So it’s Friday night and I’m in that adult bookstore, “Pornocopia”; that’s the big one out by the freeway, just across from the Lazy O Motel. I’m standing in the movie section holding a DVD box in each hand, trying to decide between “Keep on Cumming: non-stop cumshots (playing time 180 minutes)”, and “Head of the Class: see the girls at Cumslut High compete to give the best head in the class”, when Carla Jones walks in.
“What is she doing here?” I ask myself.
Nothing clears out an adult bookstore like a confident woman walking in. The male browsers are moving away from Carla like a shoal of fish avoiding a shark.
Not that I have no problem with women liking or buying porn, it’s just that Carla is an attractive woman. She shouldn’t be in a porn store on a Friday night; she should be out getting laid.
“So what does that say about where you spend your Friday evenings?” the voice in my head say. “If this place had a loyalty card you’d be a rich man. Anyway, admit it. What really bothers you is that you’ve spent the past few weeks jacking-off thinking about this woman.” Shit, why can’t my inner-voice ever say encouraging, supportive things to me?
It’s true though; Carla Jones is my current fantasy of choice. She works out at my gym. She’s a big-breasted Amazon of a woman, in her early 30s, with jet-black hair, which she usually wears in a ponytail. God I love to see that ponytail bounce while she’s on the treadmill.
When she joined the gym 3 months ago, Carla was carrying some weight, but now she’s turned it into muscle and she looks like she should be in an episode of “Xena, Princess Warrior”. In my fantasies she’s always on top and I’m staring up at her, awed by the fact that her ponytail swings in the opposite direction to her breasts.
We actually spoke once, about 6 weeks after she joined. I go to the gym a lot. I’m still working on building up my right arm after they put pins in it when I came off my stupid motorcycle. I got to the gym late that night and by the time I’d finished on the treadmill I had the place to myself, which was fine except I wanted to do some free weights work. I’m a traditionalist; those Nautilus machines just don’t seem like really lifting weights to me. But I don’t like to lift alone, so I was about to call it a night when some one behind me said, “Want me to spot for ya?”
It was Carla, just arrived and looking good in her workout gear.
“Thanks,” I said.
“Carla Jones,” she said holding out her hand.
“Mick Murphy,” I said, amazed at how strong her grip was.
I did benchpresses while she stood over me, ready to take the weights if I needed her to. It was looking up at her from the bench the started the fantasies. I didn’t even notice that I’d managed to lift 220lbs for the first time since the crash. All I could think of was how I wished Carla would just squat over me and let me eat her out. I know I had a hard-on by the time I finished the reps.
“Impressive,” Carla said. In a moment of comic vanity I thought she was talking about my erection. “How long since you hurt your arm?” Oh well, a man can dream.
We talked about the accident and then about motorcycles. She seemed comfortable talking to me but I kept getting flustered anyway. I was surprised she knew about motorcycles but it turned out her ex-husband rode a Harley.
“If he’d ridden that damn bike a little less and me a little more, he might not be my ex,” she said.
I must have blushed, something I do way too easy, because she apologised for the comment. Next thing I know she’s saying that she’d better start her workout and I was heading for the showers, where I jacked off thinking about the way she looked standing above me.
We’ve said hi when we’ve met since then, but we haven’t really talked. I wouldn’t feel comfortable talking to a woman like her with all those guys around.
So now she’s gonna find me in the porno store. I can’t let her see me here. What’s she gonna say next time I’m in the gym, “Hey Mick, did those porno videos get you off OK?”
I move back into a box-canyon of porno vids, hoping she won’t see me. There’s a curved mirror at the end of the aisle, placed there to discourage shoplifting I guess. I look up into it and I can see Carla. She wearing a big old T-shirt, cut-off jeans and a baseball cap. Something about the way her ponytail looks, coming out of the back of the cap, makes me want to touch her.
Then I realise that she’s browsing the sex toy section. My God she’s gonna buy something. “Well Duh! She’s in a store isn’t she?” I think to myself. I mean I know women buy these things, but I’ve never linked that knowledge to a woman I’ve actually met.
Now I’m really curious to see what she’s gonna buy. It turns out she’s a careful shopper. She picks up a number of dildos and eventually selects a huge but realistic looking thing. You know the kind where there’s a suction cup under the balls? Ok so I’ve checked them out. I was just curious. It’s not like I bought one or anything.
Carla’s selection prompts a little fantasy video in my head, and distracts me enough that I don’t realise that she’s heading my way until she’s almost at my little canyon of porn. Obviously she wants some eyecandy to go with her toyfriend.
I turn my back to the entrance to the aisle and pretend to be studying the vids. Only as I hear Carla moving behind me, do I notice that I’ve wandered into the gay section and am now browsing titles that include “Fireman’s Pole” and “Twinkies by twilight”. “Please God, let me die now,” I think.
“Mick? Mick Murphy? Is that you?” Carla says.
“Shout my name a little louder,” I think, ” there must be some folks here who missed it the first time.”
I turn round, grin like an idiot and say, “Hi Carla.”
“So what you shopping for?” she asks, like we’ve met in the vegetable aisle at Safeway’s.
Then I see her read the titles behind my head and she starts to look surprised.
“I wasn’t looking at those,” I say. “I mean, I was but I didn’t mean to. I mean I’m not gay or anything.” I’m sounding desperate now.
“Just curious huh?” Carla says.
I miss the fact that she’s grinning and I hold out the two videos I’d been trying to choose between earlier, as evidence of my heterosexuality.
“I wanted one of these,” I hear myself saying and I wonder how some idiot managed to seize control of my mouth.
Carla reads the titles dutifully and then says, “So are you always this sperm oriented?”
It had never occurred to me that the videos I had selected were focused as much on men’s sperm and men’s cocks as they were on the women doing the sucking. Jesus she’s gonna think I’m a gay who lacks the courage to come out.
I must look panicked, because Carla steps closer and says in quiet, reassuring voice, “It’s OK Mick. I know you’re not gay. I remember your impressive response when I spotted for you that time.”
My jaw drops but before I can form words, she says, “In fact, I was thinking about that while I was doing my cock shopping.”
She holds the silicon monster up proudly. According to the title on the box, it’s called King Dong.
“Did I get it right? Or did my memory exaggerate?”
All the synapses in my brain have fused, possibly as a consequence of the sudden diversion of blood to my penis. I stand there, silent and rigid.
Carla looks down, grins and says, “It’s a close thing. I think it would need a careful comparison.”
She laughs at the expression on my face, and then she pushes me up against the gay videos and kisses me.
What can I say? She’s bigger than me. How could I resist? Besides, I couldn’t summon the motor skills necessary to drop the two videos I was holding, never mind fight Carla off. And who’d want to fight? This is a battle I’m enjoying losing on many fronts at once. My mouth surrenders to her tongue, my chest is suppressed by the massed forces of her breasts and my butt cheeks part without resistance as her hands besiege them even though she is also pressing King Dong against me.
When I’m allowed up for air, my brain starts to work again. This is simply too good to be true.
“You planned this, didn’t you?” I say.
She nods her head, which is still very close to mine, grins and kisses me again. This time I drop the damned videos and let my hands explore the firm butt Carla has worked so hard to create.
Carla steps back from me, puts her hands behind her back, holds her head sideways, puts one foot forward and grinds her toe into the floor. It would have been a creditable impersonation of a repentant schoolgirl if I hadn’t been able to see King Dong sticking out from behind her back.
“I’ve been very naughty,” she says. “I saw you on your bike on the freeway and decided to follow you. I’ve been waiting for you to ask me out for weeks. When you came in here, I decided that your Friday night schedule must be as empty as mine, so I thought I’d hit on you. You don’t mind, do you Mick?”
She’s looking at me from under her brows, and brushing the end of her ponytail against her lips. I love it when girls do that. Of course none of them have ever done it to me before. I’m the shy one they never seem to notice.
I’ve been silent for a little too long. Carla’s starting to look uncomfortable. Any minute now she’s gonna get embarrassed or pissed off and this will all be over. Shit.
“For God’s sake man,” the voice in my head says, “say something.” And for once in my tongue-tied life the words arrive on time.
I look at Carla sternly and say, “Of course I mind,” then, before she can hit me, I add, “why didn’t you do this last week? That’s seven days worth of sex we’ve missed out on already.”
Carla’s grin makes my heart do backflips.
“If we’re that far behind schedule,” she says “we’d better pull a double shift at the motel across the street.”
“Great,” I say, trying to pretend that I’m not stunned and that this kind of thing happens to me all the time. “Let’s go.”
I make for the door but Carla catches me by the wrist.
“Uh huh” she says, “we have to finish shopping first” and she leads me back to the toy section
I’d thought the impact of a confident woman walking into this place was dramatic, but it was nothing compared to the sight of 6′ woman leading a 5’10” man across to the adult toy section. Especially when she insists on pointing the way with King Dong.
Men are staring at us like we’ve just beamed down from the planet Zod. They look betrayed. They come in here for refuge in fantasy, not so that they can be confronted with the fact that a real woman intends to fuck a guy like me this very night.
Oh shit, how much more embarrassing can this get? She’s picking up a bright green butt-plug which ends in a kind of black ponytail that looks almost as impressive as Carla’s.
She’s in to anal sex. I’ve never had anal sex. What if I fuck it up? Oops, bad choice of words.
She’s gives me an evil grin, leans past me, and holds the butt-plug up against my ass.
“That suits you,” she says, like it’s a tie or something.
Hold on. Suits ME? Me! Oh shit.
“So do these,” she says, and suddenly I’m holding a set of padded leather handcuffs. This woman has been reading my fantasies.
Just for a second I catch her looking at me to check I’m Ok with all this. She apparently decides I am, cos she’s grinning again and saying, “Now where do they keep the lube? You can never have too much lube.”
Looking at the butt-plug that she is casually holding by the tail, I can only agree.
She picks up a tube of Astroglide lube with a glow in the dark label (these guys think of everything) and then we head for the cash register.
I expect the guy at the desk to leer and shout out to someone in back “Hey Joe, are the butt-pugs still on special offer?” but he just bags the stuff and asks for the money. I’m gonna get out of here in one piece after all.
The guy hands me the bag and says, “have a nice day” and Carla and I both laugh.
Then she does something that just makes my toes curl. She takes my face in both her hands and, right there in front of everybody, she kisses me.
For a long time.
There is complete silence in the store.
Then she hugs me and whispers, “We are going to have so much fun.”
I believe her.
We head out the door, hand in hand, and I know that right now I would follow this woman anywhere. I like that feeling. I’ve been waiting for it for a long long time.
© Mike Kimera 2001 All rights reserved. Do not reproduce without written permission from the author.