Read Online Summer Shorts by Huck Pilgrim - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Huck Pilgrim
Tags: Erótica, women's erotica, contemporary erotica, free coupon, literary erotica, voyeur sex, cuckolding, revenge sex, anonymous sex, babysitter sex, blow jobs
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town like Carnal, you learned to accommodate your neighbors’ needs. Molly, Joe’s wife, had been cool about the whole thing. Sometimes women can sense a troublemaker.
Gloria's eyes flutter open.
Shock and fear register on her face. Joe tries to keep his face neutral. He doesn't want to appear too angry. To appear angry would be to get more involved than he already is, and Joe doesn't need that. He also doesn't want Gloria to register the fluttering he’s feeling in his belly right now or the slow lazy roll of his cock as it swells in his pants. He needs to get this boy out of his garage. Get Gloria back home to her aunt. Get his evening back.
Gloria's eyes are wide open now, staring right at Joe.
Her hands move to the boy’s thighs and she tries to rise, to separate herself from the boy, the act she is performing on him. But the boy has other plans. He drops his T-shirt, places both hands on her head, drawing her even closer to himself. He grunts, bucks his hips forward once, then holds her head tight to his groin.
Gloria panics. Joe can see it in her eyes.
She obviously wanted this boy but wasn't expecting that anyone would watch her satisfy him. Now Joe is witness to her slutty behavior.
She looks at Joe one last time, then resigns herself to the situation. She stops trying to rise, lets her weight fall back onto her knees. She lowers her eyelids. Joe watches the muscles in the boy's haunches tighten, even as Gloria allows her shoulders to relax. Joe sees her brows draw together as she focuses on the task at hand. Watching her work the muscles in her throat, Joe hears gentle suckling noises as she uses her mouth to satisfy the boy.
When her eyes flutter open, she looks up first, to gauge the fulfillment of the boy. Her hands rest lightly now on his thighs. Her face is flush.
“Hey—” Joe says.
He keeps his voice low, with just a touch of menace. He wants to scare the boy, but doesn’t want Molly to see any of this, if he can help it.
The boy jerks back, spins his head and shoulders. His eyes meet Joe’s.
“Get the hell out of here,” Joe hisses.
The boy fumbles with his pants. He is a young man, has a wide-eyed look. Maybe twenty or twenty-two. “Sorry,” he mutters. “I'm sorry.” These apologies are addressed to Joe. He says nothing to Gloria.
Joe points to the door that leads outside with his chin. The boy runs off.
Gloria rises. She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand then starts buttoning her shirt. Joe walks past her and watches the boy disappear around the side of the house.
Shutting the door, Joe turns back to Gloria.
Her blouse is buttoned. She looks at her feet, smoothes the fabric of her shirt. Joe tips her chin up with his fingertips. She twists her head away from his touch. Won't look into his eyes.
“Do you want Molly to know?” he asks. He keep his tone even. Gloria may burst into tears and he doesn't want that. “She’ll tell Louise,” he says.
“I don't care,” she says.
“You're wet,” he tells her. Joe offers her the bandanna from his back pocket.
There is something wet just above her sternum, something else sticky in her hair. He use the bandanna to dab at a damp spot on her cheek, averting his eyes from the shallow valley between her breasts.
“Wipe yourself,” he says.
As she takes the kerchief from Joe, her hand trembles, belying her youthful bluster. “You've got some in your hair, too,” he says, trying to sound kind. Helpful.
Molly calls from the other room.
Moving fast to intercept her, Joe says, “Wait in the car.” Gloria is using the mirror over the work bench to clean herself up. She glances at Joe in the mirror. Nods her head.
“I'll get my keys and take you home,” Joe says.
*
Gloria is a sullen lump in the passenger seat. She hasn't said two words since they began the drive to her aunt's house. With her tight
Gloria's eyes flutter open.
Shock and fear register on her face. Joe tries to keep his face neutral. He doesn't want to appear too angry. To appear angry would be to get more involved than he already is, and Joe doesn't need that. He also doesn't want Gloria to register the fluttering he’s feeling in his belly right now or the slow lazy roll of his cock as it swells in his pants. He needs to get this boy out of his garage. Get Gloria back home to her aunt. Get his evening back.
Gloria's eyes are wide open now, staring right at Joe.
Her hands move to the boy’s thighs and she tries to rise, to separate herself from the boy, the act she is performing on him. But the boy has other plans. He drops his T-shirt, places both hands on her head, drawing her even closer to himself. He grunts, bucks his hips forward once, then holds her head tight to his groin.
Gloria panics. Joe can see it in her eyes.
She obviously wanted this boy but wasn't expecting that anyone would watch her satisfy him. Now Joe is witness to her slutty behavior.
She looks at Joe one last time, then resigns herself to the situation. She stops trying to rise, lets her weight fall back onto her knees. She lowers her eyelids. Joe watches the muscles in the boy's haunches tighten, even as Gloria allows her shoulders to relax. Joe sees her brows draw together as she focuses on the task at hand. Watching her work the muscles in her throat, Joe hears gentle suckling noises as she uses her mouth to satisfy the boy.
When her eyes flutter open, she looks up first, to gauge the fulfillment of the boy. Her hands rest lightly now on his thighs. Her face is flush.
“Hey—” Joe says.
He keeps his voice low, with just a touch of menace. He wants to scare the boy, but doesn’t want Molly to see any of this, if he can help it.
The boy jerks back, spins his head and shoulders. His eyes meet Joe’s.
“Get the hell out of here,” Joe hisses.
The boy fumbles with his pants. He is a young man, has a wide-eyed look. Maybe twenty or twenty-two. “Sorry,” he mutters. “I'm sorry.” These apologies are addressed to Joe. He says nothing to Gloria.
Joe points to the door that leads outside with his chin. The boy runs off.
Gloria rises. She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand then starts buttoning her shirt. Joe walks past her and watches the boy disappear around the side of the house.
Shutting the door, Joe turns back to Gloria.
Her blouse is buttoned. She looks at her feet, smoothes the fabric of her shirt. Joe tips her chin up with his fingertips. She twists her head away from his touch. Won't look into his eyes.
“Do you want Molly to know?” he asks. He keep his tone even. Gloria may burst into tears and he doesn't want that. “She’ll tell Louise,” he says.
“I don't care,” she says.
“You're wet,” he tells her. Joe offers her the bandanna from his back pocket.
There is something wet just above her sternum, something else sticky in her hair. He use the bandanna to dab at a damp spot on her cheek, averting his eyes from the shallow valley between her breasts.
“Wipe yourself,” he says.
As she takes the kerchief from Joe, her hand trembles, belying her youthful bluster. “You've got some in your hair, too,” he says, trying to sound kind. Helpful.
Molly calls from the other room.
Moving fast to intercept her, Joe says, “Wait in the car.” Gloria is using the mirror over the work bench to clean herself up. She glances at Joe in the mirror. Nods her head.
“I'll get my keys and take you home,” Joe says.
*
Gloria is a sullen lump in the passenger seat. She hasn't said two words since they began the drive to her aunt's house. With her tight
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