands dialing on the phone. She did these cutesy little mini steps that made her seem like she was running like Road Runner from Bugs Bunny, yet she was moving at the speed of Goofy. One of the goons ran after her down the hallway. These fools were going to get themselves killed quickly.

I was going to save at least one of these party girls. Reaching bag, I grabbed one of those fluffy, white oversized full body towels. A girl with tight black leather pants that were so shiny that they seemed wet and liquid was lying the closest to the bathroom. I threw the white towel low to wrap it around her ankle. Then, I pulled her slowly and steadily toward me. Her face looked panicked. She didn't make a sound. Somehow she thought by looking around wilder into many directions, it would help her situation.

Once I got her, she kind of realized. I told her to hide in the tub. The metal would block stray bullets. She docilely agreed. She looked at me like a puppy with black wet hair from behind the tub. Only her eyes peaked over the rim. She had these full black pupils. She must have been wearing those trendy contacts that give you anime eyes.

I had to make a decision. I could have been banging that party girl. I could envision putting her right over the rim of the tub, so that her ass would stick up and bang her from behind. I'd probably finish the job before a bullet would hit the back of my head. I could keep fishing people out of the room. Though, the tub would get seriously overcrowded. Or, I could go for plan C, which I didn't know yet. Pedro was probably banging one of the sexy chicks in one of the bed rooms. He had a thing for the long legged once with the big fake, round tits.

The gang banger minions were pushing an elder gentleman in a suit forward. The head honcho was pulling down the top of a young dancer with a t-shirt and tiny white fur jacket. Nodding at the boobs, he stated, "We'll take her as a bonus for entertainment." Now, he shouldn't have done that. He had me glowing with red hot anger. I slung out of the bathroom entry way to hide behind a couch with my Colt Mustang drawn.

"Tell the Gringo to meet us at the bar, if he wants to free these innocent people," said the guy with the black mask to the whole room, while he stuffed a red bandana into the girl's mouth. The party was all Japanese, except for one gringo and one South American.

The tall lad from the dance floor jumped up and charged toward the gang bangers: "Charge!" Five yard from the gang bangers, he realized that nobody else was charging. "We need to surge against them. We are one hundred against five." The black masked guy tilted his head sideways to patiently wait out the desperate battle cry. Then, he smashed the bottle of whisky on the bar counter into the lads head. The lad sunk to the floor. That was my bottle. He had the second strike against him. I was near blasting him full of bullets without letting the other hommies have any.

I crawled behind a big palm tree planter. A twenty something girl gave me a pleading look that broke my heart. "I'm a professional. Don't worry." Who was I kidding? I was the drunk with a gun, who had utterly failed in laying a perimeter and scouting the incoming traffic. I couldn't let another of my charges die.

"Give me your high heels and your bra."

"Nani!?"

The poor girl was quizzical. I pointed her feet and her chest. I loved watching those stubby toes on her feet. Her fingers first poked from the inside through her t-shirt. Then, her nipples stood out through her t-shirt. It was a nice underwire a-cup that still gave her a nice round appearance. I tied the shoes to either side of the bra. I had seen on the Australian Discover Channel that Aborigines would make bolas weapons. With the dance civilian presence, I couldn't afford an all-out gun fight.

I pointed at the next girl over: "More." That girl reached under her mini skirt and pulled down her panties. They were these cute Hello Kitty g-strings. I had to take a moment to deal with all the erotic feeling bubbling up in me. "No, your bra."

She shook her head, "No bra."

I must have made a grimace. She lifted up her star sparkled white t-shirts to bare her boobs. They were tender, young, succulent things. "I need a bra."

"I don't need a bra. My tits are so firm that they stand up on their own."

"Does anybody have a bra?"

"I have one in the car. Do you want me to go get it?"

"Yeah, sweetheart, why don't you ask the nice gangster, if they let you out early?"

"Mister, mister, can I leave early?" She raised her index finger like a school girl into the air and stood up. She gave me a nice look at her butt cheeks popping out beneath the Native American style mini skirt.

All the shiny muzzles swiveled around in her direction. I rose up from behind the palm tree jumping forward. One shot hit the guy with the blue bandana. The bra and high heel bolas was thrown out wide with my non-dominant arm. It flung across the air, wrapped itself around the ankles of the yellow bandana due. And the he lost his balance and fell flat on his face. Gravity pulled me down. I landed crashing on the floor behind a couch. My bones were hurting. I was missing that white powder left behind on the bathroom sink. The white couch was fluffing up with feathers shooting into the air as a bout a pound of lead was unleashed with ear drum blasting explosions from the H416s.

After ten seconds there was silence. They all needed to reload. "Oops-y, my bad," said the standing girl shrugging her shoulders up and blushing. I looked at her dumbfounded as her long slender limbs folded themselves to lie back down on her belly. "I'll get my bra later," she said reassuringly to me in a hushed voice.

I popped up from behind the couch and jumped over the bar. Mid-air, I leaned sideways, and popped one more bad guy in the knee. He went down with a wide open mouth and spit flying from it. My head hit the bar shelf. Bottles went sprawling away from it. My ankle hit the counter hard. I kind of collapsed onto the floor before the next hail of fully automatic gunfire unleashed itself in my direction. At least, I didn't have civilians behind me anymore to minimize casualties.

When the gun fire rang out again ten seconds later, I popped up. The last two standing guys were gun. They had used suppressive fire on me to withdraw back to the entrance door with their hostages. The door snapped shut. I jumped over the counter and ran for the door. By the time, I reached it, they must have jammed the door thoroughly. I ran into the door with my shoulder. It hurt terribly.

Pedro came running with his ass sticking out of the pants. A tall Jap girl with bleach blond hair was running behind him. She was only dressed in a bed sheet.

"What happened, Jack?"

"They took two hostages down the hallway. There are only two of them left. Three of them are lying around here somewhere. The door is jammed."

Pedro flushed red in the face grabbed a fire axe and started pounding a hole through the wall. The pant wasn't locked in place. It slid down. There is always something hilarious about seeing a professional literally with his pants down. The pants pooled around his ankle. His butt stuck in its birthday suit out in the air. And he still had a raging boner. Viagra was both the answer to his erection and his flushed face.

"Rock on, I love method acting," cheered the fake blond. She pumped her fist in the air. Her wrist was bend to make the gesture look rather weak and girlish, despite her face trying to make a tough expression. She got on her knees and sucked his cock, while he was sweating to crack through the wall blow-after-blow with the heavy axe. Welcome to the comedy about the incompetent has-never-been Latino and the drunk has-been gringo.

I ran out to the balcony through the crowd of party goers, who were slowly getting onto their hands and knees. A brisk wind was gushing around my face on the balcony. The ocean fog was rolling in. The tiny sidewalk thirty stories below looked dark and almost wet. Three lanes were going in either direction. Two of these roads intersected. There were about twenty pedestrians waiting on each side of the traffic light. There were numerous green taxicabs driving around. A group of four stormed out of the building faster than anyone else. I lowered my Colt Mustang over the railing. The peered over the gun sights. The front sight seemed as thick as a fat finger in comparison to the tiny humans on the sidewalk. I put the safety back. That train had passed.

"You can stop now. It'll be hard for another two hours. I don't want your jaws to lock up," said Pedro way too loudly inside.

------------------------------------------------

"We have bad news and good news, business partners. The bad news is that innocent people are held hostage. Very terrible! The good news is that we are infamous. So many people want to come to my parties now. You are gold, Mr. Daniels. Some people think that the Yakuza is coming to America. Some people think that we are battling evil forces, perhaps demons or vampires. Do you realized a public relations company wanted to charge me 10 million dollars to reach this kind of notoriety?"

Mr. Kanagawa looked very excited behind his mahogany desk with the golden telephone and his Italian leather slippers. He was stretching out his legs. Pedro and I stood at attention with our hands folded in front of us.

"Mr. Kanagawa, we are trying to get your friends back. Right now, the police have staked out the bar. So, we can't go there. Apparently, they were after Jack, because he had an incident with that gang earlier. Our only play is to use Jack to draw them out. We'll have him be very public, so that they can spot him. Hopefully, they will come after him." Pedro was pleading with his hands as hard as he was pleading with his words.

"That is very exciting. You will have to tweet about it every step of the way. I will have my publicist join you. Maybe, we can weave it all into a documentary."

---------------------------------------------------

I had about enough of their chit-chat. Mr. Kanagawa had a disdain for human life and passion for film. Pedro was trying to educate him about private security work. The most frustrating part was perhaps that Mr. Kanagawa leapt up all the details about sec-ops, yet constantly spun it into his movie and publicity. He didn't get the hint to get out of the way of the professionals. Or, perhaps he should finally hire professionals.

For me, I was standing out in the street. The high rises funneled the air into gusts. The creeping ocean fog was chilling my bones. I still had forgotten that neat pile of white powder in the bathroom. I still had no penny to my person, except for an expired credit card. Payday apparently wasn't on the first day. There were a few pretty bruises forming on the side that I had landed my air jumps on. On the bright side, I was holding a full bottle of vodka in my hand, which I had snagged from the bar.

There was a wide window stretching half the block in front of me. College gals and the occasional dude were running on treadmills behind it. Free entertainment. I counted twenty machines. Then I sauntered over to a trash bin. The black plastic bag had lost its hold onto the rim. A sheet of newspaper was stretched out against the mesh of the bin and pinned in place by the wind. Some liquid had run out, dried, and left a black mark.

And I found one of those white and green Starbucks cups with the mermaid. I poured out the left over coffee from the venti sized cup. Then, I poured my vodka into it. I tried it. The vodka tasted like coffee. I guess, this is what the life of an office worker tastes like, constant doses of coffee. Gyms tend to frown on heavy boozing out in the open. This would do.

I nuzzled through the coffee cup lid, while I asked the receptionist of the gym for a trial membership. Jenny was her name, a real cheery sophomore with blond hair in a ponytail. She had little makeup. She had a pink and purple workout short and Adidas shorts. She wasn't rich or pretentious. She was dressed down to earth like a student living on the cheap and being real proud about the few assets of clothing that she could afford. She was wearing a sports bra. Biology was it that she studied. She had a pet hamster and was afraid of gold fish in public pools. Young bubbly girls are really forward in that way.

Barry Snapple's was my name today. There was a fridge of Snapple's behind Jenny. I didn't quite feel like being called Apple or Peaches all day. Definitely, being called peaches would tick me off. Hey peaches, wanna have a piece of me? 23 Main Street was a street address that worked for most cities. I'd always pick the day of the month as the house number.

"We are closing in an hour. So, you better make it count." Jenny had this fist pumping motion that was supposed to be motivating and get me excited about working out and reaching my fitness goals. I took another zip of coffee flavored vodka. Yeah, I wasn't here to clear my mind. Generally clearing my mind made all the nasty bits raise up. I was here to flood it. The booze and the pain killer were helping. Yet, there was one more thing.

Only a few steps away against the back wall was a treadmill. Is sat down there. I loosened my tie. I put my hands behind me and leaned back against them. In front of me were ten college girls running on the treadmills in the window. I had my pick of asses. There was a tender little girl with a running skirt. It was a joy to see the flap of her skirt bounce up and down -- just never high enough to let me peak under. There was definitely the black girl with the big bootie. I called her Big Ol' Judy in my head. The spandex of her black pants was stretched so wide that I could see the shiny silver of her panties. The line ran straight across her butt. Of course, there was also prime butt. There was Sybille, as I called her. She was pounding away at easily 8 mph. Her ass was so tight with no panty line in sight that I just wanted to pull her pants down to right beneath her ass and take her hard from behind.

It takes a lot of focus to determine panty lines. It's endlessly fascinating to watch one side tighten and then the other side. A little hot red of a thong peaking over a yoga pant is always a thrill. It takes a lot of concentration to catch every little mishap or chance to gleam a little more. The occasional angry stares are really hilarious. This black girl had given me the fifth stare already. Yet, she couldn't be bothered getting off her phone. She had this white-and-black checkered banana and workout gloves. She seemed really hands on and active like a go-getter.

When a tall, all-lean-muscle black guy walked into the gym, they gave each other a glance. The tall guy was wearing sweats. He had a band around his forehead to make him look like a martial arts guy. Behind him was an entourage of six shorter guys with eager and stern faces. The black guy and the black gal exchanged looks. Then, she pointed directly at me.

How was it, that trouble would always find me?

The black guy marched up to me with wide strides. The shorter guys followed him so lock step that they more seemed like a flock of chicks flocking around the mother hen for protection. It put an irresistible grin on my face. That stoked the fire under the black lad.

"Why are you staring at my girlfriend? She doesn't like it."

I raised my arm to calm him down.

"Hey, I don't like the foreign policy of Burkhina Faso."

Now he was pounding his legs around. His lips were flying open. He looked like an anguished tiger ready to pounce.

"Yeah, you think you are a smart ass. I'll kick your ass."

It wasn't worth it talking with the rubble. Trina was doing forward stretches that made me see her camel toes. They were these racer type tights that seemed like different material stitched together. It gave her legs a wonderful shape. I waved Tyson, that's what I called him, to get out of my view.

Tyson was like a caged tiger taunting me and parading left and right in front of me. "Hey, you want a piece of this action? Let's fight in the boxing right over there. Let's fight clean, no biting and hair pulling and shit."

That gave me an idea. "Hey, do you fight for money? I'm broke. I need cash. How much do you have?"

Tyson was a little confused. "Money, moneta, dollaros, bling, cash-cash," I helped him. His little gang huddled together and came up with eighty bucks. "Fair enough, lets' fight." The heated tension had almost become jovial. One of his buddies even stretched open the ropes to the ring to let me enter. "Fight -- whoop, whoop," hollered one of his sidekicks.

Quickly enough, I found myself in the ring wearing a tailored suit that was worth $10K, so that I could win $80 to buy a family pack of Tylenol. I might as well look presentable and tighten my tie back. All the females that I was watching like a piece of meat were now watching me like a piece of meat. The irony wasn't lost on me. Only I had watched them for a little harmless admiration of beauty, while they were eager to watch me get beating into a bloody pulp.

Tyson was apparently a triple black belt in something that sounded Asian. The girls cheered hard for him. His girlfriend even lifted her tight shirt to show of her bra. Lavender purple was a bold choice. Her breasts were pretty small. Being a strong athlete diminishes the body fat. Had I known that I could get the front view, I would have climbed into the ring earlier.

One of the sidekicks took the Starbucks cup out of my hand out of which I was still drinking. It was automatic. I hadn't even realized that I was drinking middle in the ring before the fight. Someone rang the bell. Tyson circled around me with fancy foot work. His feet kept constantly switching. I stood with my legs wide and hands at the side and starred at him. There was definitely pain going to be involved, lots of it.

Tyson circled me. He gave me little fake charges, pretending to go in for punches, yet pull back before he got close enough. I didn't flinch or react. The booze had slowed down my reaction time. "Kick his ass, Jason," yelled his girlfriend. Tyson was apparently Jason. I yelled back in drunk stupor, "No he is Tyson. You picked a name for him first." "He's drunk. Kick his ass already," shouted one of his sidekicks.

"Tall, dark, handsome stranger, go!" yelled Jenny to my surprise. Apparently, she had either something for the underdog or dirty old men. Next a blow landed on my right cheek. A follow up punched into the side of my ribs. A high elbow hit me on the temple. Tyson knew that he was doing. He was young. He was well trained. This was going to hurt a lot.




Sweaty Shoe Fun at the Gym



Tyson looked very puzzled at me. Apparently, he had expected me to go down. I was so drunk, he could have cracked my skull. I wouldn't have felt it. Clean and technical was his domain. I fight dumb and loud. So, I rushed forward. A punch hit my eye. A knee hit my gut. That was the defense shield. I broke through it. I bear hugged him with his arms at his side. Then, I head butted. I head butted him repeatedly over and over. The blood of his broken nose started running down my face. I could taste the sweetness of it. Somewhere around me I sensed the silence of shock. When his body felt limp in my embrace I let him fall to the floor. Three black belts overcome by one bottle of whisky and one bottle of vodka. I needed those painkillers soon.

"You are my hero cheered," Jenny. "He's been beating up my brother since third grade." I pumped a fist for her in the air. Her pony tail whipped through the air from the excitement of her jumping.

"I'm gonna find me a better boyfriend," said Tyson's girlfriend wagging her finger and shaking her ass in the opposite direction. Everyone left him. That was some lesson about the value of true friends.

I felt sorry for the guy on the floor with the blood puddle in front of his face. That had been me often enough, only it was usually in some dark alley and a bad guy would nail me into a shipping container destined for Siberia. So, I picked him up. I wrapped my arm around him and dragged him with me to the treadmill. Jenny high fived me before she went back to her reception desk.

So, we were sitting side by side on the treadmill in front of the back wall. His head was resting on my shoulder. When he lifted it, I offered him my Starbucks. "Hey, I don't feel like coffee." "Trust me, it's not coffee." He took a sip and then a gulp. "You're a cool guy." I padded him on the thigh fondly. "Do you see that bubble butt," I pointed at the Latina with the mini braids and the tight of soft fabric that was rolled over on top. "I call her Juanita." "How do you know that?" "Her butt just feels like that." "Ugh, and that's Trish. That butt just feels so tight. And it's this Asian girl that's always so serious. She is hardcore. Trish sounds hardcore and focused." "Yeah, you got it."

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"Hey Jason, we are closing. You have to leave. Barry, you can stay if you help me stretch." Jenny interrupted our male bonding. The butts on the treadmills had thinned out considerably. We were both starring into the void in drunk stupor.

"Yeah, sure. I don't have anywhere to go. I might as well hang around. Tyson, don't pick fights with strangers. You never know whom you get. One day, you'll get yourself killed that way."

Jenny locked up the front door. She turned off half the lights and gave everything an intimate feel. She let me to the backroom with the mats on the ground. Her gait had the pep of a young cheery person. Her sneakers were badly worn out with cracks at the bent points. Gray sheen covered the white surfaces that probably didn't wash out anymore. She had below the ankle socks that made her appear to be barefoot in her sneakers, if one didn't pay careful attention.

"There is something that draws me in about you. You seem so strong, so manly, so undeviating."

It sure felt good to be buttered up by a college coed that didn't know the devil inside of me.

She kicked of her sneakers and slipped on her back. She stretched one leg up. Her body lay there for my eyes to gaze over her clothing. The shorts and t-shirt were loose. Underneath with a tight fighting sports bra. She was an average type of girl, who watched her weight and worked out regularly. She had blue eyes and a pink mouth.

My hands grabbed her socked heel and pushed back. It felt soft for a few inches. Then the hard resistance came to give her a stretch. The sock felt warm and moist my hand, tender.

"I feel embarrassed about my socks. They must be smelly."

Indeed, there was the intimate aroma of cheese that feet emanated that were locked up all day in a stinky old sneaker. Some good sweating and running was probably thrown in for good measure as well. I pulled in the air a little deeper. And there were aroma points that definitely smelled of young woman. There is a reaction that the strong aroma evokes. One has to always make a strong decision of either repulsion or absolute ravishing desire. I always went with desire.

It was time to switch legs. My now free hand cleared an itch in my face. And the aroma was stronger and more vivid now. Her smell had transferred onto my hand. Her essence and intimacy had spread onto me. I did a double scratch to draw in more of that good scent.

She rolled over on her belly. Lift up my feet. I grabbed her ankles and pulled her up. First her legs lifted and then her hips. I was holding her like one would hold a wheel barrow that is dumped out forward. This gave me a chance to gaze at her firm hamstrings and follow the back strings of her bra. "Higher," she said. Her feet came higher. I could smell them now.

"Let me take my socks off. Perhaps, that's less smelly."

She stuck her fingers under her socks and pulled them off. They rolled into a little ball. She discarded them. She had tasteful pink nail paint. Her toes were delicate and small. Her feet were round in all the right places and soft.

She lay down on her back. She put the soles of her feet together and pulled them closer to her chest. "Push please," she breathed already struggling from the stretch. I grabbed her bare feet, pinned them together, and pushed them down toward her chest. Her butt lifted up. Her face got a very concentrated expression. She was feeling the depth of the stretch and struggling to let it go deeper. The pain stimulation seemed to be right at the threshold of her saying "stop." Yet, he wanted it deeper. So I watched her bare feet folded together like hands for a prayer with her intimate facial expressions displaying all kind of impulses rushing over her face. And I was so up close to her blue iris that her gaze drew me in.

"That's good. I'll go take a shower now."

Jenny got up and disappeared into the women's locker room. The gym was empty. She had left her socks and sneakers behind. I grabbed her worn sneaker. They are so small. Women shoes, young cute women shoes especially, are so small compared to my leather loafers. The print on the inside of her shoe was completely worn and smudged from her sweat.

Taking a sniff directly from her shoes was intense. Imagine the Swiss cheese that comes from the most hidden and remote cabin in the Alps. I had to pause. Like with any good drug, more is always better if you can handle it. So, I dove my nose back in. The smell and the limbic part of my brain that got triggered flooded everything. I had a raging hard-on and a ravishing desire.

Without thought, I lay flat on the ground and dove my nose into one sneaker. The depravity of diving my whole face into it, not only smelling it, but actually touching, really pressing into it, drove me even more nuts. The other sneaker, I placed under my hip. I unzipped by pants to let the raging hard-on out and dive into her sneaker. Her shoe against my hard-on with its veins popping full of blood was tremendous. The head of my penis could feel the surface texture of her inside sole. Just all those moist sweat fumes soaking my dick like a wet sauna soaks the skin was an extreme turn-on.

So, I kept humping one shoe and sniffing the other shoe. Perhaps, I was a little too abandoned. However, the shower was still running hard. The gym was empty. I could safely get carried away a little. The foot stank sent feeling of home, closeness, and nasty/dirty through me. I tried licking her shoe. The licking wasn't as good as the smell.

And then I was on the verge. My penis was pulsing. The tingling was about to reach its crescendo. And I let it happen. The yummy feeling of an orgasm spread through me. My dick was a stick of purse happiness. Spurts of cum shot out of me and cozied with her oh-so intimate sweat soaked old sneaker. White globs of shot out. One blob piled on top of the next. A deep thigh unleashed from the depth of my diaphragm. Alcohol, pain killers, and sex are a wonderful relieve.

The shower stopped. I stopped breathing. I zipped up my pants. I pretended to be stretching. I hadn't done it in years. My body was stiff like a board from all the fractures, scars, stitches, and bruises. Jenny was cheery, when she arrived in the door of the women's locker room. Her hair was wet. She had slipped into tight jeans and a t-shirt.

"Oh, I forgot my shoes here. I'm so sorry. They must have been stinking up the room." She slipped into her shoes barefoot. The right foot squeaked with every step. My cum was oozing through the mesh with each step. And as she lifted her foot, it would ooze back in between her toes.

"Oh dear, my shoes feel so wet. I should really get new ones. It's nasty. Though secretly, I actually enjoy the warm gooey feeling." She snickered and blushed a little. I kept watching my white cum reappear through the mesh and slosh around her feet. I listened to the squeaking that the wetness made on the insole rubbing against her bare smooth skin.

She walked me out and said, "Come by again tomorrow."

(To be continued.)