The Lineup(77)

“Shit, that was—” Her hand falls to my erection and she starts pumping feverishly, her hold so tight that I need to focus on how to breathe as air escapes my lungs at a rapid succession.

Her breasts rest against my legs, and I wish I was free of my pants to feel her hard nipples rubbing against my skin. Not strong enough to even consider taking my pants all the way off, I go for the next best thing. I reach out and cup her breast, passing my thumb over her nipple. Hard, like a pebble, I relish in the contradiction between her soft breast to her erect nipple, the feeling so erotic I can already feel my impending orgasm.

It begins with her stroke, the tight hold she has on me.

It continues with the little passes of her tongue over the head of my cock. Flicks that travel around in a circle and then focus on the underneath.

She looks up at me with so much lust that it breaks my self-control.

And it all tumbles down when she reaches down and squeezes the base of my cock while her mouth takes me all the way in.

Fuck. I’m gone.

Like an out-of-body experience, I feel myself floating off the couch, the rest of my apartment turning black, leaving just me and Dottie, together, her swallowing my dick so hard, so fast, that I squeeze her shoulder. The voice that falls past my lips sounds nothing like me, as it’s almost a squeak.

“Going to come.”

She pops her mouth off my dick just long enough to say, “Good,” before lowering her head again.

There’s nothing to grip as pressure builds at the base of my spine. No hair to hold on to, no shirt. Fuck this couch and its sturdy fabric. I reach behind me, hold the edge of the couch, and as she sucks me one last time, hard and long, I come.

I come like a goddamn king, ferociously, and with a long groan so I don’t realize Dottie is climbing back on top of me until her lips are passing over mine.

“I have to go.”

“Wh-what?” I say breathlessly, unsure if I can even lift my head, let alone help her dress. “Just stay for a second.”

“Can’t. I have a lot to do.”

I watch like a chump, sitting back on the couch, dick lying against my stomach, still reeling from what just happened as she dresses.

“You can’t just leave me like this.”

She laughs and slips her dress over her head. “I think I can. I don’t predict you’ll be getting up in the near future.” She has that right. She zips up her dress and pats at her hair, not a strand out of place. “Thank you . . . for this.”

“Uh, why are you thanking me? I don’t think I did anything.”

“You did more than you think.” Her cheeks redden when she lowers to my lap and sits across it. Her hands fall to my chest as she places a soft kiss against my lips. “I will say this. I’m going to text Jessica, my assistant, because I don’t think I have any ChapStick at the office and I’m going to need some.”

“Ah, now I can do something for you.” I reach into my pocket of my loose pants lying mid-thigh and hand her my Carmex. “Here, take it with you.”

“Thank you.” She pops off the cap and smooths the balm over the corners of her mouth, wincing for a second.

“Hey, you okay?”

She nods and puts the cap back on. “You were just a lot bigger than I’ve, uh, ever seen.”

“Oh.” I chuckle. “Sorry,” I say awkwardly, not that I can change my dick size or anything.

“Don’t be sorry. Just need to get used to it is all.” She plays with the collar of my shirt. “I can’t wait to have you inside me, especially after having you in my mouth.”

Jesus Christ. This woman is like a gift sent from above.

“Keep saying things like that and you’re never getting out of here.”

With one more kiss and a pat to my chest, she lifts off my lap and heads for the door to my apartment. “I’ll text you later. Can’t wait for tomorrow.”

“Can’t wait either. Bye, sweet cheeks.”

She waves her fingers at me and is out the door, leaving me spent with my dick and balls out. I think I might have to cancel batting practice. She just sucked all the energy out of me. Literally and figuratively. Shit. How did I get so fucking lucky?





Dottie: I miss being across the hall from you.

Jason: Words I never thought you’d say.

Dottie: I know, I surprised myself, but despite your annoying tendencies and non-stop chattering, I miss it.

Jason: You’re making my heart soar like a fucking falcon. A goddamn FALCON, Dottie.

Dottie: Falcon. That’s pretty serious. Do you know what would have been more serious? An albatross.

Jason: Pfft, no way. They might have a ten-foot wingspan, but they’re seabirds, so they shit in the ocean. Where’s the fun in that?

Dottie: As opposed to . . .

Jason: Shitting on people’s heads, of course. If I was a bird, that would be my main purpose in life, shitting on unsuspecting people’s heads. Think about it, being targeted by a bird bowel movement is detrimental as a human being. You’re just going about your normal business when all of a sudden, WHACK, white goop drips from your forehead down your cheek. What is that, you think? You carefully touch it, your fingers immediately wet with semi-warm liquid. And when you realize it’s an anal secretion from a flying vertebrate, all hell breaks loose. The horror! The disgust! The SHAME OF BEING SHIT ON. There’s no coming back from that. #DayRuined And as the maniacal bird, there you are, floating around in the peaceful skies, watching idiot humans running around in circles, trying to get rid of the poo-poo. With one flip of the feather—or the bird, hey-o—you’re off to the bird feeder, filling up so you can drop turd once again. A vicious cycle of humans feeding birds only to get shit on unsuspectedly, I AM HERE FOR THAT!