Hot Stories for Cold Nights (17 page)

She parted her lips and licked the tip of his dripping cock. “Show me how.”

“I'm sure you don't need any training. Just do what feels good.”

Johanna had always enjoyed giving her husband head and this time was no different. She licked the length of him. “I'm pretending that you're a Dum Dum Pop.” She hesitated. “But you taste even better.”

His chuckle was deep and hoarse. “I would like it if you'd suck it.”

She opened her mouth and closed her lips around his staff. She created a vacuum and pulled him inside, then drew back maintaining the suction, just the way he liked it. When his cock emerged, she said, “You mean like this?”

“Just like that.”

After just a few strokes, he could obviously hold back no longer. He pushed her onto her back and rammed his cock into her, fucking her like a crazed man until, with only a few thrusts, he came. Although she hadn't climaxed she was in heaven. Rick was so obviously happy that she knew they'd repeat the game from time to time. And next time she'd let him teach her about the way a woman likes to receive oral sex.

T
HE STORE WAS REALLY NARROW WITH A FRONT WINDOW so grimy that Dale couldn't see inside. POTIONS, in tattered gold lettering, was all that was written on the window. That and, in tiny print at the bottom, P. DEARLY, PROP.

Potions. That was an odd name for a store. Was that its name or the product it sold? And why hadn't he noticed this disreputable excuse for a store before? After all, it was right on his way home from the supermarket. He shifted his bag of groceries from one hip to the other and considered going inside. Potions for what? The common cold? Athlete's foot? Beauty products? Yeah, that was probably it. Beauty stuff.

He was about to continue toward his house, then he stopped himself. He was curious, so he opened the heavy door and went inside. As he entered, a cheery little bell announced his arrival. To no one. No customers. No P. Dearly, Prop.

The place was as dingy inside as the outside would indicate. Dusty shelves filled with bottles, vials, and jugs, small boxes and odd-shaped containers in all colors and shapes. Well, they had originally been many different colors but most were so dirty and covered with stains that he couldn't make out the original hue.

“Good afternoon, young man. I'm Mr. Dearly.” A wizened, stooped old man appeared through a curtain that led, Dale thought, to the back of the store. The man wore grungy black pants and a black vest better suited for the ragbag, over a grayish shirt, its original color indistinguishable. His voice sounded not unlike a squeaking door.

“Good afternoon.” Dearly? What an odd name for a truly odd-looking man in an odd-feeling store.

“Welcome,” the man's voice creaked. “Feel free to look around.”

“At what? I have no idea what you sell in here.”

“I sell potions of all kinds. What did you have in mind?”

“I don't know,” Dale said. “Give me some suggestions of what you have.”

“We have potions to cure what ails you, to fix what needs fixing, to give you courage, strength, sexual potency, like that.”

Dale fastened on to the phrase
sexual potency
. “You mean like those ads in magazines or the ones on television?”

“Not quite. Those things are, for the most part, rip-offs. My potions work.”

Dale thought about sexual potency. That wouldn't do him any good unless he had a girlfriend to use it with. His sigh was heartfelt. He thought about himself, slightly nerdy, with glasses that were forever slipping down his nose, nondescript, mousy brown hair, and ordinary looks. He met his share of women in clubs, bars, and at work, but no one ever gave him much of a second look. He glanced around the shop, then shifted his bag to his other hip and started to turn.

“Don't leave yet,” the little man said. “There must be something you would wish for.”

“Wish for? Unfortunately you haven't got anything to cure what ails me.”

Mr. Dearly looked him over for a moment. “I have a potion to help you with women.”

“Enough,” Dale said. “You look me over and figure I'm a loser just like that.” He snapped his fingers and started for the door.

“Don't dismiss my irresistibility potion so quickly.”

“Irresistibility potion? You've got to be kidding.” He had to admit he was intrigued, however.

“Not at all, young man. It really works.” He shuffled to a bookcase and removed a bottle, only slightly less grimy than the rest. “This is a very popular seller. A few drops of this behind your ears and the women won't be able to leave you alone.”

Hand on the door handle, he said, “Right. I don't believe a word of it.”

“First vial is free. If you don't like it, don't buy more.”

Dale turned. “Free?” Who was he to pass up free stuff?

“That's right, free.” At the counter, Mr. Dearly decanted a minuscule amount of the liquid from the bottle into a tiny tube, then sealed it with a tiny cork. “This amount is good for one day. Try it and see what happens.”

“Free? Really?”

“Really. Like so many other companies, I make my money on the reorders.”

“Well . . .” What did he have to lose? He didn't have to drink the stuff, so the guy wasn't dispensing addictive drugs. What the hell? “Okay. I'll try it.”

With the tiny tube in his shirt pocket, he went home.

That evening he was meeting a few male friends for dinner at a nearby restaurant. Before setting out he opened the vial and sniffed. No odor. How could anything without an aroma do anything?
Oh well
, he thought as he dabbed a little of the liquid behind each ear, emptying the vial. Still no smell.

Since they went to this place often, he and his friends gathered at their usual booth in the back. By the time the waitress came to take their order Dale had forgotten about the potion.

“Hi, guys,” Sharon, their usual waitress, said. Then she stared at Dale and, pad in hand, plunked herself down on his lap. She stared into his eyes. “What would everyone like? What would
you
like, sugar?” she asked in her sexy Southern accent.

He was speechless. Nothing like this had ever . . . She'd never shown any interest in anyone, and they'd all tried. Sharon was gorgeous, with a long auburn ponytail, huge blue eyes, and gigantic boobs. Accidentally or on purpose she brushed her breasts against his chest.

The three other guys at the table were equally flabbergasted. There was a long silence, then Sharon said, still staring at him, “I get off at ten. Meet me out back?”

“Sure.”
Holy shit! Holy shit!!!

She stood and eventually everyone ordered beers, burgers, and fries.

“What the hell was that all about?” Steve asked.

“You won the lottery and she knows it. That must be it,” Mickey chimed in.

Dale remained silent, unwilling to discuss the irresistibility potion. That was the reason for this, right? The proprietor of the store couldn't have set this up. How would he know that the guys were going to meet here? He just shrugged and changed the subject.

A few moments later Sharon returned, doled out steins of beer from her tray, then dropped onto his lap again. Rubbing her big boobs against him, she planted a deep kiss on his lips, then left. The same thing occurred moments later when she brought their dinners. There was no conversation at the table until she was gone.

“What's going on?” Mickey asked again.

“I have no clue,” he said, then smiled, not responding to any more of his friends' comments. Eventually the third degree faded when the football game came on the TV over the bar and the conversation moved onto other topics.

Sharon stayed away from the table and a male server finished with them. After they paid the check, the four stood on the sidewalk outside before separating. “You gonna meet her?” Steve asked.

With a wide grin, Dale said, “Of course.”

“You'll have to give us all the details tomorrow.”

Grin still on his face, Dale said, “I never kiss and tell.”

“Bullshit,” all three said in unison.

When Sharon emerged from the back door of the restaurant at exactly ten, Dale was waiting. Without a word she walked up to him, draped her arms around his neck, and french-kissed him, tongue probing deep into his mouth. He could barely breathe.

Her hands were all over him, finally settling on his groin, deftly massaging his hard cock through his pants. Finally, breathless, she said, “My car's over there.”

He lived only a few blocks away but if she wanted to drive . . .

She didn't. She opened the back door and all but dragged him inside. Unzipping his fly, she bent down and took him deep into her throat, licking and sucking until he was hard as stone. When she straddled him, poised above his dick, he quickly realized that she wore nothing under the skirt of her waitress uniform—she'd taken off her panties before coming out.

That was his last coherent thought. His dick was so hard it was almost painful and he was afraid he'd shoot his load before they'd gotten started. Fortunately he didn't have to wait long. She quickly lowered her sopping pussy onto his hard-on and, bouncing, screaming her pleasure, she reached up and pinched her nipples until they both came. She sat astride him, panting. His dick barely softened when she sat up again and, for the second time, fucked him until they both came.

“Wow,” she said. “You're fabulous.”

Me?
he thought.
I didn't do a thing.
She climbed off him.

Come dripping over his balls, he slowly sat up. “You're pretty good yourself.”

“I couldn't resist you. You're just soooo sexy.”

“I have to get home,” Sharon said. “Will I see you tomorrow?”

Hmm. Fuck and run? Talk about slam, bam. Oh well, he was more than satisfied. “I don't know,” he said. How would she react to him without the potion? He vowed to himself that she'd never have the chance to find out. He would be at the little shop when it opened and get a supply of the irresistibility potion, no matter the cost.

T
HE FOLLOWING MORNING, DALE WAS AT THE GRIMY LITTLE shop before nine. He had no idea what its hours were, but he'd called in to work saying he'd be late and he was determined to stand in front until the shop opened.

He didn't know what more of the irresistibility potion would cost, but whatever it was, he'd manage. After the way Sharon had reacted the previous evening, he was hooked. Precisely at nine the little man arrived and opened the front door. “I was pretty sure you'd be here bright and early.” He grinned, showing his slightly yellowed teeth. “Worked, didn't it?”

“That's an understatement.” He shouldn't make it so obvious that he was going to buy more since it would inevitably drive up the price. However, he'd been unable to keep the shit-eating grin off his face since he got out of Sharon's car.

“I told you so.”

“That you did.”

“Well, come in, come in, and I'll get you some more.” Little bell tinkling, he walked back into the shop, with Dale right behind.

Almost afraid to ask, but willing to pay any price, he said, “How much will more cost me?”

“Not much,” Mr. Dearly said. “Not much at all.” When Dale remained silent, Mr. Dearly said, “I'll only dispense a week's worth at a time.” He shuffled over and pulled the bottle from the shelf. Taking a larger tube from another shelf he walked over to the counter and filled it carefully with the liquid, topping the vial with a cork. Handing it to Dale, he said, “That will be twenty dollars.”