FICTION


SECOND RUNNER-UP

Cheeky
by Lavie Tidhar

Her ass was like the African continent, dark and so far unexplored, yet Donovan knew it would not be long before he penetrated the heart of darkness.
    He twirled his large, bushy moustache, his eyes examining Marija's body like a plumber searching for holes. She had phoned his firm at nine o'clock in the morning, explaining in her soft accent that her heating was broken, her need for an experienced man to fix it. "I need you to make me hot," Marija said, and Donovan was out of the office and into his car mere seconds after the call had ended.
    Now, as he watched the jelly-like movement of her large breasts underneath the flimsy kimono, like murray eels squirming under aquatic sand, he knew he had made the right decision. She was so unlike Diana.
    Diana was a high-strung bitch, and although Donovan knew he was the right dog-fancier to lash her into submission, there was something about Marija that made him ache where it mattered. It was cold in Marija's small flat, and her nipples, he noted in approval, were like torpedoes ready to fire.
    "Damn the torpedoes!" he muttered under his moustache, feeling his erection blooming like a desert flower, a red and prickly cactus of above-average proportions.
    "Coffee?"
    Donovan started. "Please."
    "You like cups?"
    Donovan swallowed, his eyes on her bosom, raging like giant waves in the ocean. He wanted to surf those breasts to oblivion. "Very much."
    "Good." Marija's innocent smile filled the room. She bent down, reaching for a little cupboard and extracting from it a small cup. Her kimono rode up to her thighs and Donovan watched in fascination at the G-string that passed through the crevice of her bottom like a cruise-liner along the equator. He could almost see dolphins swimming through the milkiness of her skin.
    Unable to hold himself anymore, Donovan reached for her.
    "Oh!" Marija's surprised yelp contained pleasure. "Would you like to see my ass?" she asked cheekily.
    Donovan grunted. As he quickly opened his zip and rolled down his trousers Marija's eyes opened wide. His erection was like a towering monument to the Unknown Soldier, a Tower of Babel that seeded confusion wherever it was exposed.
    "It's huge!" Marija said, paying him lip service.
    His wiry hands grasped desperately at her continental breasts, his breath coming hoarse and urgent, like a sailor onboard ship first spotting a sea-cow.
    "Oh, Marija!" he panted.
    "Oh, Donovan!" They were like randy rabbits, not the kind Beatrix Potter wrote about but the other kind, the ones that shagged all day and used carrots in completely new and novel ways.
    "Take me, you beast!" she cried, and Donovan felt the pressure building in his monumental member like oil underneath the Arabian Peninsula, aching to get out and power cars.
    "You are the battery and I am the engine!" he cried.
    Marija smiled up at him dreamily as she panted, "You are the wooden horse and I am Troy!" Donovan's movements were like the raging sea, fluid and salty and not smelling too good.
    For a while neither spoke as Donovan plugged away at Marija's exposed interface like a techie wading through complicated jargon.
    "Oh Donovan!" she cried at last, and he could feel her trembling like a volcano about to erupt and bury a village alive.
    "Oh Marija!"
    They lay on the floor, spent like empty bullet cartridges.
    Then a silhouette appeared in the doorway, and Donovan started.
    "Oh, don't worry!" Marija said. "It's only my friend Candace!"
    "I do hope you don't mind if she joins us . . . "


                                         

 

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