Date: Thu, 21 Aug 2003 03:12:18 +0000 From: Tony Ryan Subject: Locked-Out, Lucked-Out This is a work of fiction. No resemblance to anyone living or dead. Do not read this if you are not over 18. Play safe in real life. You know the rest. I'd really appreciate your responses and suggestions if you want a second chapter. -- At 35 I had been given an early retirement (the proper term would have been "laid off" if I hadn't known the burial grounds of so many bodies), and needed a rest before looking for another job. At about 8 AM my boyfriend kissed me on the cheek (both sets) and quietly left for the airport. He's a motivational speaker, quite successful and very charismatic. We met at some crapola convention a few years ago. One look at his slicked-back blonde hair, 6'3" muscular build, goofy smile and piercing blue eyes, and he was piercing me back in my hotel room the very same night. In that expertly tailored suit, he was a handsome man. Out of that expertly tailored suit, he was a god, striking this mere mortal with his scepter almost as soon as I shut the door. These motivational guys are so narcissistic that I worried he'd scream out his own name during sex, but once I was swinging back and forth on his fat, piledriving, rock-hard 10 inches, he could have called out to Phyllis Diller for all I cared. I wouldn't say we're in love, but we're not a bad match. While he was out of town, I planned for a few days of sleep. Jerry is a very go-go-go guy; he'd never let me snooze even half a day away. Jogging, going to museums, taking classes, fucking my brains out -- he always finds energetic activities to fill our free time. My chances for laziness were rare, and I cherished every one of 'em. The sun floated in from the picture window, warming my nude form. Sprawled out across the bed, Jerry's pillow between my thighs, I glanced at the clock. Nearly noon. "UP UP UP!!!" Jerry screamed in my mind. Fuck, he's here even when he's not here. Reluctantly, I crawled out of the silk sheets and padded my way to the bathroom. My reflection beckoned me while I waited for the shower to heat up. Sparkling, green, bedroom eyes (I guess they were bathroom eyes at the moment), accompanied by lush lips, a good complexion, and a slightly large nose which offset my otherwise generically pretty, now lightly lined face. The cinnamon-colored fur on my chest was regularly trimmed, just enough to highlight my meaty, pink nipples and decent four-pack. I had to give Jerry credit for getting that middle-aged paunch off of me. Trailing downward, my equally trimmed bush led to a 5 inch, slender penis which when teased into a happy state, was 7 and 1/4 inches with a wicked curve to the left. My balls were shaved smooth and pretty average-sized. As I began to rub down my pecs, a pang of desire hit. Jerry refused to have sex the day before his speaking engagements, because he didn't want to sap away any energy. Guess I'd have to wank that extra energy of mine off in the shower. Just as I stepped in, a series of loud knocks pounded against the front door. Probably one of those Jesus freaks. I washed my body, waiting for the noise to stop. Instead, the banging amplified. The neighbors would form a lynch mob after a few more minutes. Cursing, I wrapped a towel around my sopping wet torso and soon flung the door open. Nobody. SO fucking TYPICAL. Not satisfied just yet, I stepped outside, checking for any pranksters. Still no one. Well the water should still be temperate and... *click* Was that the door? Closing? Yes, it was. I tried the handle. Locked. FUCK. Wondering why I felt an all-over breeze, it was only then that I spotted my towel hanging in the door frame, flapping in the air-conditioned breeze...kind of like me. As the panic settled in, I grabbed the end of the towel, tugging and tugging on the coarse fabric. *rippppppp* Mental note: Buy stronger towels. Oh, and...FUCK! I was standing in the hallway, drenched, and all I had to wear a section of tattered green cotton that wouldn't even work as a loincloth. And the super was on vacation. Not that I'd want to see the super wearing this Tarzan of the Bathmats getup anyway, he has enough of an attitude problem. OK, I'll just knock on doors until someone agrees to help. Neighbors don't exactly talk these days, but I know some of these people, or waved at them once, or something. The family two doors down were nice. A 40ish couple and their teenage son. He was kind of a brooder, but what do you expect. The father and son were both pretty hot, one bald and the other with flowing blonde hair. The father occasionally wore jeans and sprouted a massive bulge. Absentmindedly I wondered how much meat his son was packing. I smacked myself in the face. The last thing I needed now was an erection. Standing out here sweaty, wet, totally naked, vulnerable to anyone or anything...OK, now I was definitely sprouting wood. My exhibitisionist fantasies were kicking in. I didn't bother to will the thing down, that would take forever and possibly a large load on the carpet. Covering as much of my suddenly ample crotch area as possible with the flimsy material, I knocked on their door. What to say, what to say... "Hey, dude, this some kind of joke?" Naturally, the resident to open the door would be the teenage son. Out of baggy jeans and shirts. In remarkably good physical shape. In tight boxer briefs. Very tight. Well...what could I say next, aside from "hubba hubba" or "pardon me, I've lost my tongue somewhere on the floor." Oh, yeah. "I-I'm locked out of my place and need to call a locksmith. Got a phone? Please?" Boxer Boy shrugged and opened the door for me. As I walked inside, I contemplated putting the cloth over my back end, but that would have been kind of pathetic. Besides, my ass is my best feature, always has been, and I kind of got a charge out of this pouty kid checking me out. And unless I was getting crazy in my old age, checking me out was exactly what he was doing. My prick was leaking like a faulty pipe by this time. "Catch!" I turned around just in time to grab the cordless phone with both hands. As I did, the grip on my cock-cloth dissipated, leaving me naked in front of a young teenstud I hadn't even exchanged names with, much less anything else. His eyes - hazel, barely visible under the blonde bangs drooping over them - shone with an unholy glee as he studied me head to, um, head. One head in particular. "You're hot for an older dude." Instead of leaving me feeling intimidated, the swagger in this young punk's pose became contagious. I matched his sexy smirk with one of my own. "Kid, are you addressing me or my dick?" He licked his bitable lips, and his underwear seemed to have shrunk. A very fat crown and shaft were visible through the blue, soaked fabric. "Which will gimme an answer?" I laughed. Not knowing what had come over me, I slid my fingers down my chest and abs, finally encircling my crotch. Slowly I stroked, one long tug at a time. "Get me the phone book, let me make this call, and you'll find out." While I watched his tight skater boy ass bound out of the room, I looked forward to what would happen next. Little did I realize just how strange the day would become... -- Please e-mail me at HotStoryLvr@hotmail.com