Stories for When the Sun Goes Down (Sexy Anthology) (10 page)

“I’m coming.”

“No, hold off.”

“I can’t.”

 “Just a few more seconds.”

“Shit, it’s too much.”

“Try, otherwise we’ll have to start over.” I looked up at
Theo Horton’s face hanging over the side of my custom-made bench. His thick
black eyebrows had knotted over his scrunched eyes and his teeth tugged at his
bottom lip. “It’s nearly done,” I encouraged. “It’s quick setting this stuff,
just think about your Gran knitting or something.”

A muscle flexed in his cheek and his fingers paled as he
gripped the white padding just inches from my upturned face.

I braced under the weight of the seaweed-based moulding
paste I’d positioned against his erect cock poking through a hole in the bench.
The bucket had to be kept dead still to get a perfect cast of his penis, and
much as it would be a perk of my unusual job to witness his pleasure, I knew
from experience a shot of cum in the mold would distort the end result and we’d
be back at square one, redoing his cast.

I studied the clock above the closed door to the shop
front. I waited fifteen seconds and then said, “Time. Pull slowly up from the
bench in a straight line.”

“Thank fuck for that.” He lifted his hips upwards, opened
his eyes and fixed his brooding, somewhat glazed focus on mine. “Oh, shit.” He
suddenly winced and scrabbled to face the shelves containing body molds at
various stages of completion. His broad shoulders hunched and he grabbed his
dick as a violent shudder snaked up his spine.

I clutched the bucket to my chest and straightened from my
squat position under the bench. My ears pricked with delight as his deep grunt
filled the studio. He tried to internalize a moan but he was a big,
testosterone-fuelled man and there was nothing he could do to stop even
harnessed pleasure rattling like an echo around the room.

“Why did you look at me like that?” he muttered, grabbing a
handful of the tissues I kept next to the bench.

“Like what?” My heart rate was racing so loud I was sure
he’d be able to hear it.

“All pretty and girly.” He didn’t look at me as he wiped
himself clean. “Shit, that never happens.” He stood and tucked his still
impressively big penis into his boxers and pulled up his jeans. “I’m usually in
perfect control.”

“Of course,” I said, struggling to maintain professionalism
as he stepped round the bench and towered over me. “But it’s good you were so
near the edge of orgasm when we took the casting.” I nodded down at the white
chalky substance revealing the perfect indent of his erect cock. “It means
we’ve immortalized you at your most… spectacular.”

His irritated expression cracked into an amused grin.
“Yeah, Emma will like it.”

“She’s a lucky girl.” As soon as the words fell from my
mouth I realized it had been the wrong thing to say. “I… I mean… what I wanted
to say is… you’re a very thoughtful man, to think of her needs at a time like
this.” I tried to shift my gaze from his intense scrutiny but he was staring
straight at me.

“Yeah, well, I need her to have something to play with
while she’s backpacking.” He stepped closer and his musky male scent encircled
me, a hot cloud of recently released desire lying in the air like salt blowing
on an ocean breeze. “I don’t want her running off with a surfer dude, do I?”

“I’m sure she wouldn’t.”

He reached out and caught a wild, red ringlet that had escaped
my ponytail. “I’m just wondering what
I’m
going to play with while she’s
gone.” He tucked the wayward curl behind my ear. “I’ve never cheated but…”

I swallowed, my mouth suddenly dry. “But you’re a man,” I
said, stating the fact my hormones were screaming about. “With needs, perhaps
Emma could come to
Making Shapes
and get a body mold done for you, I do
a great range of very intimate, very user friendly products.”

He stepped away with a derisive snort. “Not my thing. I
prefer hot flesh writhing under me.” He reached for his wallet, his expression
all business. “How much do I owe you?”

“Nothing for now.” I walked over to a long, steel counter
and placed down the bucket with its precious contents. “You can settle up when
you collect the finished cast.”

“When will that be?”

“In about a week, is that all right?”

“Yep, she goes in ten days so a week should be fine.”

He pulled open the door and strode from the studio and into
the front of my shop. My eyes, like magnets, were drawn to his perfect, denim-encased
rear. I smoothed my dusty hands together imagining what his skin would be like
to touch, warm and soft but at the same time bubbling with powerful muscles
lurking just below the surface. I’d meant what I said about Emma being a lucky
girl. Theo Horton was one hell of a man and if he were mine there was no way
I’d be hopping off to Australia for six months. No way on earth.

Two weeks later I held Theo Horton’s cock in my hand as
November rain whipped the skylights above my studio. Theo hadn’t been back to
collect his body molding so I guessed Emma had come to her senses about leaving
such a prime specimen all alone.

I thought unenthusiastically about the lonely evening ahead
in my small King’s Road flat. I really should start charging customers when they
came for their sittings. That way I might make enough money to buy somewhere
bigger, or even take a holiday and get some sunshine.

I sighed and passed the cock from one hand to the other. I
was pleased with the finished product. I’d spent a considerable amount of time
perfecting the deep rose-petal shade, shadowing the bulging, twisting veins
along the shaft and adding his two small freckles onto the wide smooth head,
just to the right of his slit. He was circumcised and I liked that, his cock
looked neat and clean, and with the new glaze it felt smooth as glass when I
ran my fingers up and down the length of it.

I curled my thumb and index finger around the base, just
above where the first inch of his ball sac were molded. My fingers wouldn’t
meet; his trunk was so wide, so thick. My breath quickened as I imagined him
penetrating me. How would he fit? I was only five feet two, and he must be well
over six feet and with all that raw power surging behind a hungry penis he’d
surely split me in half. A buzz sparked in my clit. Like a tuning fork tapping
against me, its resonance hummed through my neglected but sensitive flesh. Theo
was on a whole different size scale to me, it was a wonder we were the same
species living on the same planet.

A sharp gust of wind rattled the skylight. I looked up into
the London night and saw the moon peek from a racing cloud before being
engulfed in blackness once more. Maybe I should take Theo’s dick home tonight,
give it a trial run, test its dildo qualities and trial my abilities to take it
into my body. Emma would never know, Theo would never know. Even if he
collected it tomorrow, it would wipe clean good as new
—
a quick
rinse and a polish and no one would be any wiser.

I bounced its substantial weight in my palms and a new thought
popped into my head. Would it fit in my mouth? I didn’t know if my jaw could
stretch that wide, would my teeth part sufficiently to house such a beast.

I glanced at the door leading to the shop front, it was a
little ajar, but anyone shouldering the weather and passing my display windows
wouldn’t see into the studio, and I’d locked the front door earlier when I’d
shut shop. I swept my tongue over my lips. Curiosity eating me up the way I
wanted to eat him up. I would give it a quick try here, just to see.

I lifted the dick to my face, slit upwards. It shone like
marble in the stark overhead lights and reflected the steel shelves to my left.
I closed my eyes and let the cool head press against my top lip, poked out my
tongue and rimmed the groove of skin under the base of his glans. I tried to
remember Theo’s heady mix of pheromones swirling around me to imagine his
flavour; musky and manly, erotic and hot.

I couldn’t wait any longer. I stretched my jaw wide and
slid the head onto my tongue. My jaw gave a soft click as he smoothed in. My
knees turned weak and I pictured his face contorted with the effort of not
coming; eyes squeezed shut, teeth dragging at his lip and his breaths sharp and
shallow. I gripped my breast as I slid him to the back of my throat and tweaked
my nipple to a painful point through my sweater. He hit delicate flesh and as I
struggled with my gag I imagined his hands on me, fondling my breasts, cupping
the nape of my neck, stroking the corners of my poor stretched lips.

I moaned, slid him out and then back in again, the dildo warming
and coating in my saliva, its eternal hardness a celebration of my craft. I
reached to the waistband of my jeans, popped the metal button and shoved my
fingers down my knickers. I kept my eyes tight shut, only the sound of the wind
and the rain intruded upon my fantasy of having Theo thrusting into my mouth.

My clit was on fire, swollen and demanding attention as my
fingertips began deep, urgent rotations. I didn’t know if I could stay standing
even though I was leaning against the counter. My legs were like jelly, my
spine desperate to curl forward for the pressure and rhythm of my own
ministrations. I opened my eyes to the stark light and spotted the molding
bench. I needed to lie down but that would put me in view of the shop front. I
should just shove the cock in my bag and head home where I could play to my
heart’s content. But the cock had come to life slipping in and out my mouth,
teasing me with how delicious it would feel shunting in and out of my pussy.

Fantasy was what I needed… now.

I took a few wobbly steps to the door, banged a flat palm
against it to shut it nearly flush then staggered to the bench pulling at my
jeans zipper as I went. I needed them off, or at least round my ankles to have
any chance of accommodating this monster.

My whole pussy thrummed and I felt dizzy with the thought
of what I was about to do. I gave the cock one last slide down my throat,
really deep this time so I could hardly drag air in. My fingers found the
entrance of my pussy and I shoved up, surprised by how wet and swollen I was. I
surged in, over and over stretching in preparation. Theo’s cock was all I could
think of.

BANG.BANG.

The glass front door of the shop rattled under the force of
a fist.

BANG.BANG.

My eyes flew open and I stared at the not quite shut wooden
door between me and the shop front. Oh my god! A mental picture of what I must
look like invaded my brain. Trousers around my ankles, one hand shoved up my
pussy and a dildo pounding the back of my throat.

I pulled Theo’s dick from my mouth and dropped it on the
bench. With wet fingers I yanked up my jeans, struggled with the zip and wiped
my lips on my sleeve. I took a shaky step forward.

“Open up, I know you’re in there.” A deep voice penetrated
the shop.

I stopped my in my tracks.

“The studio lights are on, open up.”

BANG. BANG.

A wave of nausea swept through my stomach as a wash of
anticipation flooded my pelvis. I smoothed back my hair, set my face to
business mode and pushed into the darkened shop front.

Theo Horton was standing at the door, broad palms pressed
against the wet glass and his shadowed figure backlit by an amber streetlamp as
wind lifted leaves and litter around his feet. He wore a long trench coat and
rain dripped from his hair, hung in his eyebrows and ran from his chin.

“Making Shapes is closed,” I said, walking toward the door.

“Open up.” He glared at me through twinkling drips, his jaw
set obstinately. “Now.”

“Why?” I put my hands on my hips determined to project an
equal degree of stubbornness. For all he knew I could have been in the middle
of a very intimate molding or a very intricate piece of artwork.

“Emma has gone.”

“But you didn’t collect your cock… I mean your… your body
sculpture.”

“There was no point, we finished, or rather
I
finished it, with her.”

“You did. Why?”

“Can we have this conversation inside?” His scowl deepened
and his gaze bored into me. “In case you hadn’t noticed the weather’s not so
good out here.” As he spoke he was lit with a brilliant flash of lightening
followed by a violent clap of thunder which shook my window display sculptures
on their stands.

Startled, I jumped forward. Scrabbled with the lock and
tugged the door open. Theo stepped in along with several tumbling leaves that
settled around his feet.

“Thanks,” he said as I re-locked the door.

I shrugged. “What can I help you with, Mr Horton?”

A cocky smile tickled one side of his mouth and with a rush
of panic I wondered if he’d seen me with his glazed cock in my mouth and my
fingers jamming into myself, preparing for a trial entry of his body art. But
no, how could he have seen? There were only skylights in the studio and the
door had been more or less shut. I beat down a blush. He couldn’t possibly know
what I’d been doing when he’d arrived.

“Well to start with I’d like my body molding, if it’s
ready.”

“Yes, of course.” I indicated for him to go into the
studio.

He turned and walked ahead of me. The eye magnetism to his
butt returned and even though he was wearing a long coat I couldn’t help feasting
on the thought of those hidden orbs of delectable flesh.

As we stepped into the brightly lit room my lust frazzled
brain suddenly remembered where I’d left the molding
—
abandoned
on the central bench, flattening a thick crease in the sheet my shuffling naked
buttocks had created.

“Is that it?” His eyes widened. “Is that mine?”

“Er, yes.” Its deep pink colour looked startling against
the crisp white sheets and it shone brightly, sparkling as if dripping with moisture
—
my
moisture.