Caitlin’s Porn Book
Modern Erotica Romance Fiction
© Copyright Cupideros, Sunday, July 19, 2015
6,267 Words



DESCRIPTION:
A modern Action-Feminist girl wants a man enthusiastic about cunnilingus.  Will she find him?  And can they make their relationship last beyond sex?





CHAPTER 1:



Friday, July 17, 2015
Inside MidTown Plaza Mall
Central Canadian’s Book Shop 1:31 p.m.
Adult Book Stacks



Oval face, ginger haired Caitlin Watson’s yellow sundress with black dots around the hem swayed gently while she pointed her black painted fingernail to a racy section in the four-by-six-inch porn novel describing a male on female fictional characters engaged in cunnilingus as she elbow-nudged her best friend Lola Abbot.  "That's all I want, Lola, is for a man completely interested in doing it, licking my sloppy pussy."  Caitlin didn’t expect Lola to respond right away, Lola took her time when it came to sex.

Caitlin Watson had short curly-ginger hair, fair skin and an optimistic look about her career as a blogosphere writer for a popular women's website covering feminism.  Caitlin called herself an Action-Feminist: a feminist who doesn't talk about feminism, but acts to make her feminist dreams come true.  Even if her feminist dream came true only for herself, she believed in the ideas.   Ideas mattered, especially truthful ideas.  Sure, some women didn’t understand feminism.  Sure several Internet gang-stalking sockpuppets, bots, meatpuppets worked twenty-four-seven astroturfing spurious lies, half-truths, statistics about male on male violence and claiming those statistics justified why feminism did not want equality. 

She even heard one meatpuppet tell a woman running a world-wide rape help resource website that the woman had no right to be running a rape help resource site if she’d had not been raped herself!  Like, one woman has no right to either support or help other women ever.  Such shills, sockpuppets, bots and meatpuppets probably claimed you cannot be against an unjust war unless you were killed in that war!  The positive, but politically naive, feminist woman running the help rape resource website was devastated and quit. 

You raise a girl on a diet of Barbie, Bratz and Monster High porn dolls and tell them boys only want them for sex and you get a politically naïve girl.  Sockpuppets, meatpuppets and astroturfers, in her experience, Caitlin had never known to tell the truth anyway.   Paid liars and their lies about feminism didn’t change the truth of feminism’s validity.  Being the Action-Feminist, she didn’t need the sockpuppets, meatpuppets, bots and astroturfers’ approval to turn off a television show like Game of Thrones because it promoted rape; she just stopped watching it.  She never attended violent sporting events because it proved to men violence supplied the only solution to the world's problems.

Some theoreticals remained theoreticals, which is why Caitlin Watson never fully got too enthusiastic about college because it was all theoretical.  She graduated, of course, with honors.  However, she discovered people said they supported one thing in college, and suddenly forgot all about it after they completed the degrees and landed their jobs.  Not Caitlin.  Life was the real college and we never get that final master’s degree allowing us to stop learning.

"You’d think, Caitlin getting your sloppy pussy eaten would be easy in Saskatoon, Saskatchewan, Canada of all places," replied long dark, curly-haired Lola who cherished her devastating adorable big brown eyes, stylish eyebrows, sexy face, and looked like a porn star.  Lola kept thumbing through a small racy paperback she held portraying a woman and man holding hands and gazing lovingly into each other's eyes.  Lola smirked.  "We are in Saskatoon the king distribution of edibles: wheat, oats, barley, rye, and flaxseed."

Caitlin sighed deeply and flipped the pages to another section of the one porn novel she picked up.  Caitlin wanted one good man; she didn’t need many.  Lola, on the other hand, kept picking up porn novels, flashing through them to glimpse the juicy parts, then put them down and quickly picked up another. 

"Lola, you forgot canola and the Cree Indian local edible red berry Saskatoon was named for."
The two girls looked at one another, Lola's face registered shock.
Lola asked, "You're not--?"
Caitlin smiled and gave a wry shrug of her broad shoulders and returned to reading.
"You--are a--badass."
Caitlin held up one finger, "But not the badass damsel most men seen to take me for."

Caitlin’s oval shape, the traditional female face, attracted bad boys like her previous boyfriend, Riley Palmer.  Her high cheekbones dropped off gracefully into very small barely pink lips.  And her big crystal-blue eyes held an optimistic stare that made every man think she only wanted to talk to him.  Her svelte figure and a small indented waistline neared hourglass perfection except that her shoulders spanned broader than her hips.  Men assumed she fit their badass, leather wearing, thriller chick fantasy who lived on the wild side and rode motorcycles and hated reading.  In fact, Caitlin loved reading, and secretly loved to read porn novels, but never told anyone but Lola about that.  

Seemed as if the whole world had given up and turned to porn in one form or another.  During Caitlin's sixteenth year of life, she gave up on world politics, because of the expanding war in Afghanistan and surge in Iraq.  She turned to the new IPhone as solace for its accessibility to the Internet.  Sure boys learned about negative sex through porn sites faster now, but as a journalist, or maybe blog writer, the promise she held became she’d be able to do something about that trend. 
"I'm looking for something different now.  No more letting men tell me what I am, their fantasy fuck image.  I’m no trash choke doll fantasy fuck desperate for a man.  And I am not going to turn either default bi-female or default lesbian because most men behave like Neanderthals.  I'm going to stick to my ovaries.  Women shouldn't be shiftless and unduly flexible when it comes to men or their values.  Wanting to suck up and be around a man 24/7 just because they’re in a relationship.  I am going pick out a man I like who fits my fantasy fuck image."  Ginger Caitlin looked up toward the bright lights in the bookstore.  Caitlin balled up her left fist as she held the porn novel, her forefinger holding the smutty place in the books last third section.  "He'll be someone . . . young looking, vulnerable, simple, kind--kind of Jim Morrison type.  Courageous person who went against the grain, lost soul type if need be, a real man."   
Lola scoffed.  "Good luck with that--Politics are your true calling Caitlin Watson, not writing a blog.  You positively inspired me for a brief second to look for a new sensitive new millennium man that has yet to show up when we all supposedly shifted consciousness in 2012."
"Yeah well, all I want is simplicity, Lola.  Like my sensible shoes everyone hates."  She raised her left foot and parked her low flat heel edge on the floor."
"Ugggg.  Those are for high schoolgirls.  Black, flat heels, shiny Doc Martins.  Catholic schoolgirl's shoes."
"And I wear elegant cap-toe flats too," she paused, "When I'm going out.  But I like Doc Martins"
"Uggggh how can I forget."  Lola bent her knee and held up her right black high heel behind her black short pencil skirt that contrasted her conservative white top.  "Adult women should wear something different than high schoolers."
"Why?  Men don't wear anything different.  They're still wearing Wingtips, Oxfords, Derbys, Loafers, all flat heels."
"Napoleon's influence.  All men are the same; besides men don't understand that pain is pleasure."
"Men understand being secured when they walk.  How can women gain power when they're teetering around concentrating on thought snippets between seconds worrying about toppling and injuring themselves?"
"Girls never fall and still injure themselves in high heels.  I can tell you stories, Caitlin."
"Yeah well, Riley said he hated my elegant flats and my guitar.  So I dumped him."




CHAPTER 2:
Friday, July 17, 2015
Inside MidTown Plaza Mall
Central Canadian’s Book Shop  1:35 p.m.
Adult Book Stacks



"He didn’t taste you cookie-sandwich anyway."
"No he wasn't.  I can't believe all the blowjobs I gave him." Caitlin put the porn book back.  "I have to get back to work, Lola.  What a waste of lip exercises on Riley."

Lola shook her dark brunette locks behind her back, and several men looked at her.

"How am I doing?  You think one of those power brokers, in their business suits, will come over for a taste?"
Ginger haired Caitlin glanced at the big sign above the men's head in the business book section of the bookstore; before she let her crystal blue eyes slowly drop lower.  She turned back to Lola.  "You have an audience of two."
"Only two," Lola pouted.  "Well soon as you leave, my count will go up."  Lola stuck out her ample chest. "I'll see you later.  Call me."
"Oh-ha ho ho ho!" Caitlin laughed.  "Now, who is the badass damsel?"


Caitlin left and noticed, turning back before she exited the bookstore, one of the handsome men began to approach Lola.  Lola Abbott never lacked for relationships with the opposite sex.  But Caitlin never envied her.  The two girls were after very different men.  Caitlin pursued the new millennium sensitive man and Lola couldn't care less what generation her man came from--so long as he paid attention to her.

Caitlin went back to work and promptly forced all thoughts of relationships out of her mind.  Feminism was all that mattered now and feminism wasn't about men.  It was about women.  What women wanted?  She read other blogs and thought hard about the current rape culture.  She thought about the popularity of romance novels and how they pretty much had not changed in sixty-five years.  Women had careers now.  Women could support themselves to a degree.  Women only needed men for one true thing: affection, love, and sex. 

Caitlin preferred love first and then sex, but life was cruel sometimes and tended to only offer the latter and forget the former.  After work, Caitlin decided she would actually go back and buy that porn novel; it turned her on and her panty crotch kept the evidence in secret.  She returned to the bookstore.

She moved to go into the adult section, which wasn't marked off as "Porn" or "sex books" or even "Adult Books."  Only if one read in that section would they know that's where the porn adult books waited.  She hesitated.  A man was reading in the section now.  He didn't look like a jock.  He wasn't all buffed up on steroids.  He had a slim shape, not an out of shape body, though.  Curly-dark hair and from the side and cute, he looked kinda of like Jim Morrison.  But what if he matched ugliness when he turned around? 

Twenty-four-year-old Caitlin shook her ginger head.  She was tired; the day had been a busy one at the blog.  She liked his clothes.  He wore blue jeans, brown loafers and T-shirt, turquoise.  He chuckled to himself as he read.  He stood proper and straight.  His T-shirt probably read something funny or witty.  He didn't look like the power broker or corporate types she often met.  He looked her age too, not more than twenty-six she guessed.  Problem was he stood right where she stood hours before.  She turned around and looked at the other sections.  She could ask the staff for the book.  She remembered the title.  All I want is simplicity.  Just let me get my porn book and be gone.

After him, the dark curly-haired beau, two people would know she read porn novels.  Advertising she read porn hadn't been on her short-term goal list.  She turned to go away and stopped.  Wait.  I'm a modern woman I can read porn.  This isn't some seedy porn shop with slick floors and an overweight male salesclerk with an armful of tattoos and a bald head gawking at her.  Several women serviced the Central Canadian’s Book Shop and the light-green carpet felt practically massaged her feet.  She decided.

She walked over.  Her yellow sundress with the black polka dot hem brushed around her ankles.  She moved her shoulder purse to the other side and slipped behind the man, ignoring the fact that her sundress brushed against his clothes. 

The man didn't move.  He stared engrossed at the novel. 

Caitlin said softly, "Excuse me . . . I need . . . to get a novel."
"Oh!  Oh!  I'm so sorry."  He turned to look at her and Caitlin's heart jumped.  "How brutish of me?  He stepped aside.  "I got caught up in this art book."  He held up the title.  The very same title Caitlin had been reading earlier.

His T-shirt read "All Work and No Play." 
Caitlin smiled at the saying on his turquoise T-shirt. "Funny," she pointed to his shirt.
But the denim-blue-eyed man still broken out of his concentration said, "This book got some hot scenes in it," he replied without embarrassment.

"Yeah, well . . .  this is the porn section," Caitlin tossed out in a nonchalant voice.  She reached over and picked up another porn book, and put it down in disgust, “Fifty Shades of Disgust.”  She tapped the tops of other porn books.  Caitlin really wanted her porn book.

His voice seemed vulnerable and he had long dark lashes that matched his Jim Morrison curly black locks.  He replied, "An Art book is a more gentile word for it.  I can't exactly go around saying I'm reading a porn book.  Women would hate me for it."  He smiled. 

His handsome face surrounded by those curly-black locks threw her for a second and something twerked below between her legs.  She knew exactly the location of the feeling.  Denying it became impossible.  Finally, he moved more toward the wall and out of her way.  "I-I just call them porn books.  Sex is sex though and I don't generally tell anyone," Caitlin reached for another copy of the book.  "I don't tell anyone but my girlfriend Lola that I read them."

"You're reading--you were reading this book earlier today!" he guessed. 
Caitlin blushed.  Her small lips pursed shut tight.  She became aware of how her forefinger earlier spent time forcing the layers of pages apart at the very section the man read.  She looked over her book, a fresh copy. Unused.  Unopened.  Unread.  Unmarked--virginal.  The pages smelled like fresh cut wood.  She lifted the book to her face for a second.  "I--yeah, well, I happened to like a man who does cunnilingus right."
"She sure has a sloppy one," the lovely denim-blue-eyed man answer, knowing now, they converse sexually in code.  No one but another reader of the same novel might understand their symbols and references.




CHAPTER 3: 
Friday, July 17, 2015
Inside MidTown Plaza Mall 6:20 p.m.
Central Canadian’s Book Shop
Adult Book Stacks



Caitlin's big crystal blue eyes stared at the young man.  Risking all on one gamble, one chance meeting, one highly synchronistic coincidence of a man who looked Jim Morrisonisque and displayed a sensitivity and respect for her sexuality.  She half expected him to start competing with her sexual prowess.  She half expected him to want to prove he had more passion for sex or lovemaking than her, like most men did.  But the man simply said, "she sure has a sloppy one."

Before earlier, she held her ground about dumping Riley; then she experienced her circumstances of aloneness as admirable albeit wanting a bit; now she congratulated herself on self-loving enough refusing to settle just for any penis that came along, with money or without money.

Caitlin responded, "I have a sloppy one, too."
He stared at her.  "Now?"
The delicious relief flooded Caitlin’s veins.  Caitlin felt the twerking picking up speed under her sundress.  Her thoughts turned inward as women did during intense moments like these.  With all their biological processes happening all the time, women knew instantly how to turn inward to sense or feel what was happening inside.  Of course, Caitlin knew this young man knew nothing of what she was doing.  His being, externally based with his penis and balls on the outside, consumed in a completed different manner; he probably noticed his five foot ten, one hundred and seventy pound slim body.  All men thought about the object of desire; something that drew them to want to put themselves next to or inside a woman. 
"Why not?  You're reading the copy I pretty much finger-sexed through earlier."

The man held his smaller sensitive denim-blue eyes in fixed stare at Caitlin and then broke away.  He glanced at her sensible elegant flats.  He turned back to the page and lifted the book to his face.  He sniffed.  He turned the book over to the book spine and noticed the slight crease down the length of the book.  He leaned forward and sniffed the air near Caitlin.   "This does hold your perfume.--just faintly."
"Faintly?"
"I'm Callum Lawson."
"I'm Caitlin Watson."

Both laughed.  Her big crystal blue eyes stared into his small denim-blue eyes.

"We better not marry," Callum said. 
"Introducing Callum and Caitlin," Caitlin said and giggled. 
"Sounds like a fruit blended drink."
"Probably very nutritional though," Caitlin said turning over her porn novel in her sweaty palm. 
"Uhmmm I work at the 33rpm and More Record Shop,” Cullum said, “around the corner in the mall."
"I know the place.  I-I've haven't been in there in a long while.  Do you know you look a little like Jim Morrison?"
"Americans say I'm Jim Morrison's clone."  He started laughing.  “Like the Illuminati can manage doing anything good.”  And he grasped the book with both hands, "I'm going to keep this copy.  I have to go now.  I'll see you later."

Caitlin felt unsure.  She wanted a lost soul.  A vulnerable man. Vulnerable men don't make the first move.  "How?  How will you see me later?" Caitlin said, stepping a bit closer to Callum.

Callum stood frozen.  His long black eyelashes looked down at the floor.  He didn't bow his head, though.  He wasn't a wimp.  Caitlin hated wimps.

"I can't talk at the record store; my boss is a jerk."
"You have a phone." She held out her IPhone 
"Yeah." He looked around nervously.  "I have to go."  He rattled off his number and left, smiling.   He stopped for a second and holding the porn book up to his mouth, he said, "Text me when you’re naked."

He went up to the cashier clerk lady.
"That sure is a romantic section today," said the lady salesclerk, Caitlin overheard as she waited for Callum to buy his book. Their book.
"Yes.  Art books always draw a crowd," he said bashfully and left, quickly taking confident, quick strides as his slim body disappeared around the corner of the F2 Fashions shop.

Caitlin went to the cashier.  "Good art book section."
The checkout lady gave a knowing conspiratorial smile to Caitlin. 


Caitlin resisted going by the 33rpm and More Record Shop.  Her potential beau had a jerk for a boss anyway.  She remembered what time the 33rpm and More Record Shop closed and decided to call him after work.




CHAPTER 4:
Friday, July 17, 2015
Living Room 7:35 p.m.
Caitlin's Apartment



Caitlin laughed and laughed.  "You slut!  Both you and I picked up men in the porn section of the MidTown Plaza Mall Central Canadian’s Book Shop.  They'll probably have mall cops standing around next time to see that we hookers don't return."
Lola teased back, "You're such a badass, ginger-haired bitch."
"That's practically what the salesclerk lady said to Callum when he bought his art book."
"She didn't say that shit to me, when I bought mine."
"You look like a porn star--you didn't buy yours anyway.  Knowing you, you let the man buy it for you."
"He's the man.  He's supposed to spend his money on me."
"Lola! This is a new millennium.  You know the price we girls have to pay for men buying us--buying us things."
"You maybe.  However, I can hold my ground."
"I'm going to pick up Callum after work at the 33rpm and More Record Shop?"
"Really?"
"Why not?"
"And his girlfriend?"
"He's got no girlfriend.  Guys always pine about women not taking the initiative.  Now I'm going to do it."
"I guess it makes all the difference in the world now that he's seen your sexual fantasy."
"You bet."




CHAPTER 5:
Friday, July 17, 2015
Outside MidTown Plaza Mall 9:45 p.m.
Outside in Mall Parking Lot



As the MidTown Plaza Mall closed, only one exit remained opened.  Caitlin waited.  She lightly caressed her small barely pink lips.  Maybe Callum's member was huge.  That was always the fun part; you never knew what package a man had underneath his pants.  She wanted to surprise Callum.  A woman can tell a lot about a man she surprises by taking the initiative.  If he hated it, then they'd never reach coupledom.  "All I want is simplicity.  Callum.  Callum!"
"Heyyyyyyyyyyyyyy!  The porn mall chick."
"Want a ride?"
"Back to your place?"
"You can make me sloppy again."
"O-kay.  I've never had a girl pick me up before."  He hopped into her black SUV.  "I never had a girl pick me up who wore Doc Martins either."
"You don't like a girl in Doc Martins?"
"No they're sensible shoes.  I want a woman who can engage me in conversation, not concentrate on falling on her tush."
"Because I'm a flats, Doc Martins type of badass Princess."
He laughed.  "I guess I should feel cheap, letting you pick me up, but I don't."  He pulled out his porn novel, their porn novel from his messenger bag.  Afterwards, he retrieved his copy of the Doors' “Light My Fire” (1967) album.
"I love that album."
"Who doesn’t?  It was practically the 1967 anthem to the 60s rock generation.  It's my favorite too.  I don't think it's got a fuck rhythm to it but we can try."
Caitlin looked both ways before pulling out into the traffic.  She reminded herself.  This is not the time to blush.  I’m a modern woman she said to herself silently.




CHAPTER 6:
Friday, July 17, 2015
Living Room 10:01 p.m.
Caitlin's Apartment



"Let me see it?"  His voice flowed over Caitlin’s goose bump skin on under her yellow sundress and her twerking spread-eagle pussy lips.
Caitlin relaxed and raised her yellow sundress.  She was still wearing her Doc Martins.  He didn't seem to mind at all.  She had wanted to change, but she spent the hours between going home after meeting Callum and picking him up in sprucing up her apartment and bedroom.

She spent years wanting someone just like this; now she had it.  All she wanted was simplicity.  She didn't want to hesitate and play all kind of nonsense girl games society raised her on to tease Callum.  Her gut told her, he was too vulnerable to pass the test and would just walk out defeated.  This new territory for her sexuality created a nervous excitement that drove her passion more than the passions of rough sex.  In rough sex, all she had to do was be an object.  Let herself be used—more like abused used.  In taking the initiative, thrills and possibilities reached her mind, never occurring before.
"There she is?"  Caitlin waited with bated breath for a disparaging comment, a concessionary agreement of further pleasure to be wrung from her being.  She waited for him to balk at eating her out.
"Bare-naked and all fluttery like a butterfly."  He never raised his denim-blue eyes from the gap between her slender legs.

Caitlin knew better than to contradict his symbolism.  That's what was in their passage of the porn book.  She grew wetter as Callum neared.  Her fragrant pussy seemed to open up more and in anticipation of new sensations to arrive. 

Callum's touch was soft.  Even with his hard skin from flipping through CDs, DVDs and old cardboard vinyl 33 rpm albums, his touch retained a manly sense through the softness.  He touched her as if he was lifting cotton balls.  His hands stroked up and down the length of her slender legs as he admire her sloppiness.
"I have a sloppy one."
"MMMMMMMMMmmmmm."

He caressed up her tummy and lowered his head to kiss her thighs.  When he began to lick her wet, sloppy pussy, more of Caitlin's girl juice gushed out and Callum’s tongue flattened and licked it all up.  Caitlin wasn't exactly sure if this was a good thing, because usually she used her girl juice to lube up her clit.

Callum made delicious eating sounds and licked around her pussy before moving across her lips in a zip, zag, and zag pattern.  She read about the pattern.  Feeling it pushed her eyes into the backs of her head and she held her legs open, trembling under duress.  She desperately wanted to clamp her legs around Callum's head, but he solved that.

He reached out like some swimmer doing the Butterfly stroke in a swimming pool and pulled her slender, goose bumped thighs around his ears.  She imagined the sound of her fish tank's air pump going silent as Callum held her legs tight and continued to lick her sloppy pussy.

She heaved and gasped.  She reached under her yellow sundress and stroked and mauled her thirty-two-inch B breasts.  Her nipples stiffened hard and perfectly round and flat.  Her nipples would have made the perfect mold for plastic baby nipple milk bottles.  Caitlin pressed hard on the flatness of her nipples that would one day sprout fresh pure breasts milk and hunched her lower belly forward pushing more of her engorged labia’s into his waiting, eager mouth, and zig, zagging hot wet tongue.

He had asked to see her sloppy pussy, but now Caitlin understood what he really meant.  He meant let his tongue see and his plump lips see her sloppy pussy.  Just as in their porn novel’s cunnilingus scene.  Both the man and woman found themselves in a dream world of long, long, long cunnilingus delight.  Him providing the pleasure and she receiving it, she gladly received. 

The pain of waiting for her orgasm was indeed pleasure and Caitlin's side part of her Doc Martins dug into Callum's hard back and she humped against him again and again, hard, gasping.  She thrashed her ginger-haired head back and forth.  Her ginger short, ear-length, hair whipped back as she moaned and thrashed back and forth on the black living-room couch pillow.  Callum curly-black hair caressed her inner thighs  On his knees comfortably on the thick blue carpet, Callum tightened his hands and arms grip around flexing tension-filled thighs.

His face must be terribly wet now Caitlin imagined in glimpses as she opened her eyes to watch him.  She loved watching a man eat her out, but it had only happened once and always too short. 

Callum took his time. 

Callum found all of Caitlin Watson's vacant spots, neglected spots from eight years of lovemaking.  His tongue pushed and pulled while his lips plucked and deliciously pinched at her outer labia.  His tongue played a fine exquisite tune on her guitar-pussy lips.  Her pussy lips felt more engorged and filled than ever before.  She needed to cum.  The explosion of her scream and juices soon failed to concern her.  He loved eating her pussy.  He relished in the smell and the vulnerability of her wanting her intense release. 

Then she opened her crystal blue eyes wide, as Callum held her tighter refusing to let her bud of joy coyly retreat into her soaked curl of excited flesh.

She came hard.  Her toes extended out.  Her toes spread.  Her calves quivered and their quivering rose up to her inner thighs.  Caitlin closed her eyes again as the fireworks behind her eyes visualized what was happening inside her belly.  Deep in her lower belly and under her hips, release came.  Finally, Caitlin grasped her red hair and screamed, "I'M CUMMING!"



CHAPTER 7:
Friday, July 17, 2015
Living Room 10:17 p.m.
Caitlin's Apartment



Callum slapped her damp thighs.  "I'll get back to you later." 

He rose up and climbed onto the couch and the curious expression in his denim-blue eyes made Caitlin grin.  “I love how you made the gurgling sound of your fish tank filter disappear.”
Caitlin pau sed.  First, she had to gather her senses back up to her brain.  Then she realized what he said.  "You really like eating my pussy."  She shook her head incredulously. 
"I like cookie-nookie.  I always have.  You can't necessarily go around bragging it around it to guys.  I mean most guys don't like it.  Because," he hurriedly added, "they don't understand how a love cookie works."

He rested for a second and hopped up.  "I'm going to play this record from the doors. ‘Come on Baby Light My Fire.’  You can try to get your small barely pink lips around my cock if you want or we can make love."

A choice.

Here was the first man in eight years who actually gave her a choice between sucking his cock and fucking.  This new sensitive millennium man understood history.  Most women after being demanded to suck a cock and being fucked without cunnilingus gave in to neglecting their needs.  Certainly Callum should be rewarded for being different, but not now.

She wanted to fuck him first.  She wanted to see his denim-small-blue eyes closed tight against the pleasure of her strong pussy power.  Something inside her heart and gut said Callum could take it.




CHAPTER 8:
Friday, July 17, 2015
Bedroom 10: 47 p.m.
Caitlin's Apartment



Caitlin drew her yellow sundress over her head and tossed it to the floor.  "Sorry, Callum, but I'm so horny to fuck you, I can't wait."  She left her black Doc Martins on.
"This is how you normally are, one sloppy girl through and through," he chuckled.  "With a fetish for black Doc Martin shoes along the side."
"Yes."  She grabbed his hand and led him into her peach and pink decorated bedroom.  "Text me when you're naked.  When you said those words to me Callum,” Caitlin said after turning to stare into his small denim-blue eyes.  "I just had to fuck you.  You really want a sex badass princess." 

She kissed him.  She threw her arms around his neck.  Her hands touched her own elbows as she pressed her lips to his plump lips.  His long black eyelashes flirted with her nose and the gap between her left eye.  She had run her hands through his curly-black hair once during cunnilingus, and she planned to do it again as they fucked.  Her on top, of course, only made sense.  He read porn.  He read the kind of porn she liked; her being a modern woman. 

Caitlin’s guitar stood in the background next to her closet door.  She didn't know whether he played the guitar or not, but if not, she'd teach him how to play.  She just had to have him, give herself to him completely.

Callum would soon be her boyfriend.   His lost soul soon would be appeased.  She pressed her svelte near hourglass body against his slim, but not bony body.  He had said on the car ride over, he didn't believe in pumping iron or taking steroids to get bigger.  He wanted his own testosterone to energize his body for life not some synthetic bottled testosterone made in the lab.  He was all natural.  He was all heterosexual and wanted an all natural all heterosexual woman like Caitlin.

"I like a badass princess.”  He slightly touched her thigh.  “All the other men can have the badass damsel's in distress."

Caitlin stopped kissing him.  Her tongue had moved deep within his mouth and his tongue inside hers.  He had minty tasting breath.  She released her grip on him and pulled him onto her big queen-size bed with white roses and a water scene painted lake sheets.  "My girlfriend Lola said all men are the same.  I can gladly tell her--she's wrong."  Caitlin's bottom bounced off the bed as they fell down to the bed.

Callum bounced next to her lying flat. They’d lie back adjusting themselves on the bed.  .  He rolled onto his back. 
Caitlin straddled on top of him.  "I got you Jim Morrison."
"Hold me tight.  Just remember, I turn back into Callum the 33rpm Record Store clerk at midnight."  He chuckled.
"There are no fairy tales for men.  You can't turn back.  You're mine forever."
"You mean . . ."
"If you want us to be a couple, Callum."

He pulled her down fully on top of him.  They kissed.  Their chests kissed.  Their hips kissed.  Their legs kissed.  "I am tired of being alone.  I want to be your boyfriend."
"We're a couple Callum, but I warn you, the oversexed badass Princess comes with the package.  And some days, I morph into a cooking princess and want to make you meals.  And some day I might want to waddle around holding our genes tight in my lower belly."  She looked askance at handsome Callum.  She watched his small, denim-blue eyes stare into her own fixed staring big-crystal-blue eyes.  "Can you handle that?"

"I can, I will.  I shall."

The girl juices running down Caitlin's legs signaled her readiness.  She pulled down Callum's blue jeans, while he removed his "ALL WORK, NO PLAY" T-shirt. 
"Oh-ha-ho-ho, yes remove that terrible shirt.  You're going to play for a while in this house Callum Lawson."

Caitlin closed her big crystal blue eyes; she sank her soaking-wet pussy down onto his hardness, sinking and absorbing, sinking an absorbing his throbbing hardness for a long time. 

Callum ahhhhhhed.
Caitlin Mmmmmmmmmm and then she bit her small barely pink lower lip.

She finally opened her eyes as they met groin to groin.  "This is play."

"You are heaven.  Close to it anyway."  The Doors music played in the background as Caitlin held herself stiff sitting on his waist.  She rubbed her short slender fingers through his curly-black hair.  She let Callum move up further inside her, 

His hips pumped up and down.  She watched his belly heave.  She bent down and kissed his nipples.  She rose up and licked her lips as he penetrated deep up inside her to her cervix, which withdrew backward and Callum went even further inside her.  She kept growing deeper and deeper and Callum followed her body growing longer and longer it seemed.  His hardness slicked by her ovulating juices pouring out over-the-top of his penis head.  She knew her inner workings.

His penis's lubrications helped, but her ovulating girl cum soon coated his entire lovemeat, thrusting hard inside, rubbing along the entire length of her cunnyhole.  Delicious feelings rubbed off from their sex organs and spired upward and downward as they fuck, fucked, fucked.  She shook her thirty-two-inch B breasts wantonly back and forth, moving her shoulders, giving him the delighted tease of his life.

Callum went ridge.  He bit his lip and held back.  He did not cum.
"Awesome," Caitlin said, as she bore down harder and started fucking him faster and faster.
Soon they were unable to stop grasping their bodies into oneness and they pressed long and hard, fucking for three frenzied minutes until they came exhausted as the long album song finished playing.


"I'm afraid that's enough playing for the night," Callum said.  "I got to go to work and open up the record store tomorrow."
"I thought your record shop boss was a jerk?"
"He is, but even a jerk, can't be at two places at once."  He waited as Caitlin rolled off.

Caitlin collapsed next to Callum.  "He's going to a convention of something?"
"He gets records signed by the artist.  He's a memorabilia collector.  He'll retire someday and I'll take over the shop."
"How can you be so sure?"  Caitlin gently rested her hand on Callum's heaving, sweaty chest.
"He's my dad."  Callum laughed.
Caitlin balled up her fist.  "You--you had me being all sympathetic to you and your job and you're working for you dad!"
He rose up on his elbows and stared down at the beautiful ginger-haired, oval face Caitlin.  "I didn't say a lie.  He is a jerk.  You didn't fuck me out of sympathy, though."
Caitlin kissed him and hugged him.  He felt warm; they felt warmer together than lying apart on her water scene sheets as a new water scene started under Caitlin’s tush.  "Of course not!  I don't do sympathy, empathy or any -athy fucks.  A man deserves what I give him." 
He collapsed back on the bed.  "That's what I thought.  "Now I said I'd get back to you later."  He patted her widespread wet butterfly pussy lips.  "Come on, hop on my face."
"Now?"
"Better do it before I change my mind or wring a concession out of you to teach me how to play your guitar."

Caitlin grinned and hopped her badass princess self up, spread her long legs across Callum licking flicking outstretched tongue and settled down.  Wet ginger-hairs on her sloppy pussy grew damp again, more damp from inside lubrications pouring out and outside lubrications from Callum’s agile tongue.

She closed her eyes and let another newer round of unexperienced pleasure swallow her whole.


--THE END--




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