Sooner

Sooner
By Psyche Summer

Master Drake’s bar tab had reached an all-time high. But drinking down his wages was a fair price to pay if he hoped to catch the attention of the new waitress at Cooley’s. Besides, there were worse ways to spend a Friday night than in the company of good friends, good Guiness and very good women. Or in this case: woman. Mary. That was her name.

She was a tall girl, slim and pretty. Master Drake could see her easily as she snaked between the crowded tables of the neighborhood pub. She was hard to miss, actually. It wasn’t that she was a knock-out exactly, but there was something amazing about her none-the-less. She was young, perhaps in her early twenties, but she looked a little bit younger. Perhaps it was the way she wore her hair… like a cartoon character, high on her head, a long, spiraling ponytail of light brown hair, a fringe of wispy bangs that despite her best intentions, and her bobby pins’ best efforts, came fluttering across her face and into her eyes. Her eyes themselves were charming; they were the color of luck, and her smile… her smile well, the best thing I can say about it was that it was lovely and sincere. When she smiled, which was often, her smile would light up the room… make you feel special… like you had really made her happy or something.

So that is how it is… why Master Drake is so distracted, ignoring conversations that would normally interest him: the petty squabbles between his buddies, Nate, Nick and Mitch. Furious debates over whether Tron will suck; whether Sandra Bullock is indeed “hot” and the epic battle, a feud to almost end friendships: was Halle Berry miscast as Catwoman? Of course she was, that’s Master Drake’s opinion, but tonight he is not in the mood for the endless prattle of that inane Berry apologist Nick; hands down the role should’ve gone to Elizabeth Hurley… or Heather Graham at least, but the conversation is an old one, and Master Drake has more captivating things to dwell on.

Like Mary’s ass.

He watches it as she roves between the tables, bending now and then to better hear. His blue eyes linger on its supple curves which press as she leans to pick up some glasses, stretching the thin khaki twill of her teeny-tiny shorts. He admires the ride of her breasts, clad under the winking shamrocks strategically placed on her t-shirt. The tiny cinch of her waist… When suddenly it dawns on him: he knows her.

“C’mon Jack” says Nick, nudging Master Drake in the ribs, “tell this moron it wasn’t Halle’s fault the movie sucked.”
Master Drake sighs. “Nothing against Halle. It was the story of the movie itself that sucked. It was 'Catwoman' of DC Comics...but the character and storyline…”
“See!”
But Master Drake is not paying attention. In his mind he is trying to remember where he has seen Mary before.
“You know her bud?” His friend Mitch is leaning in while Nick and Nate argue.
“Yeah…” he begins…
“She one of your… you know….?”
“No.” he responds wistfully. “She is not one of my pets. Though sweet Jesus, she could be a prized pet of mine!”
“Well, don’t look now Jack-o, here she comes.”

Master Drake straightens himself a little as she approaches, willing his eyes not to wander down to her very pleasing chest.

“Another round boys?” she asks, clearing the glasses, her shoulder just brushing his. He can smell her sweet perfume even among the smell of cigarettes and sweat and nighttime.
“I know you.” He says, grabbing her wrist, conscious that this could be his lamest pick-up ever.
“Yes!” she says brightly, turning toward him, her eyes crinkled into half-moon smiles. “I was wondering if you’d remember” she says laughing at his befuddlement. She meets his gaze directly, pleasantly. Her smile excites him. “You’re Jack Drake, right?” She’s teasing him now because he still has no idea….
Finally she relents, her spectacular smile spreading wider across her face. “I met you last summer... at your cousin CJ’s graduation party. You were there with a Hispanic girl.”
He remembers now. Sort of. He had been with Celeste. He remembers that. Had taken her upstairs to his aunt and uncle’s bedroom, had had her in his famous standing 69, ‘til her face had turned purple, ‘til he had cum all over it, a caul of cum dripping down, sticking to the strands of her caramel colored hair.
“You know CJ?” Nate asks, suddenly interested.
“Jailbait.” Nick mutters under his breath.
“Shut up dickhead” Nate hisses. “She’s like 19.”
“Yeah, but she wasn’t three years ago…”
“Fuck you, asshole” Nate says under his breath, casting a wary look in Master Drake’s general direction before adding, “I’m allowed to LOOK.”
“Yep!” Mary chirps over their banter. “CJ and I went to the same high school. I was a year ahead of her, but we played on the same volleyball team.”
“And you were there at her party, and I didn’t notice you?” Master Drake muses…
“Well,” she says blushing, looking at him under lowered lashes. “I noticed you…”
“Hmmmm…” he responds, dropping his head a little to meet her gaze directly, his blue eyes meeting her green ones. “I must’ve noticed you a little too, right? After all, I remembered you.”
“I guess you did…” she replies quietly, turning away, the tray of glasses balanced on her shoulder. “Well, I’ll be back in a minute with your drinks.”
She is only gone a few seconds though when Master Drake rises from his seat abruptly, excuses himself and follows after her.
“Hmm” says Mitch as he watches their retreating figures. “Boys,” he says, “sit back, I don’t think we’ll be getting our drinks anytime soon.”

*****

Master Drake follows Mary past the bar where she rests her tray of drinks, and into the dark corridor beyond. He watches her swish through the door marked “employees only” and only pauses a moment before following. She is standing in front of the sink in the employees’ washroom. Her hand is down her pants. She doesn’t turn her head as he approaches as he stands behind her, pushing the blossoming expanse of his heaving erection against the back of her thighs. He can hear her little gasps, bubbling out of her rib cage as her hand moves up and down… He runs his face over her scalp, catches the smell of her… runs his lips across the nape of her neck until all of her downy blonde hairs are in edge.

“Jack…” she whispers his name… her eyes are darting back and forth “Jack, we shouldn’t…” Her voice trails off; his greedy mouth has travelled down to her waist, where under her it is pressed warm to her skin. She is panting harder now, forming little puffs of smeary condensation on the mirror in front of her.
“Jack…” she moans. She is turning, writhing against his plying lips. “Stop; you’re like old… I mean…” she hesitates, blushing. He is unzipping her shorts. Her eyes grow wide as his mouth descends. “I… uh… it’s… I mean aren’t you like thirty or something?”
“I’m thirty seven pet, but don’t worry. It’s not like I’m going to marry you or something. You do want me to fuck you tonight, don’t you Mary?”
He is sucking on her clitoris; her shorts are on the floor, and he can feel the little shivers as they race through her convulsing body. He lifts her, somewhat so that her succulent, supine body is reclined into the well of the sink, the small of her back arched above the tap.
She is kissing the top of his head feverishly, running her hands through his thick, dark hair.
“Yes… yesss….” He has turned on the faucet, a tiny stream of cold water which he scoops into his hand before gripping her right breast, watching her nipple, under the thin white cotton of her t-shirt, expand to his touch. He bites it through the material, watching her mouth form a crooked “O” in a paroxysm of shock and ecstasy, as his fingers simultaneously glide into her sopping wet cunt.
“Ohhh. Omigod” her voice is hoarse, breathless as he slides them in and out. First two then three… the cold water lapping against her. Four. “Jack…” she is moaning, curled around him like a giant letter “G.” “Fuck” she whispers. “Fuck.”
He pulls back from her, unfastening her pants, and in that split second she gathers her thoughts.
“Jack…” she says, pulling away from him. “What about CJ?”
“What about her pet?” he asks drawing her close.
“She’s your cousin.”
“I know she is, pet.” He says with finality as he lifts her complicit body, driving it down onto his cock with such force that her legs curl around him reflexively.
“Ooohhhh Oohh…” her voice is escalating.
His mouth is wrapped around hers, his tongue pushing her head into the mirror, her shoulder blades beating the wall.

Her ass rests precariously on the rim of the sink, his hands grip her hips as he drives into her. Feels her warmth wrap around him, her body rise and fall to his rhythm. Stroking her over and over with his fat, hard dick, her thighs, cold and wet, stung with the sizzle of his sex… while at his feet, puddles of water begin to form. Her long ponytail is dripping as well, splattering him with water with each of his unabated thrusts, his intensity is mirrored in the swirling pools of her Irish eyes. Her legs are splayed, flailing, curving, stung with his touch. He is greedy for her. For all of her. And so that is why, in short order, Mary feels the flow of water slow against her back. Feels strong arms lift her from her roost onto the floor, her knees, grating against the wet linoleum. Master Drake is standing in front of her, his legs spread apart, proffering her his dick still wet with her juice.

She looks up at him, her eyes round with expectation as she slowly lowers her head, enveloping him in the clutch of her mouth. He feels the warmth of her tongue wash over him, feels her cheeks puff out in her efforts to contain him. It feels so good. He has seized her by her temples and is thrusting himself into the hole of her mouth, as the first saline trickle streaks down her cheek onto the flash of his disappearing dick. Her knees are grinding into the hard floor, her hands are shaking. Her quivering fingers wrapped around the beast of his lust. Choking. Unrelenting. He looks down at her, brushing her bangs out of her face so that he can see, unobscured, the roundness of her emerald eyes, raised to him beseechingly, brimmed over with salty, trickling tears. Like a Christmas angel bent in prayer, a supplicant, she hovers over the hot spear of his cock, taking it in her perspiring mouth, again and again, over and over, as he fills her mouth with the breadth of his excitement.

“Faster bitch!” He mutters gripping her head. “Faster!”
She is swaying, her throat contracting against the pressure. “Aaaa caaaaaa” she mumbles, her lips stretched wide with saliva stained cock.
“That’s it, you little slut,” he urges “that’s it. You’re going to make me cum soon. You’d like that wouldn’t you, you little cum slut?”
“Yeeettth” comes her pliant, gagging response. Her lovely eyes are bulging as she speaks.
“Say my name, whore…” he hisses between grated teeth.
“Aaackk.”
“No!” He has once again gripped her, pushing her reeling head down onto the fat head of his dick, arching his back as he feels himself slide deeper down into the wet recesses of her tunneling throat. “No little whore, my little fuck pet. You will call me by my proper name pet, which is ‘Master Drake.’ Do you understand pet?” He can feel his excitement mounting… “Now go ahead and gagspeak my name while I cum all over your pretty face.”
Her heart-shaped face is moist with tears and water and slobber and sweat. She is looking up at him with eyes strained by ardor. Her matted hair frames her loveliness.
“Come on…” he whispers urgently, “say it!!!”
And so with one great heave of energy, one huge spasm of lust, she manages to choke out his proper name: “affuh” [cough, cough, retch] “affuuuhh aaa”
He closes his eyes, feels the rush, her plaintive voice echoing in his ears as he feels himself empty into her, feels her gurgling throat collapsing around him, until he pulls out releasing a torrent of white translucence caking her face with his salty brine.

But he is not finished.

Mary cannot believe it at first. Having risen from the floor, the crisscrossed pattern of the floor tile embedded into her knee-caps, she is amazed to see his erection has hardly diminished. In fact as he reaches for her, rubbing it across her sweaty flanks, she swears it is harder than ever. She closes her eyes as he turns her away from him, placing her hands on the edge of the counter, cupping her ass in his hands. Then he is pressing up against her, running his hands up her back underneath her shirt, pressing his flesh into the crack of her pale, quivering ass. Running his hands down the front of her, reaching for her rounded, naked clit, her open, panting cunt. But when she feels the first insistent probe of his cock against her asshole, she turns to him with fear.

“No please…” she says, her voice a hush. “Not that. Please. I’m not ready.”
“You are a virgin?” he asks, caressing the rise of her ass in his hands.
“Yes” she whispers after a minute.
“Know pet, that it would give your master great pleasure to take your virgin ass.”
Again, a pause, like she is waging an internal battle. “I know, I know…” she pleads at last, squinching her eyes closed, “but please Master, please…. I’m scared.”
He looks down at her shivering, disheveled body, hunched over the washroom sink, the brown blossom of her ass peering up at him, his loins twitching with desire.
“Very well pet” he says at last, positioning his hands across her hips, plunging his cock, to the sound of her stifled gasp, into the depths of her pleading pussy.

And then with reckless abandon, mingled with pent up longing, Master Drake pounds her cunt with great heaving blows, blows that threaten to tear down the washroom, rip down the sky; blows that eventually bring the manager to bang on the door, shouting obscenities… lurching thrusts that loosen Mary’s lungs and cause her legs to wobble, that hasten Master Drake’s orgasm until he is exploding inside her, filling her cunt, then lifting himself to spill his seed out onto the glistening surface of her tight virgin ass. The ass that will soon be his, sooner than its mistress could possibly imagine. Soon.

For Master Drake