What We Need
This is something I wrote today at Taco Bell and Firestone while waiting for my car to be repaired. Though the tag indicates the Midnight Secret contest, this is not to be counted as a submission. Instead, as a judge, I feel all entrants should have some idea of who is reading their stories. That said, this is not my usual genre I write in. Still, I feel it's kinda appropriate for the season.
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It was the witching hour, nothing so crude as midnight of course. Anyone can be a witch at midnight under a full moon. It was past 3 am and he had been awoken by a hand on his shoulder, shaking him urgently. His eyes opened to an unfamiliar ceiling and the usual questions of "Who am I?" "Where am I?" "Am I wearing clothes?" filled his head and were promptly banished. A finger pressed against his lips and words were whispered into his ear barely above the threshold of hearing, the voice one of a distant memory his sleep addled brain could not yet recollect.
"I want to tell you a secret."
The air in the car reeks of cigarettes and is heavy with the scent of sex. Not cum and pussy juice, but the anticipation of the sex to come. The hot, heavy, bestial sex in which I will participate just as soon as you signal me.
My ears droop as the clock ticks away another minute and I reach for the pack and light up another smoke.
I watch the blonde labs and dobe bitches enter their rooms followed by their johns. The motel is not seedy by any means but is convenient in having no other buildings around and just off the interstate. It is the first time I ever been here but not my first time at a motel.
Not my first time waiting for you.
Half a pack of cigarettes and an hour later a shadow passes in front of the drawn curtains and the door cracks open. I know my cue and stub out the fag in the ashtray. Reaching into the backseat I grab my tool and exit the car.
The night is cool but I am panting anyway, heart pounding as my body lusts to be inside you and knowing what I have to do to get that fuck.
The door is silent when I open it to see him sitting on the other side of the bed staring at the ground, or maybe his cock and thinking about what he'd just done. He turns to look when the lock makes a soft click.
"Who the fuck--"
I swing the bat, crushing his long collie nose into something befitting a shar pei. He tries to scream through the mush which is now his mouth, eyes wide with terror, and I swing the piece of wood again. A high-pitched gurgle fills the room as his ear is driven into his skull and his eye lays dislocated down one cheek. With a final blow it is all over and the police will only be able to identify him by his paw prints.
The commotion over, you enter from the bathroom. The air carries the scent of sex from the both of you and I felt my prick aching to escape my pants. Your white vixen fur beckons my lust and I fight back the urge to fuck you against the wall. I know my place. I know to wait.
You give his body a glance and walk over to it, dipping your finger into the pulp of brain and blood, and draw a bloody heart on your chest.
How beautiful you look.
I find myself whimpering and am unable to keep my tail still. I know this is against the rules so I'm not surprised when you slap me across the face. It bothers me little, however, because I know it only makes you ache for the throbbing bit of me to be inside of you.
The bat falls to the floor and I make no objections about being tackled to the bed. I appreciate you taking the time and not shredding my clothes but your not fast enough for my cock which I can already feel leaking into my pants.
I want to fuck you so bad.
You lick the trickle of blood on the side of my nose and I let out what I hope is a soundless moan. Your fingers digging into my chest tell me otherwise. My tongue draws yours into my mouth and I feel your teeth against mine, our mouths locked together, and you swings your legs over my hips.
My cock plunges into you, lubricated by your passion and the cum of another. I have lost count of how many times we have done this and you never fail to surprise me how your cunt always seems so tight. I feel your pulse pressing against me and the gentle curve leading into your cervix.
You are the master of speed and know what little I need to get off. You take your time, making sure you get what you want before my need is fulfilled.
The mess he left inside you leaks and slicks my balls and I concentrate on the totem you've drawn on your chest in an effort not finish before you. It has never happened before but I know you and don't want to take the chance.
Your thrusts turn more desperate and I know what you want. I lift my hips so you can see the destruction I've caused and my eyes narrow as your hips grind heavily into mine.
You don't look at me, you never look at me, but it is my cock thrusting into you and that is enough. My need compliments yours and I am satisfied with the arrangement.
The sudden pressure on my member lets me know I've accomplished what I came for and you cease your grinding, allowing my length to slide its whole distance. Soft sucking sounds from your pussy my shaft drives into you, each thrust faster and more urgent. You may be strict but you know what I enjoy. The itch in my balls feels like fire and I sink my fingers into your haunches, my sperm exploding into you, and I bury my head in your breasts to keep from screaming.
You smile at me, your golden eyes afire, and I know I've done well. Your kisses now become more playful and are mixed with little nips at my lips. When you roll off me I can feel the mixture of the three of us dribble out of you onto my leg and I lay here while you go into the bathroom.
I hear the water running then the shower come on as you wash everything away. I can only imagine you running a hand down your body and fingering your clit but I will never know. Your shower is something I will never intrude upon.
Instead I lay here for a moment more before wiping my cock on the sheets and pulling them off the bed. I wrap the bat in them and wait for you to finish before taking my own shower and rinsing the evidence off. Unlike knowing what you do, I reach down and give myself a few strokes, believing you paying attention to only me for once while we fuck.
In my mind is the only time I know you'll ever do so.
We make the drive back to the city in silence. The beast of anticipation has been satiated and its smell has been replaced with that of soap and satisfaction. The rank smell of the cigarettes persist.
I leave you in front of your house, knowing you'll call me when you need this again, and hoping again is soon.
The sheets and bat are burned in an empty drum at a construction site I pass on the way home. I can only imagine what the housekeeper will find the next morning when she enters the room. I cleaned the room and know we'll never get caught but I would be lying if I didn't say the thrill of the possibility didn't excite me.
I stop at my hotel to pick up my luggage and drop the car off at the rental agency. My flight back home is uneventful and the landing routine. Even the drive home is mundane and by the time I reach my driveway I'm waiting for you to call again.
"Daddy," my baby says, running down the sidewalk wearing her pink backpack. Afternoon kindergarten will be starting shortly and I hear the bus pull up in front of the house.
"Have a good day, pumpkin," I say, scratch her behind her ears and kiss her head.
She runs the rest of the way and gives a floppy-handed goodbye from behind her window. I wait until the bus leaves and turn back to the house, seeing my wife standing in the doorway, showing more than a little leg and lifted tail, indicating what she's in the mood for.
"Hi, hon," she says and stands on her tiptoes to lick my nose.
I kiss her back and take her upstairs, giving her what she wants. Until you call again, though, I'll still be waiting for what I need.