L
Larry Storch
Hope this didn't post twice. Had a minor hiccup with the connection.
The other evening I stopped at a corner store to grab an exceedingly unhealthy yet none the less tasty treat.
As I rounded a corner to an aisle I saw her. She was dressed head to toe in black with her hair styled in a perfect Betty Paige do. Her make-up was impeccable and she wore bright red lipstick. Her soft leather WW2 era overcoat almost reached the floor and her stilettos were polished to a mirror shine. She must have been 6'6" in stockings and a garter belt because she stood almost 7ft tall and her heels were only about 6inches. She was standing at the 'hardware' section holding a red flyswatter, the ones with the spiral metal handle and the wide head with holes in it. As I approached I glanced at her.
"Very nice shoes." I said.
She looked at me out of the corner of her eye.
"It always amazes me that gay men like shoes so much." she said.
"Actually, I'm not gay. I like tall, dark, possibly" I paused, "dangerous women."
She tilted her head back slightly and looked down at me. She seemed to grow even taller. Without looking, she expertly flipped the flyswatter in her hand and placed the rounded edge of the metal handle under my chin and lifted.
"This costs $8.00." she said glaring into my eyes.
Eight bucks for a flyswatter!? Well, if you're going to buy one at 2 am on a Sunday I guess you're going to pay a premium. She continued staring at me until my libido subsided slightly and allowed my brain to kick in.
"Oh." I said displaying my charm and extensive vocabulary. I took out my wallet and pulled out a twenty, it was all I had on me at the time.
I barely got it into my hand and she said "That'll do." plucking it away. She tapped me under the chin several times and I could see she was deciding something.
"Go wait by my car. Now!" she ordered and I practically fled the store.
Wait by her car? How the hell would I know which was hers? I scanned the parking lot and spotted a 1959 Cadillac Fleetwood. It was painted flat black and the chrome was completely blacked out, the windows were tinted almost illegally dark. I was standing by the rear bumper when she yelled "Open my door! Now!"
I ran around to the side of the car and pushed in the button of the old style handle. It was locked! I could feel the panic rising.
I glanced up in time to see her toss the keys at me across the roof of her car.
Overhand.
The speed and accuracy of the throw would have rivaled any fastball pitched in any major league game in America. My hand shot up and stopped the keys from imbedding themselves in my face. It was more self preservation than skill that allowed me to catch it. The fob she had on the key ring was a very accurate representation of a large cockle burr sculpted in metal. All of the 'keys' consisted of metal spikes or long flat pieces with sharp serrated edges. As I extracted them from my hand I glanced up.
She was striding across the parking lot. Her overcoat flew open and she was wearing a black, lacy corset with a spider web design; her breasts were exposed and they were so firm it appeared as though they were holding up the cups of her garment rather than being supported by it. Her pierced nipples were dark with small aureola. The piercings were small barbells that matched the metal fob stuck to my hand and they stood out from her breasts so that she wouldn't feel the small barbs, but the person sucking them most definitely would.
The bottom of the corset was an inverted 'V', cut high above her navel and extending down to the tops of her thighs, a garter belt was strapped to each point and held up a pair of sheer black stockings. They had a sheen to them and they slightly reflected the overhead lights each time she stepped forward. I just knew there was a black stripe at the back running down the length of them. Her shoes turned out to be form fitting boots, polished all the way to mid thigh. She wore nothing else.
She was shaved, with the exception of a closely cropped area and carved into it, in an angry font was the word 'NO!'
By now she was almost rounding the corner of her car and I stood there staring. She wasn't slowing down. I jammed the key into the lock, twisted it and yanked the door open, almost dislocating my shoulder in the process; it weighed a ton (they really knew how to build them in the old days). She stepped into the car without breaking stride and sat down with one leg outside the car, exposing herself to me. She sat there looking up at me. I wasn't sure what to do next.
"My keys?" she said impatiently.
I fumbled with them as I tried to get them out of the lock and handed them to her. When she snatched them away I felt more than one of the sharp edges open small cuts in my hand. With the door open the interior was lit up and I saw two blondes on the back seat. They were duct taped into a 69 position and were frantically tonguing each other.
She tilted her head toward them without taking her eyes off of me and said, "Did you sluts stop licking while I was inside?"
"No mistress." they mumbled in unison as they continued to lick. They were well trained.
"Did either of you come?!"
"No mistress."
"You better not have! Lick harder!" she snarled.
They moaned in pleasure and despair, hovering on the verge of orgasm knowing they wouldn't be allowed to come until she gave her permission.
She turned the key and the machine roared to life. It sounded like a T-Rex eating a Harley.
"Get!" "In!" she growled.
I glanced into the back seat wondering how I would fit between the blondes.
"Not there." she said and pressed a button on the dash.
The truck lid popped open and slowly raised.
"There!" she said.
I walked to the back of the car and looked into the trunk. It was lined with black velvet, but had dozens and dozens of raised, blunt metal studs covering it. Not exactly designed for a comfortable ride. I leaned over and looked around the corner of the fender, along the length of the car, up her polished boot, over her pale skin, past her red lips and into her dangerous eyes.
She arched an eyebrow.
I climbed in and closed the lid.............
The other evening I stopped at a corner store to grab an exceedingly unhealthy yet none the less tasty treat.
As I rounded a corner to an aisle I saw her. She was dressed head to toe in black with her hair styled in a perfect Betty Paige do. Her make-up was impeccable and she wore bright red lipstick. Her soft leather WW2 era overcoat almost reached the floor and her stilettos were polished to a mirror shine. She must have been 6'6" in stockings and a garter belt because she stood almost 7ft tall and her heels were only about 6inches. She was standing at the 'hardware' section holding a red flyswatter, the ones with the spiral metal handle and the wide head with holes in it. As I approached I glanced at her.
"Very nice shoes." I said.
She looked at me out of the corner of her eye.
"It always amazes me that gay men like shoes so much." she said.
"Actually, I'm not gay. I like tall, dark, possibly" I paused, "dangerous women."
She tilted her head back slightly and looked down at me. She seemed to grow even taller. Without looking, she expertly flipped the flyswatter in her hand and placed the rounded edge of the metal handle under my chin and lifted.
"This costs $8.00." she said glaring into my eyes.
Eight bucks for a flyswatter!? Well, if you're going to buy one at 2 am on a Sunday I guess you're going to pay a premium. She continued staring at me until my libido subsided slightly and allowed my brain to kick in.
"Oh." I said displaying my charm and extensive vocabulary. I took out my wallet and pulled out a twenty, it was all I had on me at the time.
I barely got it into my hand and she said "That'll do." plucking it away. She tapped me under the chin several times and I could see she was deciding something.
"Go wait by my car. Now!" she ordered and I practically fled the store.
Wait by her car? How the hell would I know which was hers? I scanned the parking lot and spotted a 1959 Cadillac Fleetwood. It was painted flat black and the chrome was completely blacked out, the windows were tinted almost illegally dark. I was standing by the rear bumper when she yelled "Open my door! Now!"
I ran around to the side of the car and pushed in the button of the old style handle. It was locked! I could feel the panic rising.
I glanced up in time to see her toss the keys at me across the roof of her car.
Overhand.
The speed and accuracy of the throw would have rivaled any fastball pitched in any major league game in America. My hand shot up and stopped the keys from imbedding themselves in my face. It was more self preservation than skill that allowed me to catch it. The fob she had on the key ring was a very accurate representation of a large cockle burr sculpted in metal. All of the 'keys' consisted of metal spikes or long flat pieces with sharp serrated edges. As I extracted them from my hand I glanced up.
She was striding across the parking lot. Her overcoat flew open and she was wearing a black, lacy corset with a spider web design; her breasts were exposed and they were so firm it appeared as though they were holding up the cups of her garment rather than being supported by it. Her pierced nipples were dark with small aureola. The piercings were small barbells that matched the metal fob stuck to my hand and they stood out from her breasts so that she wouldn't feel the small barbs, but the person sucking them most definitely would.
The bottom of the corset was an inverted 'V', cut high above her navel and extending down to the tops of her thighs, a garter belt was strapped to each point and held up a pair of sheer black stockings. They had a sheen to them and they slightly reflected the overhead lights each time she stepped forward. I just knew there was a black stripe at the back running down the length of them. Her shoes turned out to be form fitting boots, polished all the way to mid thigh. She wore nothing else.
She was shaved, with the exception of a closely cropped area and carved into it, in an angry font was the word 'NO!'
By now she was almost rounding the corner of her car and I stood there staring. She wasn't slowing down. I jammed the key into the lock, twisted it and yanked the door open, almost dislocating my shoulder in the process; it weighed a ton (they really knew how to build them in the old days). She stepped into the car without breaking stride and sat down with one leg outside the car, exposing herself to me. She sat there looking up at me. I wasn't sure what to do next.
"My keys?" she said impatiently.
I fumbled with them as I tried to get them out of the lock and handed them to her. When she snatched them away I felt more than one of the sharp edges open small cuts in my hand. With the door open the interior was lit up and I saw two blondes on the back seat. They were duct taped into a 69 position and were frantically tonguing each other.
She tilted her head toward them without taking her eyes off of me and said, "Did you sluts stop licking while I was inside?"
"No mistress." they mumbled in unison as they continued to lick. They were well trained.
"Did either of you come?!"
"No mistress."
"You better not have! Lick harder!" she snarled.
They moaned in pleasure and despair, hovering on the verge of orgasm knowing they wouldn't be allowed to come until she gave her permission.
She turned the key and the machine roared to life. It sounded like a T-Rex eating a Harley.
"Get!" "In!" she growled.
I glanced into the back seat wondering how I would fit between the blondes.
"Not there." she said and pressed a button on the dash.
The truck lid popped open and slowly raised.
"There!" she said.
I walked to the back of the car and looked into the trunk. It was lined with black velvet, but had dozens and dozens of raised, blunt metal studs covering it. Not exactly designed for a comfortable ride. I leaned over and looked around the corner of the fender, along the length of the car, up her polished boot, over her pale skin, past her red lips and into her dangerous eyes.
She arched an eyebrow.
I climbed in and closed the lid.............
