Read Online Eat Me by Linda Jaivin - Free Book Online

minute of it—I could feel his balls begin to tighten. He groaned. Lifting my head off his knob, he unfastened the belt and helped me to my feet. My knees were raw from the pavement and my stockings were in shreds, but I didn’t care.
    Now, he pushed me against the wall, where the stucco strip between the pane glass windows dug into my back. He dropped to his knees, clawed down my undies and my torn pantyhose and, well, he gave as good as he got. I remember having one, oddly lucid thought, and that was of registering that directly above me was a round window exactly where the sheep’s arsehole should have been. I don’t remember much else except that he took me right over the edge, and then immediately did it again, and I could hardly stand by the time he finished.
    He had a cheeky grin on his face as he stood up again, wiping his mouth and chin with the back of his hand, and saying, ‘I love a wet woman.’ He took a condom from his wallet and gave it to me. My hands were shaking, and I could hardly rip the little package open. Then I couldn’t tell which end was up. Don’t you hate that? Trying to roll it down and it won’t go because the teat’s facing in and it’s upside down? Anyway I worked it out. Would you believe, and I’m not exaggerating, his dick was so big that, in fact, I actually couldn’t roll on the condom—he had to show me how to stretch it out with my fingers and pull it on that way. He whirled me around now, so that my back was to him and shoved me up against the wall. I vaguely made a note to interrogate myself thoroughly—at a later, more convenient date—on why I found this rough, dominating sort of sex such a turn-on. It really is a worry, ideologically speaking. Anyway, it was. A turn-on, I mean. Now I was bent over, arse up, head down, hands flattened on the pane-glass to steady myself. ‘The Road to Gundagai’ was playing now, and he entered me in energetic thrusts perfectly timed to the music while gripping my hips with his hands. The sensation of that massive rod sliding in and filling me up was both agonising and exquisite. When he really began to slam it in, I orgasmed again while staring through the glass at rows of stuffed koala bears waving little Australian flags. He came too, with a powerful, animal grunt. We just rested there for a few minutes, his arms now wrapped around my waist, his hot, sweaty, prickly chin resting on the back of my neck. Then we straightened up and got our clothing back in order and headed to our vehicles, arms around each other’s waist.
    I could hardly walk.
    He removed his tool box from my engine, closed the hood, and said, ‘You shouldn’t have any trouble getting that going again now.’ He added that I should have it checked by a mechanic when I got back to Sydney, and said he’d wait and see that I was able to get off okay.
    â€˜By the way,’ he said, in a tone that was almost paternal, ‘I wouldn’t let strange men tie you up like that. That was shocking. Someone could really do you harm, you know.’
    Still a little unsteady on my feet, I thanked him, for everything, including the advice, and got into my car. Everything was purring, including me. I waved goodbye and got on the road. And that was that! We never even asked each other’s names. My leg muscles are still sore, and everything else is tender, and all the clothes I was wearing that day are wrecked (I stopped at another petrol station outside of Mittagong to change) so I know it wasn’t just a hallucination. Besides, I’ve still got the Wide Load condom wrapper (‘maximum head room’) that I picked up from the ground as we left.
    I wonder what Sam would have thought of it. He’ll never find out, of course, but I’d love to know whether he’d be turned on by the idea, or repulsed. Part of me would like him to be turned on, and the other part, maybe the good Catholic