"Want a kiss?"
I turned from my reverie to face the owner of the sultry voice murmuring into my ear. She was leaning in close to me, draping herself over the back of the couch where I sat. Her luscious red lips were parted just enough to let me see the tip of her tongue peeking out between her teeth, and her green eyes danced as they met mine, invitingly. She held up a teardrop-shaped chocolate wrapped in red tinfoil.
"Tease," I said as I accepted the candy.
"Hah," Kerry replied, standing up, "just let me catch you when Meg's not around."
"She's not around now..."
"Who's not around?" said Meg, settling in beside me. Kerry threw me a wink and disappeared into the crowd.
Officially this was the "St. Valentine's Day Massacre" party, so we were all dressed as gangsters, ruffians, and lowlifes of every description. Tommygun waterpistols abounded. I had done my best, with a pinstripe suit with suspenders and vest, topped off with a fedora and-- my triumph-- white spats. Meg was dressed as a flapper, with a tubelike silver satin dress that went all the way down to maybe mid-thigh and black lacy stockings that continued from there. I'd seen her playing with a toy derringer in a garter holster earlier, but I had no idea where she had been thinking she could hide it. The stockings were held up with a garter belt, anyhow-- I could see the straps whenever she adjusted her dress. I pretended I was trying not to stare.
Meg has always been my dream girl.
"Mmm, hi," I said as she snuggled up to my side. "I didn't hear you come up with all the noise around. You should be careful sneaking up on people like that-- you never know what might happen."
"I'll try to use this power only for good," said Meg distractedly. "Candy heart?"
I accepted the proffered tidbit. One thing Valentine's Day parties are always good for is candy hearts. They're not quite as much fun as fortune cookies because you can't just add a phrase like "in bed" at the end of every one to make a joke-- at least, I've never found a good phrase for them-- and the themes are pretty much always the same. But I like concentrations of pure sugar anyway; the random words are just a bonus.
I looked at the one I was holding. "Sleep now," it said. My eyelids fell suddenly closed.
Meg had hypnotised me at a party the night we first met. I went home with her because I couldn't remember where I lived for some reason-- I'm still not sure why that was, weird fluke of memory or something-- and we'd been dating ever since. She does sometimes like to get a little kinky-- and toppy-- in our sex games ... but I don't mind too much, because, as she told me that first night, I like being submissive for her. She was so right about that. Everything she told me that night was so true ... She still continued to hypnotise me for fun sometimes, and I had the vague impression that she might have done it recently-- there were several evenings I couldn't remember very well-- but if so I had no idea what she'd done. Or what I'd done. Or what I would do...
I opened my eyes. I was standing in the hallway next to the bathroom.
"Hey, wanna go outside?" said Meg.
"Um, what?" I said.
"Out on the porch? It's nice and cool, the air will clear your head. Come on!"
"Um, ok. What did I ... what just..."
"Yay! Just as I thought. Nobody out here right now."
"Cool. But what..."
"Shh. Kiss me."
No need to tell me that twice. Meg has wonderful lips. I kissed her long and lingeringly, while she took my right hand and pressed it between her legs, under her dress. I discovered why she'd been so careful to keep adjusting her dress when she sat down.
I tried to use this knowledge only for good.
"Mmm..." Meg murmured, and pressed her hips forward into my hand. She rubbed her cheek against mine as she leaned into me, her lips brushing my ear. "You know," she whispered, "what you really need is a tongue down there."
It did sound appealing. But I could hear voices in the kitchen just on the other side of the door. "Someone might walk out and see us," I replied.
"Spoilsport," she whispered. She reached behind her and pressed something into my left hand, which was against the small of her back. Curious, I brought it around to look at it.
It was a small candy heart. "Eat Me," it said.
With no apparent transition I was kneeling on the porch licking my Mistress's pussy. Her hips pressed into my face and she reached down under her dress to twine her fingers in my hair ... then she pulled hard and yanked me half to my feet, just as the door from the kitchen opened.
"Mmmm, I could use another drink" Meg said lazily as I stumbled to my feet. "Will you get it for me?" She handed me her cup with a sly grin.
I took a deep breath to steady myself. Meg looked on innocently. I could still taste her on my lips, smell the scent of her pussy stronger than anything else ... and I couldn't say anything, because three other people had just walked out on the porch beside us, lighting up cigarettes and chattering away. I edged past them, keeping my body turned away and hoping my pants didn't bulge too noticeably.
Well, now I had some idea what she was up to. Candy hearts. Scary.
All right, so what was the worst that could happen? I trusted Meg to keep me safe from self-injury or major social scandal, but she wasn't above making me work for it. Or sweat a little. Obviously.
I racked my brains for all the candy-heart slogans I could think of. Most were pretty innocuous, really. "Eat me" was a lucky double entendre, but as best I could remember most of them were things like "Kiss me"-- which I hardly minded-- or "Be mine"-- which I already was.
Wait, now-- what was that first one she'd shown me? I couldn't remember it anymore, but it seemed like there had been something odd about the slogan...
"Alone at last," came the sultry voice in my ear. Kerry again, pressed up against me in the crush of people trying to reach the refrigerator. Pressed rather tightly against me ... good thing she wasn't in front of me, or she might interpret my body's lingering thoughts of Meg as something else again.
As it was, I hoped she wasn't close enough to my face to smell what I'd just been doing.
"Yeah, it's-- oof!-- nice to have the kitchen completely to ourselves like this," I said, taking an accidental elbow in the ribs from the guy in front of me.
"Sorry about that, man" he apologized.
"Hey, no problem-- the refrigerator is MINE! Ah-ha-ha-ha haaa!" I enthused mildly, groping through the shelves for something Meg might like.
"Ooh, I love to see a man on his knees. Could you hand me a cider while you're ... down there? I'd be ever so grateful..." Kerry vamped in my ear.
"You're letting that outfit go to your head," I answered, fishing out three ciders and handing her one. Kerry was dressed as a torch singer, in heels and stockings and a very tight black silk dress that was slit up the sides farther than I dared look. Turning around to hand her the bottle, I realized that kneeling to poke through the fridge had placed my face about even with her belly. I could still smell Meg's pussy and was very aware that my face was only a few inches from Kerry's.
I felt the temperature rise a few degrees in the room. Slowly I looked up at her.
I could see that Kerry was thinking the same thing, and she looked like she might be about to blush. Instead she held my eyes, and very deliberately placed one foot on a stool next to the refrigerator, baring her whole leg to where the tops of her garter straps disappeared into the slit in the dress. "See anything you like?" she asked, with her eyes locked on mine.
"Hey, no sex in front of the refrigerator!" "Yeah, there's people dying for a beer back here!" "Get a room!" called the peanut gallery behind her, and a good-natured shove sent her half-toppling onto me. I caught her around the waist-- trying very hard to avoid anyplace more suggestive, the warmth of her skin underneath the silk dress was intense enough-- and helped her stumble out of the way of the mob.
"Actually, I'm a man on a mission," I said, holding up the two bottles by way of explanation.
"Oh-ho!" she smiled, arching an eyebrow. "You get away this time. But I'll get you, my pretty!" And she whirled dramatically and headed into another room.
And your little dog Toto, too? I thought. I don't even have a little dog Toto.
Such predicaments; I must forge ahead.
Opening Meg's cider first, I stepped out onto the back porch and offered it to her as she lounged against the rail.
"What's this?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Um, 'Rabid Weasel Hard Cider, '" I said, reading the label. "Eight percent alcohol by volume, contents ... hm, I can't find the contents listed..."
"Is that any way to serve me?" she asked, looking me up and down and lifting the eyebrow higher. I gave her a blank look, and she nodded towards the floor of the deck in front of her.
Hoping I was interpreting correctly, I knelt, and held the bottle up towards her like an offering. "Please accept this humble token of my eternal devotion?" I said tentatively.
"Yeah! You go, girl!" cheered one of the smokers, a blonde woman I didn't recognize, stubbing out her cigarette and clapping. Meg inclined her head regally towards us both, then gestured to me to stand up again as the smokers filed back indoors.
"Much better," she nodded, as I opened my bottle and joined her leaning against the railing. She held up her bottle to clink it against mine in a toast. As I raised my bottle to my lips she said, "To begging."
"What?" I said, forgetting to take a sip.
.... There is more of this story ...