Make-up-sex Erotica
A Sexy Couples Short Story by Elizabeth Cage
“We’re lost,” I insisted irritably. “Come on. Lee, admit it.”
Lee didn’t answer. Glaring at the map in the failing light, he finally said irritably, “This map must be wrong.”
I wanted to slap him. Typical man, just couldn’t accept that he’d taken a wrong turn. In the back of my mind, I fleetingly wondered if I’d also been misreading the map, but I wasn’t about to say anything to that effect.
“We’re lost,” I repeated bitterly, wanting to add, “in more ways than one.”
How could we have ended up here, stuck on some god-forsaken dirt track of a road in the middle of nowhere, barely speaking to each other, when only six short months ago we couldn’t keep our hands off each other, screwing passionately at every opportunity?
“I’d better ring Kate, tell her we’ll be late for the party,” I said miserably, reaching for my mobile. “You should’ve written down the directions I gave you,” I pointed out, pulling my jacket round my shoulders. I wished I hadn’t chosen to wear such a skimpy dress, but part of me had hoped it might stimulate Lee’s interest again. We hadn’t had sex for weeks. Now I didn’t feel sexy, I just felt cold.
“I didn’t need to write them down, Alys, I’ve got a good memory. I don’t forget.” And for the first time during that horrible, two-hour drive he looked at me, his eyes hard and sad.
I saw my own pain reflected in them, but continued nevertheless. “Even so, you should have written it down, then you wouldn’t have got us lost –“
“That’s rich, coming from you. Why is it that women are born with this innate inability to follow directions? You couldn’t follow a route if your life depended on it.”
“Bollocks,” I retorted, noticing spots of rain hitting the windscreen, delicately at first, then gathering force, little by little, as the impending storm gathered pace.
“Just shut up, Alys, I need to concentrate,” Lee said, turning off the engine.
As we sat in icy silence, I remembered the day we first met. It’d been a hot, sticky afternoon in late summer. I’d answered his ad in the local paper and I’d phoned immediately, unable to contain my delight.
“You still have it? Great. Can I come round and see it tonight?” I’d asked.
“Sure. Around seven? I’m in all evening.” He’d sounded nice on the phone. Friendly, well spoken, quite sexy. I took down the address, noted it was in the new housing development by the esplanade, just a ten minute drive.
I rang the doorbell of the first floor apartment, and there he was, tall and toned, with cropped, dark hair, and Chinese kanji (which I later learnt meant Truth and Passion) tattooed on each upper arm, “Hi. I’m Lee. You found it okay?”
I nodded. “No problem. You gave good directions.” And my eyes strayed to the casual, loose-fitting drawstring trousers he wore, under which I could just make out the outline of his cock and balls.
He smiled and I stepped into the white-painted hallway and peered into a light, airy living area. It was clean and uncluttered, unlike the untidy flat I shared with my friend, Rachel. At the end of the hallway was a walk-in cupboard, and when he opened the door I noticed that every item was stacked neatly on rows of ordered shelves. He bent down and picked up a clear plastic bag, which protected the item I’d come to buy.
“Here you are.”
I peeled off the packing and moved my hand against its soft, smooth surface.
“Is it what you wanted?”
“It’s Perfect,” I replied, happily. “How much did you say?”
“Oh, give me a fiver. I've hardly used it. Couldn’t get on with it.”
I handed him the money. “I’ve been after one of these for ages. Tried all the charity shops and car boot sales, but I suppose they’re out of fashion now. They’re really good for massaging your back, apparently.”
“Glad you’re satisfied.”
“Just one thing,” I asked, suddenly, “Do you think it will fit? It would be awful if it was too big or too small. Is it a standard size?”
“Don’t worry. One size fits all,” he assured me.
Cradling my beaded wooden car seat cover, I followed Lee back along the hallway. I was unable to resist peering into the airy rooms as we walked past the tasteful framed prints of mountain landscapes and waterfalls, I paused outside the open door to a small, empty room, from which soft, tranquil music drifted. The only furnishing was a long, narrow mat the color of ripe plums.
I was intrigued. “You have a yoga room?”
“It’s my private space, for reflection and practice, which I was doing before you arrived,” he said. “Are you a yoga fan?”
“I love it. I do a weekly class at the local college. All women. A bloke turned up once, but I expect he got put off because he was the only guy. Pity, really.” I found the idea of a man doing yoga a turn-on. All that inner strength and stamina. And all that tantric stuff was supposed to make the sex even better. I added, “I’ve such a stressful job, it’s good to slow down at times. Trouble is, I sometimes fall asleep in the relaxation sessions at the end of the class. Probably snore, too!”
“Let me guess what your stressful job is. Policewoman?”
I shook my head.
“Fire-fighter? Mountain rescue?”
I laughed. “Environmental Health Officer. I’m still learning the job, so at the moment I get to do everything. Pest control, clearing up after dead people, visiting restaurants to check their hygiene...I get to meet lots of roaches and rats.”
“I don’t watch much TV, so I guess I don’t know much about that type of job,” he answered, gazing openly at the outline of my breasts under the thin cotton fabric of my summer dress. I blushed. “So what do you do, Lee?’ I asked, pushing a wisp of hair from my eyes.
“I teach yoga,” he replied. “How do you fancy a long, cool drink?”
I thought that the bulge in his loose fitting trousers seemed bigger than before and I wanted to say, “Actually, I fancy a long, slow fuck.” Instead, smiling sweetly, I replied, “A cold drink would be lovely, thanks. It’s rather hot in here.”
He grinned, showing smooth, white teeth, before disappearing into the kitchen.
I gazed out over the balcony onto the river below. The sun was about to set and the water sparkled beneath its fading golden rays.
“Great view, isn’t it?” I heard him say, and as I turned I noticed that his eyes were focused on my bare, tanned legs. I took the slim glass he offered and sipped the sweet cranberry juice and crushed ice.
“Yoga’s great for keeping fit, isn’t it?” he remarked.
“Yes, and useful for those tricky bondage positions,” I flirted, wondering if he’d spiked my drink. “According to my flatmate, Rachel,” I added hastily. I took an indelicate swig at my cranberry juice.
“What’s your favorite position, then – in yoga, of course,” he teased.
“I tend to remember the ones I can’t do – like the butterfly and the tortoise. I can’t get my legs to open that wide –“
I stopped myself, suddenly self-conscious. I eyed the cranberry juice even more suspiciously.
“Really?” Lee responded. “If you want to show me what happens when you attempt those Asanas, I can try to help.”
He was standing closer, so close I could feel his breath on my neck.
“I don’t know….” I hesitated, torn between caution and lust. I fancied the arse off him.
“We’d need to go back into the yoga room and use the mat,” he said. “This polished wood floor is too slippery.”
I took his hand and followed him into the bare, tranquil room.
“Let me see your triangle,” he said firmly.
“Excuse me?”
“The triangle pose.” He smiled mischievously. “What did you think I meant?”
Tentatively, I opened my legs and stretched my right arm above my head before bending over to the left side, sliding my left hand down my thigh towards my ankle.
“Like this?” I asked, conscious that my dress had risen up my right thigh.
“Open your legs wider,” he instructed. “That’s better.”
I felt a tingling in my clitoris, wondering if he’d get a glimpse of my flesh-colored thong that was so small, it hardly justified its existence.
“Stretch further. Your body should form a straight line, parallel to the floor, from your waist to your fingertips.”
“Perhaps a short dress isn’t really the thing for yoga positions.”
“Actually, I think it’s ideal,” he murmured, moving his hands over my hips and down the curve of my thighs. I responded by pressing my hips back against his throbbing groin.
“And you mustn’t forget to breathe,” he whispered, his lips gently grazing the soft flesh of my ear lobe. I trembled as he lifted my skirt and slid a finger inside the wisp of fabric that divided my receptive pussy. “Are you still breathing?”
I moved my head, letting my cheek brush against his lips, my balance faltering, as he ripped the thong apart.
“I’m going to fall—“ I began, and before I could finish, we tipped forwards on to the non-slip purple mat, limbs entwined, thrashing, hungry. Our wild tongues met forcefully to the peaceful sounds of panpipes, trickling streams, and birdsong, and my fingers impatiently tugged at his drawstring, releasing his rampant cock. I squeezed on its shaft, roughly, urgently, wanting to pull him inside my, to feel him filling up my wet, aching space.
“Bugger foreplay,” I moaned. “I want you now.”
I gasped as he entered, and all the time his hands were moving over me, not leaving my body for an instant, as if not wanting to sever the connection. As I felt my muscles tense against him, reaching towards the orgasm I craved, he groaned.
“Not yet,” he told me. “Be patient.”
Suddenly, he pulled out, but before my cheated cunt could protest, he’d moved swiftly down my body, his tongue replacing his glistening cock in the vacant space. I lost all track of time as he used his tongue and fingers, separately, then together, bringing me repeatedly to the edge, like he was taking me on a long spiritual journey. And it felt so good I didn’t want to come, I wanted it to last, but it was getting harder to resist. Finally he brought me to the point where I couldn’t stop myself, even when he’d lifted his tongue and my pussy clenched, desperate to be touched again.
“Please,” I begged, hardly able to catch my breath. He looked at me and smiled, as if savoring the moment. Then the tip of his tongue dipped down and almost before it made contact, at the feel of his breath alone, I began to convulse, jerking and arching, screaming so loudly he had to gently place a hand over my mouth to muffle the sound in order to not disturb his neighbors. While I was still reeling, he touched me with his fingertips, so lightly, stroking my swollen clit, and within seconds I’d come again and then again. As I lay helpless, exhausted, he plunged his rigid cock into my unresisting pussy and came like a volcano, his face contorted. Then he lay beside me, cradling my head and before we drifted off to sleep to the strains of a distant flute, I muttered dreamily, “You’ve done this before, haven’t you?”
We’d met for a drink the following evening and within a month I’d moved in with him. We were so different from each other, Yin and Yang, I supposed. I was edgy and impatient, thriving on stress, while Lee was always calm and quiet, except during sex, when it was as if all his inner passion was released.
But as time went on, we made love less frequently. This happens to couples, I told myself. We’re going through a bad patch. It’s normal. But as the sex dwindled, I began to feel neglected. I tried to talk to him about it but he bottled up his feelings and I ended up feeling resentful.
One night, when Lee was out teaching, I bumped into Bill, my ex, while out with my mates in a bar. He made my feel sexy again, I got drunk, and found myself having a knee trembler with him behind the bus shelter. Afterwards, I felt wretched and guilty and told Lee the next morning. I expected him to be furious, but he just gave me an icy look and refused to discuss it. And over the last few days, we’d barely spoken to each other. So I was surprised that he’d agreed for us to go to his sister’s house-warming party. But he’d said he was curious to see Kate’s new place, a converted oast house, and meet up with family he hadn’t seen for ages. In view of the tension between us, I wasn’t keen, but then I decided to try one last time to get his attention by buying a sexy new dress that he wouldn’t be able to ignore. Perhaps, when we’d both had a bit to drink at the party, I could sneak him into one of the bedrooms and seduce him.
“Hey, wake up, Alys, you’re supposed to be helping me.”
My eyes snapped open. “Sorry, must’ve drifted off. Anyway, you told me to shut up,” I reminded him.
“That was then. I can’t start the fucking car.” Lee never usually swore, and the unexpected harshness of his tone was both alarming and strangely, erotic. He turned the key again but there was no response. “It’s completely dead.”
“Are you sure it has petrol?”
“Don’t be stupid. I check the petrol and the oil, unlike some people.”
“God, you’ll never let me forget it, will you? Just once, I run out of petrol and…”
“Pull the bonnet catch, I’d better see if I can figure out the problem.”
‘You’ll get soaked, it’s pouring down.”
“That has occurred to me, but I don’t imagine you want to get out and take a look.”
“No thanks,” I said quickly. “Here, you’ll need a torch. It’s really dark now.”
I felt nervous and vulnerable. The road was lined with densely packed trees, the slivers of moonlight shedding an eerie glow. Every horror film I'd ever seen came flooding back, offering unwelcome and unwholesome scenarios.
I craned my head out of the window. “Lee,” I called nervously, “Hurry up. It’s creepy out here.”
“It’s no good,” he said, standing up from over the engine. “I can’t fix it.”
“So, we’re stranded? What now? Shall I call the breakdown people?”
“And wait hours while they try to find us? No thanks. I’ll go and get help. We can’t be far from a house.”
“And just leave me here? No way!”
“You’ll get drenched, Alys. It's pointless both of us getting cold and muddy. Your shoes would be ruined.”
‘I don’t care. You can’t leave me here. Anything could happen.”
“Like what?” He laughed, and for a moment, I hated him. “I won’t be long. Anyway, you’ve got your mobile. Just keep the doors locked.” He started to walk away.
“Lee you bastard, come back,” I called in disbelief, pushing the door open. I swung my legs over the seat and when I stood up my high heels sank deep into the mud, wedging my shoes firmly.
“Shit!” I yelled. “Shit, shit, shit!”
“I think that you’ll find it’s mud, actually,” he said over his shoulder, annoyingly, still walking away.
Furiously, I stumbled after him, leaving my shoes stuck in the mud, my bare feet squelching in the sticky ooze. For a minute, he stopped to look at me. Our eyes locked and all the frustration and rage and guilt of the past few days welled up inside me.
“If it’s over between us, then I’ll give you a farewell fuck you won’t forget in a hurry,” I shouted, angry and aroused at the same time, each emotion fuelling the other.
He stared, amazed, as I kneeled in the mud, unzipped his fly and deftly pulled out his semi-erect cock. I gave him a long, stretching suck, which made him wince, and he tried to push my head away, but I wouldn’t let him stop me. Triumphantly, I felt him growing in my mouth, touching the back of my throat until I thought I’d choke. But I wasn’t going to let him go. As the rain poured down, I continued to tease and torture him, alternating between light flickering strokes and hard sucks. When he was close to coming, I released his cock from my mouth and growled, “You’d better fuck me, you bastard.”
He pushed me back into the mud, and forced my legs open, ripping off my flimsy knickers, his rigid cock finding easy entry. I wrapped my legs around him, pulling him deeper as he pounded and thrusted, and we both grunted like animals, slipping and sliding in the sticky mud. It felt strangely liberating. We both came violently – and quickly.
“I forgot to tell you how sexy you look in that dress,” he panted, stroking my matted hair.
“I thought you didn’t notice.”
“Of course I noticed.” Then, suddenly, finally, he was talking to me. “Alys, I was so jealous but I couldn’t express it. I let it ferment inside me. I knew I was losing you. I’ve never felt this close to anyone and it scared me. So I shut you out. It’d be crazy to split up because you had a drunken fumble. Unless what we just did was really a farewell fuck?”
“That’s up to you,” I replied, trying to absorb the torrent of his words.
“It’s up to both of us,” he said.
We stood up, mud-drenched, dripping and filthy, like creatures from a swamp. Lee took my hand. “We ought to get cleaned up. The house is just along here. Kate’ll be expecting us.”
We walked only a little ways before I could see lights and hear music playing. The party was in full swing – and surprisingly close. A thought crossed my mind.
“Lee, you knew we were this near, didn’t you?”
He just smiled.
“But what about the car?”
“It’ll be perfectly safe.” He pulled two fuses from the main engine circuit out of his pocket. “I had to do something drastic.” He squeezed my hand. “Sometimes, actions speak louder than words.”
Originally published July 2009