Siren's Garter: Issue One August 2016 Read online

  “No,” she said, head down, and stepped over close to Biggins. “Here, Molly. You can have the black book. It was wrong of me to keep it from you.”

  Molly Biggins wrapped her arms around Mom and brought her in for a bear hug. “Thank you, Gertie. We have to catch up. After the wedding?”

  “I’d like that.” Mom returned the hug, and pecked Biggins on the cheek.

  Kevin leaned over to Elsie’s ear. “Are you crying, too?” he whispered.

  “Oh shut up,” Elsie smacked him on the chest.

  “This is all sappy and shit,” Zack yelled. “But I’m still here!”

  “Darling,” said Biggins. “We have not forgotten you.”

  “Time to go,” said Mom. “Call me, Molly. There’s a perfect tea shop downtown.”

  “I look forward to that,” said Biggins. She reached into the carpetbag, looking at Zack. “As for you, I have a long night planned.”

  “Yawn,” he said. “Just get it over with Sasquatch.”

  Elsie touched Biggins on the elbow. “You have my blessing to punish him any way you see fit.”

  Nikolai set up the tripod in one corner of the room, and gave a thumbs up.

  “Oh we shall punish him,” said Biggins. From the carpetbag, she pulled out an eight-inch strap-on dildo and a bottle of lube. “Russian style.”

  Zack’s eyes nearly popped out of his head, as if he were already being anal fucked. He struggled against the ropes, thrashing, trying to get free. And going nowhere.

  “Elsie!” he yelled. “Els! Please, don’t leave me! I’ll—mmmmph!”

  Nikolai stuck a red ball-gag into Zack’s mouth and tied it behind his head.

  “Much better, thank you Nikolai,” said Biggins. “Hmm. Maybe we’ll publish a red book for our new friend. Da?”

  “Sounds like a bestseller,” Mom said, sharing a giggle with Biggins.

  “Bye asshole,” Elsie patted Zack on the head. Then she hooked her arms in Kevin’s and Brad’s elbows. “Come on, boys. Let’s get out of here before things get nasty.”

  When Mom closed the door behind them, Elsie could still hear Zack yelling through his ball-gag for help.

  And still heard him from down the hall.

  The elevator was thankfully quiet, except for the requisite elevator music. She pecked Brad on the cheek, making him blush.

  And then she took Kevin in her arms and French kissed him.

  Epilogue

  Elsie shut the bridal suite door behind her, and leaned against it, sighing in sweet relief. Her white satin gown crushed against the door, but she didn’t care. All the tension leading up to the wedding just sort of drifting out of her body, leaving her feeling euphoric and full of energy.

  Kevin reached over her shoulder and slid the chain in place. “Mrs. Kincaid,” he said.

  “Hubby,” she said.

  His black tuxedo fit him perfectly. He looked like 007 with his bow-tie undone and collar button open, dashing and roguish, tied up in a neat packaging Elsie couldn’t wait to unwrap. She reached around his waist, inside his jacket, and pulled Kevin closer.

  He cupped her face in both hands and kissed her. His breath tasted of champagne and vanilla frosted wedding cake.

  They had danced until midnight, which seemed to be the time when sleepy Wenakaga closed down for the night. There’d been the requisite speeches, the thank yous, the hugs and shaking hands. Then the guests all wanted to go back to their rooms.

  Good thing, so did Elsie.

  She heard a bed-frame squeaking repeatedly from directly below. In Zack’s room. Hard to say, but she thought she heard muffled moaning as well.

  Kevin shook his head, frowning. He heard it too. “Poor guy. I mean, I hated him. But he’s going to be sore.”

  Elsie tore his tux jacket off. “So will you.”

  The ritual undressing took about thirty seconds. She popped the buttons off his shirt. He broke her dress’s zipper. Then they were down to the underwear. She wore a black strapless bra and matching lace panties. He had on black silk boxers.

  Elsie blinked and they were both naked, rolling around in bed and crinkling the sheets. Kevin rolled on top of her, the tip of his cock pressed to her lower lips.

  “Baby, slow down,” she said. For some stupid reason, her entire body felt wound up tighter than a stubborn wine cork that wouldn’t pop. She was so nervous, her fingers shook. So she pressed them to Kevin’s neck, hoping he wouldn’t notice.

  They’d had sex more times than she could count, including yesterday. How was this any different?

  Kevin kissed her on the forehead, just a light touch with his lips. “You’re right,” he said. “This will be a long night.”

  “Won’t I get my beauty rest?”

  “That can wait for tomorrow.”

  “Good.” Elsie pulled him for another kiss, on the lips. Which he gave her, then he grabbed her wrists and pinned her arms to the bed.

  While he kissed down her neck.

  To her shoulders. Breasts. Each nipple got a sweet kiss, sending ripples of pleasure through her body.

  Kevin kept going lower. Down her stomach.

  At her pelvis, he stopped, a wicked grin stretched across his face. Elsie exhaled, butterflies fluttering in her stomach, skin flushed and warm. She waited for him press his mouth on her sensitive pussy.

  Instead, Kevin kissed and licked her thighs, skipping over her clitoris, barely touching the labia. Teasing with his tongue, back and forth, his moans growing wilder and louder with each passing.

  Elsie grabbed him by the hair and pressed his face into her. He sank his tongue inside, nibbling at her, probing, making her squirm and buck for more.

  He pressed a finger in, and curled his knuckles so he rubbed on her G-spot. Her pussy became wet, slick with both his saliva and her own moisture. Kevin didn’t stop licking and sucking and finger-fucking, even when she wrapped her legs around his head. Not even when she bucked her hips at him.

  The orgasm built little by little, the pressure so intense Elsie knew she’d explode if Kevin didn’t let her come soon.

  She white-knuckle clutched the bedsheets.

  Sweat beaded on her brow, and down her back.

  Her whole body shook and jittered with rapture.

  Slick wet sounds, so satisfying, came from Kevin as he pounded his fingers in her pussy. Faster, quicker motions. Driving her crazy. And then…

  Sweet release. The orgasm rocked her body from head to toes. Even then, Kevin didn’t stop, only slowing slightly, mouth open to catch her squirt.

  He kissed his way back up to her neck.

  “I love you,” said Elsie.

  “Love you, too,” Kevin said.

  He gave her twenty-seven more orgasms before dawn.

  And then they lived happily ever after.

  THE “FUCKING” END

  CREATURES OF HABIT

  1

  The parlor smelled of lavender flavored wax candles. Every table had at least one. Both end tables, as well as the coffee table with one giant candle ten inches in diameter. The curtains were wide open, but the outside was too dark for the afternoon.

  Katie sat, back to me, at the piano. She was barefoot, in running shorts and a sports bra. A water bottle on the carpet, and pages of sheet music.

  She was focused on the same two measures. I doubted she heard me come down the stairs. She woke me up early, on accident, by leaving the bathroom light on before slamming the screen door shut on her way to her daily mile run. I laid awake for a long time, listening to the thunderclaps and the gutters rattling in the windy violence. The storms rolled in later this morning, washed away yesterday’s sticky humidity, and left more rain clouds.

  Now the chaotic rumblings seemed far away, washed away by Katie’s practice. A creature of habit, predictable as Sunday morning, beautiful as the steady tap-tap of notes she played. The only lights were her candles and the soft glow of the floor-lamp near the baby grand.

  I stood in the double French doors, hands
in pockets, watching Katie practice ragtime music. Sweaty hair clung to her bare shoulders, hiding her face. Her arms and legs were muscular and well toned. She had an lovely hourglass shape, one she worked at every day without fail, with curvy hips and a tight body.

  I tiptoed into the kitchen and put on the coffee. The counters and cabinets were as organized as everything Katie did, all the way down to the magnets on the fridge and the three patterns in their own respective cupboards. She never simply threw something into a drawer. Everything had a place, or it didn’t belong anywhere.

  I managed complete silence, pouring the water slow and steady, betrayed only by the noisy coffee machine sputtering to life.

  The music stopped. Katie—once a budding musician for a major orchestra—refused to practice with me in a twenty foot radius. As if I couldn’t hear between the floorboards.

  Soft, pitter-patter of bare feet on hardwood. The rustling of a robe being thrown on.

  “Morning, Tom” she said.

  “Hey you,” I said, returning the warm smile. “Just in time for coffee.”

  “Good.”

  I poked my head into the fridge. Dozen eggs, butter, wheat bread, left-over lasagna from a night ago. Something was missing. I had no idea what.

  When I turned around with the eggs in hand, Katie was staring at me, lips pressed tight and eyes narrow, hiding behind an empty coffee mug.

  “The usual?” I said.

  “Yes, please.”

  I prepared a much too large omelet with mushrooms, peppers, and bacon. She toasted bread. I tried hard to remember what my brain couldn’t remember.

  The more I thought, the fewer quality ideas came into my head. A little something I didn’t notice, or forgot, or dismissed. For certain, Katie would quiz me on it later. Whatever “it” was.

  “Penny for your thoughts,” she said, leaning her body against mine as I stirred the eggs. Strong and skinny fingers pressed into my waist, massaging just below the elastic band.

  “Might get a dozen thoughts for a penny,” I said. “The way I’m going today.”

  “Oh?” Katie pressed her pelvis against me, hands slipping down my thighs. The spatula slipped from my grip. Hot breath tickled the back of my neck. “Is this helping?”

  “Not at all.”

  My cock responded to her touching. The cotton fabric of my pajamas stretched. These eggs were going to waste. I desperately wanted her to reach into my pants and stroke me.

  Instead, Katie kissed me on the neck. Her hands explored my back, my chest, twisting a nipple on the way to the shoulders.

  The tingling in my body became a warm flush. The room unbearable hot. I turned off the stovetop. Only a cold shower would save me.

  Eyes clenched shut. Breathing in ragged gasps as Katie massaged me.

  I fought the urge to turn around. To take her. To force her to her knees.

  That would end the sensations all too soon.

  I had all morning. All day, actually.

  “Do you want me to stop?” she whispered in my ear. Her tongue flitted across the lobe.

  Words refused to form. So I shook my head.

  I was in her control. In the way only she can control me.

  Katie lifted my shirt. I pulled it the rest of the way off my head.

  She pressed against me, warm skin on skin. My penis nearly popped the button on my pants.

  Almost too much. I white-knuckle gripped the stove handle. She kissed me on the shoulder. Down the arm.

  Fingers roaming. South.

  Finding the drawstring. And finally pulling my pajamas down.

  The full length of my cock popped out, at attention. The tip touched the warm metal of the stove.

  “Please,” I said.

  “Eager, are we?”

  “Yes. Please.”

  I stepped out of the pants. Naked and turned around in front of my wife.

  Seemed unfair.

  But I didn’t want control.

  I wanted to be fucked.

  She slipped off her robe. The fabric rustled quietly when she tossed it aside.

  Both her hands on my ass. One on each cheek.

  “What do you desire?” she whispered into my ear.

  “A blow job,” I said. “A nasty. Sloppy blow.”

  Katie grasped my elbow and turned me around. A wicked smile colored her cheeks.

  “Good,” she cooed. “Thought you’d never ask.”

  A kiss on the lips. Pinch on both nipples.

  The sports-bra came off. And tossed aside on top of the robe.

  Both her nipples were erect. I touched them, softly, not quite pinching. Katie clutched my hands.

  And went down on her knees.

  She kissed the tip. Hands on my hips. She slid her wet tongue down my shaft.

  I throbbed at the sensation. Eager for more.

  A kiss at the base. Katie fondled my balls with lips and tongue. I gripped the edge of the stove, and tilted my head back.

  Another lick, this time back up the shaft.

  She swallowed me to the nub. My cock pierced the back of her throat. She breathed through her nose, slow, methodical. As if she were practicing yoga.

  Katie’s teeth scratched me as she released. Not enough to leave a mark. Enough to feel her loving bite.

  Another pass. Her saliva dripped down my shaft, down my balls.

  I bucked. My cock felt engorged. Ready to pop.

  She wrapped fingers around the base and slapped my cock with her other hand.

  “Be a good boy,” she said.

  I moved my lips. Words didn’t come out.

  Katie just laughed. A womanly chuckle.

  She shook her head. Right before clamped her teeth down on me again.

  This time, using both hands and mouth. One hand on my shaft. The other massaging my sack.

  The rhythm increased. Wet sucking and pumping. More desperate. I was certainly desperate.

  The pressure built up. More and more. Sweat dripped down my back. My heart rate increased. My breathing savage and ragged.

  Katie squeezed and tugged my balls. Milking me for all I was worth.

  I dipped into a haze full of the smell of my cock and her sweat.

  My hips and legs went numb. My penis ached. Every muscle in my body tensed.

  Until finally I exploded.

  Just a squirt at first. And then a stream. Into her hair. On her face. Only a little made it into her mouth.

  Katie kept sucking and scraping my cock.

  Fluid dripped from her mouth to the floor. Cum or saliva, I couldn’t tell in the moment.

  She released me, and leaned back to admire her handiwork. My cock still throbbed, aching, ready for another round.

  Katie got to her feet and kissed me. I tasted my own saltiness in her mouth.

  “Be a dear and clean up,” she said. “I might have more games for you later.”

  I smiled like a doofus as she walked away. The stairs creaked as she ran upstairs.

  And like a flash of lightening as the most inappropriate time, I remembered what was missing from the fridge.

  A bottle of Zinfandel I had bought yesterday. For Katie and me to share tonight.

  It was gone. And I had no idea where it went to.

  2

  The shower turned on upstairs after a few minutes. I spent the time thinking, over and over, where the fuck is the wine?

  I opened the fridge again, scanned the counters and the island, looked under the sink. Nowhere. I had gone to the liquor store yesterday afternoon, bought the Zinfandel, and discussed politics with Benny the cashier.

  And now I was losing my mind.

  A peep out the patio door told me the wine wasn’t likely outside. But I wasn’t about to go out there yet, not in the buff, least of all while it was raining.

  No way I could ask Katie where it went. Knowing her, she’d laugh and tease me about losing the wine until she told me what she did with it. Must be one of her silly games she played to frustrate me. She often hid
things—toilet bowl cleaner, toothpaste, shaving cream—just to see if I noticed, and then send me on a quest to find the missing object.

  I wiped my cum off the floor with hot water and a rag. The kitchen felt cold, now the sex was over.

  So I staggered upstairs, still a bit shaky. The shower was still running, fog crept out the bathroom door like ghostly fingers. Inside was a sauna, oppressive and hot enough to peel the wallpaper.

  The glass shower door concealed Katie as a feminine silhouette, washing her hair, hips rotating to and fro. After a while, she turned toward me, pressing a hand against the glass.

  “Are coming?” she said. “Or just standing like a dope?”

  “Out of come,” I said. “Maybe I’ll watch for a bit.”

  “Jack ass.”

  I slid open the shower door and stepped into the sticky hot spray. The water burned my skin. I had no chance to get used to the temperature, because Katie grabbed me by the back of the hair, fingers curled tight, and kissed me. Breathing suddenly became hard in the steamy shower with our tongues locked together.

  To my surprise and pleasure, I sprang back to attention, my cock head touching Katie’s abs, just below her breasts.

  I grabbed her arms, above the elbows, and wrestled her away.

  “Is something in the water?” I said.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, you’re insatiable today.”

  “Only today?”

  Katie bent her knees, about to go down on me again. But I stopped her with my fingers under her chin. I pecked her lips again, and then got down on my knees.

  I spread her thighs apart, and planted little kisses on the inside of her legs. Up. Closer to the spot.

  And skipped over to the thin landing strip above and grabbed her ass in both hands. Katie’s eyes slitted, like a hypnotized viper. One wrong move, and she’d attack. So I let my hands keep her hypnotized. Wandering up her hips and waist, following the curves, the smooth wet skin, the underside of her breasts.

  A moan escaped her mouth.

  I brushed my mouth against her pink folds. The pussy musk was already heavy. No amount of soap and water could clean that.