Hero’s Life Ch. 09
Author’s Note: life got in the way for a few days there folks. Back on track. Just joining? First, kudos to you for wading in at “Ch.09.” Second, I’ll bottom line this for you: Samantha, Heather (aka Peaches) and Hero (narrator) are a happy little love triangle. Enjoy.
Sam and I missed Heather during her first semester away at college. The girls e-mailed regularly. Peaches and I exchanged text messages at random times. She got lonely at night sometimes. Now and again she’d send me a blurry cell phone camera pic of her butt and ask me if it looked like she’d put on any of the infamous “freshman 15.” I was happy to see that college was not damaging her sense of humor. And, of course, her ass still looked awesome.
In the meantime, life with Sam was anything but boring. In fact, you didn’t live with Sam so much as you rode her. Like a rollercoaster. The good news is that I like rollercoasters – real ones and figurative ones.
The week before, we went together to visit the grave of Sam’s old boyfriend, Stephen. Once in awhile, I had heard Sam cry his name in her sleep. After a particularly fitful night, she had asked me if I minded coming to visit him.
We stood in the open cold of the cemetery. It was windy and clear. Gusts whipped Sam’s long dark hair around until she twisted it loosely and tucked it under the collar of her tan wool coat. I hung back a few steps as she touched his headstone. “Hi Stevie,” she began softly, “I still miss you.”
I swallowed and blinked several times to stave off tears I hadn’t seen coming. Sam’s mix of loss and love hit me harder than I expected. Here was proof that Samantha loved just as fiercely as she hated. And why fight off the tears? Well, my dad told me that girls and children can cry whenever they want but men have to choose the right time. This visit was about Sam’s grief, not about my sympathy.
Sam talked softly enough for the next few minutes that I couldn’t hear her. Then she reached a hand back to me and pulled me forward.
“…and this is Hero. He’s good for me, honey. Like you were.”
That did it. I gritted my teeth as one good-sized tear spilled down my face. If Sam asked, I’d blame it on the wind.
There was a pause and I realized Sam was waiting for me to say something. I said the only thing I was thinking. “I guess I owe you for helping make Sammie special. I love her too, Stephen. Thank you.”
Sam smiled, and we said goodbye to his headstone. Then we stopped for ice cream despite the freezing cold weather. I’m pretty sure that grief is fat-soluble.
So, yeah, that had been a low point. But, oh boy, last night had been a high one.
It started when Sam had finally consented to being my guinea pig. No, nothing kinky. At least not in the beginning.
At long last, I had convinced Sam to let me find her a real liquor. I’m not an alcoholic, but I do like a good stiff drink when I get home from a bad day at work. And while clear spirits like vodka and gin are bedrock principles, I’m convinced that anyone worth spending more than 5 minutes of my time with can be shepherded along into the world of cask-aged brown liquory goodness.
Thus far, Sam usually drank wine – Italian reds. Where a cocktail was more appropriate, she favored a simple cosmopolitan. In the right setting though, she’d treat herself to a martini and, to her credit, Sam’s martini was the sexiest one I’d ever heard ordered. I even liked to watch her order it. Particularly from male bartenders. In fact, the first time she’d done this in front of me it had produced an interesting outcome. The restaurant added her drink to the bar menu. It happened when we were waiting at the bar for a dinner table on a crowded night.
When the bartender came over, Sam sized him up. We’d seen him before and I guess she decided he was capable so she laid it on him. “Perfect martini – down and extra dirty with two spaniards and the best you can give me,” she requested with a glint in her hazel eyes.
I stifled a laugh, her drink order was the outline of a porno script and an invitation.
The bartender stopped in his tracks. He was in his mid-fifties – young enough that he still appreciated a beautiful young woman making a double entendre but old enough that his mind could still work under those conditions. He raised an eyebrow, then cocked his head and squinted at her a moment in thought. Finally, he nodded when the light bulb in his brain clicked on. It took about three seconds. The man knew his trade.
He fared better than I did. When he stepped away, I had to lean into Sam for an explanation. “OK, I understood escort ataşehir the ‘perfect martini’ part but you lost me after that. ‘Down’?”
She smiled. “If I said ‘up’ it would mean?”
“So when I say ‘down’ I mean?” She prompted socratically.
“So why not say ‘rocks’ like everybody else?”
“‘Cause ‘down and dirty’ sounds better doesn’t it?”
It did. No point in arguing. “Allrighty, I know ‘dirty’ means adding a dash of olive juice, but ‘two spaniards’?”
“Spanish olives. I can see them in the bar tray over there. They’re herby and scrumptious – better than italians.”
“Gotcha. Now please tell me that ‘the best you can give me’ means you’re asking for his best gin…” I said with a crooked grin.
She chuckled as the bartender returned. He slid the drink to her across the bar on a cocktail napkin. “What’s your name young lady?”
“Samantha,” she smiled warmly.
“Next time you come in Samantha, that’ll be on the menu.” The bartender turned to wink at me. “Careful son, I’m guessing she’s a hellcat.”
“In so many different ways,” I shrugged and grinned, stressing each of the three middle words.
So it came to pass that one of the nicer restaurants we frequented had a new drink: “The Hellcat (martini): Perfect, down and extra dirty with a pair of Spaniards and the best your bartender can give you.”
And people actually ordered the damn thing.
But I digress. Again.
Back to yesterday and finding Sam’s liquor. When she gave me the okay last night, I pulled every worthy bottle out of my immense bar cabinet. There were three dozen bottles total. (Hey, most of them were gifts. Friends, acquaintances and clients seem to think accountants drink a lot – maybe to dull the pain they imagine must come from a career they envision as unbearably tedious?)
It took us twenty-four of the thirty-six bottles to zero in on her liquor. By then we’d marched happily through various whiskey, bourbon, scotch, brandy, cognac, armagnac, tequila, port, and sherry. We were just tasting, so I only poured us quarter shots. We’d taken our time too, two hours in all, nibbling on crackers and water to cleanse our palates. Still, we’d downed the equivalent of six full shots, enough to put a dent in my sobriety. Petite, little, sub-100 lbs Sam was just shy of hammered.
Sam’s liquor? It was at first a surprise that actually made sense on reflection – aged rum. Gosling’s Family Reserve to be exact – dark, strong, complex, nutty and sweet. It suited her perfectly. In her own way, she was all of those things.
When Sam’s eyes lit up at her first taste I knew we had a winner. “Bingo!” she beamed. I poured a couple of fingers into a snifter for her. When I handed her the glass and the bottle, she professed her new found love for Gosling’s. “Darling, where have you been all my life?” she cooed, and then kissed the black bottle.
She happily sipped from the snifter a few times before looking at me. Her hazel eyes had gone smoky. “Hero, can we put all this stuff away later? The booze has me in the mood for something… a little different. I need some boy-girl bed time.”
We made our way upstairs, Sam nursing her rum. She gulped the last of it in the bedroom though and set the glass down to slide a box out from under the bed. That box was for sex toys that she and Heather played with. Sam had never shared her toys with me and I had never asked. I’d figured that they were reserved for girlie sessions with Peaches.
She pulled out a tiny white thing with two buttons, “remote,” she said as she tossed it to me. Then she dug to the bottom of her box and pulled out a large, pink, double-headed dildo.
“I hope one of those ends isn’t for me,” I gulped theatrically.
“Nope, all for me. Here, hold it.” She handed it to me. It was hard at both ends and very flexible in the middle. “Now press the remote buttons.”
I did. The double dildo, nay the double vibrator, came to life. The remote’s two buttons separately worked each end of the toy. It was the product of some demented genius/sex fiend.
“Both ends for you, you said?”
“And where do I put them?”
“Well, it’s too short to reach my mouth sooo…. you figure it out. You’re a smart boy.” Sam wriggled out of the green satiny pajama bottoms she had been wearing. She left her small black cotton top on. Nude from the waist down, she laid back on the bed and spread her legs lewdly.
Even after several months together, Sam’s sheer tinyness still struck me sometimes. Just then, kadıköy escort she looked so little in the middle of our big bed. So little and so damn molestable. And I wasn’t getting a big romantic vibe here. “Mmmm… foreplay?”
“Unnecessary. Unneeded. Unwanted,” she sassily confirmed my suspicion.
“So, just horny then?”
“Very,” she smiled tipsily.
I had my answers. I licked one end of the dildo and settled myself between her splayed legs. “Ready?” I asked as I rubbed the dildo against her tiny slit. She was already quite wet.
“Very,” she repeated.
I teased her opening a little then just barely slipped an end inside her and pressed one of the remote buttons. The inserted end sprang to life, vibrating away. Sam sighed.
Holding it still just inside, I bent to flick my tongue against her clit.
She moaned a happy “Mmm…hmmm,” in response and clutched the bedspread.
I continued, flicking her clitoris delicately and began to barely piston her toy just an inch inside her. I watched her inner lips grip its circumference tightly. After just a couple dozen strokes, she began raising her ass off the bed, hungry for deeper penetration. I felt like teasing Sammie a little so I closed my mouth on her clitoris and used my neck muscles to press her down and keep her still.
Frustrated and eager to come, she resorted to tilting her hips up and down as much as she could. I gingerly worked on her hard little button with my tongue. She’d been ready to come almost immediately. I managed to draw it out for all of five minutes.
Her first orgasm raced through her and it was over as quickly as it came. She groaned gratefully. She knew we were only getting started.
I took advantage of her brief orgasm-induced disorientation and rolled her onto her belly. Releasing the button to turn the vibrator off, I slowly pushed the dildo deep into her.
“Uh-huh,” she encouraged me.
Her breathing became a shallow pant as it gradually slid further and further until it finally bottomed out 7 inches in. She grunted when it nudged her cervix. I nibbled one of her slender little butt cheeks and pulled the dildo back out even more slowly. Sam mewled hungrily when I paused again with it just barely at her entrance.
I pressed my face into her ass cheeks and took one long languid lick up her asscrack. Then another lick as I slowly slid the dildo fully into her again. Sam’s body shook. I licked lower, tracing the semi-circular juncture of the dildo and her sex then returned to twirl my tongue into her rosebud. Sam mewled again, this time happily.
I began fucking her with the dildo while licking her little olive star. Then I turned the vibrator back on and she shook more violently. I fucked her harder with the dildo while spearing my tongue into her rectum and sawing it in and out of her butt. She came again, clawing at the bedspread and groaning.
Before she finished recovering, I bent the other end of the dildo around, centered it on her loosened, wet rosebud and gently pushed it into her ass. Her sphincter bloomed open to accepted the toy.
“So good,” Sam moaned as it slowly slid two inches into her butt. “Ugh yeah, this is what I needed,” she moaned again at four inches. “Right there,” she gasped when the pink dildo passed the six inch mark.
Keeping the toy in place by holding it where it was doubled over, I touched one button on the remote then the other, alternating the vibrations in each of her holes. Sam’s ass made involuntary circles as she ground herself down into the mattress in response.
“Now fuck me…” she pleaded, “… in both holes. I will come so fucking hard. I can already feel it.”
My cock twitched at Sam’s dirty talk.
It was a weird sort of coordination test, operating the remote’s buttons with one hand while using the other hand to slide the double-headed cock in and out of Samantha – like patting your head and rubbing your stomach at the same time. It took a minute to get the hang of it. Soon I was fucking Samantha’s little body while turning the vibrators at each end on and off. Sometimes alternating each end’s vibration. Sometimes turning them on together.
I looked up and Sam’s mouth was opening and closing like a fish trying to breathe air. Her silky dark hair was covering most of her face. She was wheezing continuously, pausing occasionally to gasp out an “Oh God!”
Knowing full well that Sam likes rougher play, I mashed both of the remote buttons down and started savaging her cunt and ass with her fake two-headed dick. She began to groan gleefully, arching maltepe escort bayan her ass up to accept the dual invasions and twirling her hips in small circles. Then her body went rigid and she stopped groaning to take a deep breath. The pause turned into an outright scream when her third orgasm took her, “AAAAAHHHH!” I held the folded dildo deep inside her as she came, alternating the vibrators over and over until she eventually stopped twitching.
“Just what I needed,” she sighed when she’d recovered. I rotated her onto her side then scooted up to spoon in behind her.
“Mind a little of the real thing now?”
“After that, you’re entitled to anything you want,” she chuckled softly, still dizzy from coming
“Where would madame like me?”
“You pick,” she chuckled again.
I slid one end of the dildo out of her pussy, leaving the other in her ass, and skewered my cock into her hot, wet sex. She was hot, swollen and slippery inside from her arousal. She accepted my entire length with a slowly exhaled breath.
“Do I feel as good as your toy?” I asked.
“You’re warmer… thicker… better…” she murmured happily.
I pressed the remote button and the dildo in her butt vibrated, pleasuring us both. “Oh, that’s nice,” I snickered, turning it on and off and enjoying the humming through her vagina. I began to fuck Sam gently while letting the vibrator buzz in her butt.
“You like that too huh?” Sam grinned, turning to look at me over her shoulder.
“Definitely,” I moaned, beginning to fuck her steadily. “Take this?” I pressed the remote into her hand. She used it to manipulate the vibrator in her ass for both our benefit.
With a last devilish thought, I took the free end of the dildo and bent it up over her hip and back down to stroke it against her clitoris. Sam jumped and groaned.
“Turn this end on too,” I urged her. She did, and I held it against clitoris.
“Ugh, you shrewd little fucker.” She gritted her teeth, instantly fighting a fourth orgasm. I kissed the back of her neck in response, fucking into her clutching depths and reveling in the dildo’s vibrations through her front and her back ends at the same time. It was fantastic. Too fantastic.
“I’m going to come,” I warned her.
“Yeah… me too…” she panted. Her cunt snapped shut tightly around me as her orgasm started. I fought her doubled tightness to stroke in and out a few more times then exploded deep inside her, bathing her insides in cum. My orgasm was huge but Sam’s orgasm was a marathon event. She started coming before I did but was still coming after I finished. She continued grinding herself back into my cock and the vibrating dildo in her ass. She went limp finally after what seemed like a 5 minute orgasm.
When we’d caught our breaths, I slowly pulled free of her and gently eased the dildo from between her tiny little butt cheeks.
She turned to face me and nuzzled into my neck. “Fuck the rum, where have you been all my life?” she said weakly.
“Waiting patiently for two beautiful women to sweep me off my feet.”
She snickered then sighed contentedly. The four orgasms and the liquor took their toll and Sam was soon asleep. It took me a bit longer. In the meantime, I enjoyed the dark, the quiet, and Sam’s usual honey and sandalwood scent now laced with the chaotic odor of the two dozen liquors on both our breaths.
Like I said, it had been a good night.
The next morning, I stumbled my barely awake, caffeine-deficient ass down the stairs to make the morning coffee. Sam and I had come to an understanding on the coffee responsibilities. I did Saturdays. This was the Saturday before Christmas.
Trudging along in my semi-sleep stupor, I fantasized about breeding and training dogs that could make coffee. Why not? There were already assistance dogs who could do really complicated tasks. I’d call my pooch a… hmmm…. a brewhund. Yeah. I could sell them to other lazy java addicted yuppies by the thousands. Okay, I really needed coffee. My brain ran down even stranger tangents than usual without it.
It was when I’d just finished this silly internal dialogue that I shuffled past the den with the large Christmas tree that Sam and I had decorated together. I stopped because I didn’t recognize the big fleecy red blanket heaped beneath the tree. I moved towards it and one end stirred. My mind hadn’t quite left dogs so my first thought was: Sam got me a puppy?
Then the whole blankety pile shifted and a beautiful little teenage face, half-covered by sleep tousled golden blonde hair, popped into view. My heart melted into the hardwood floor I was standing on. This was way better than a puppy.
“Merry Christmas!” Heather beamed.
“Peaches?! Peaches!” I scrambled towards her like I was eight years-old again.
I’d just gotten the only thing I wanted for Christmas…