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These Scratches...
by William S. Dean © 2007

Kevin Murtagh sat in the coffee shop destroying his definitions by tearing up a napkin. A tiny ragged shard for submissive, another for dominant, a third for top, yet another for bottom. He nervously glanced around, then pushed the tattered pile into a cupped hand and dumped them in the trash canister. For another long while, he, toyingly, twirled the bottom rim of his cardboard cup across the tabletop, circle upon circle as if to capture his thoughts in some imaginary whirlpool. In the end, he stood, tossed the empty cup, pretending to sleepwalk to his car in the lot. The monster of lust was calling him home.

Desire fogged his mind so badly that every action collapsed into sexual metaphor. Fitting his key in the door lock was a deep thrust and a flick-wristed twist. His fingers, returning keys to pocket, felt moist as if sliding into...

He shook his head. The confusion had begun only a week before and now played too constantly—some unending loop of blurry flesh into flesh, along skin, lips, hands, probes. Inside the living room, he leaned exhausted against the closed door. "What am I?" he thought. "What do I want to do, have done to me?"

Outer-imposed celibacy caged him in a kind of wandering stasis in which memory took him along one path and the future taunted with cul-de-sacs. He scratched an eyebrow, the nail scritching a sound that reminded him of coursing across tangling pubic hairs. Fuck! Like any normal person, he felt the obsession worming its way toward madness with fascination and horror.

Peeling clothes as he walked to the bedroom, he imagined seducing himself with the promise of orgasm, but—lying naked across the bed—masturbation seemed a chore. Semi-hard, he stroked without heart, only intent. It was worse than adolescent fumbling, when ignorance at least was driven on by enthusiasm. Conjuring foggy fuck memories—the interspersed blowjobs like flakes of broken mirror, the tangy sweet taste of pussy and wet clit like forgotten desserts—had little effect now. It was as if his entire body morphed into an all-encompassing itch that only another person could satisfyingly scratch...and all life paled into the colorless fate of never finding that person again.

He met the strangest woman the following Tuesday at the same coffee shop he had frequented for months without meeting anyone. It so startled him that he thought for a moment he had conjured her up from his spiraling libido.

First, there was the slow curl of her fingertips over the back of the empty chair facing him. He looked up into her face; grey eyes.

"I'll sit here if it does not offend you," she said, already seating herself.

Kevin swallowed loudly. "No, I mean, please. Well..." His hand flopped in the air like a tired kite. "Hello."

She nodded, looked away. She brought the cup of coffee to her lips and settled it back on the tabletop. Her eyes came back to him and she leaned closer.

"Have you fucked recently? I haven't."

Kevin ran a hand over his face and plucked at his ear. "Um, well..."

She smiled, showing a row of small, brightly white teeth. "I shock you. I seem to do that a lot. Shock people..." Her arm swept out. " Americans do not talk of fucking or themselves so...widely?"

Kevin faked a cough behind his palm. "Oh, openly, yes. I guess we don't. Not usually." His head tilted toward her. "You're from...?"

Her eyes crinkled in amusement as her lips curled into a smile. "I am from Prague. Do you know it? Very old city."

"Oh, Prague. I've heard of it. I think. Oh, um, that writer...Kafka, right?"

"Yes, the cockroach and The Castle. Will you answer my question? Have you?"

"Have I...oh." Kevin felt his voice strain down into the softest whisper. "Fucked recently."

She nodded.

Kevin looked left and right, nervously fingered his watch band, tried to wet his suddenly dry mouth. His eyes hurt when he looked back at her. "No."

He flinched as she patted the back of his hand.

"Good. We are then like...the feathers of a bird. You say that?"

"What? Oh, birds of a feather."

He watched as her forefinger slowly rubbed across his knuckles.

"I think you are cute. When I see you from the counter. Saw you."

"Thank you," Kevin mumbled.

"And me?"


She frowned and he felt his heart falling into a pit.

"You do not think I am...?"

Kevin blurted. "You are cute, lovely, beautiful. It's just that..."

She slid her hand away from his. "Oh. I am sorry. I do not wish to offend. You are gay. It is all right"

"No! I...I'm not. Not at all."

She nodded. "I am Natalia. Natalia Novakova. You?"

Kevin fought away a fog clouding his memory. "Um, Murtagh. Kevin."

She nodded again, running a fingertip around her lips. "Today, it is my free day...Kevin. Free day?"

"Day off."

"Yes, day off. It has not been easy here for me. To find someone, you know? You know for..." She rubbed her two forefingers together with a soft smile. "But I like to."

Kevin's body shook from head to toes. "To..." He could barely get the word out. "...fuck."

Natalia laughed. "Yes! Say it again. For me. I like to hear you say it, Kevin."

Kevin licked his lips and leaned across the small tabletop. "Fuck."

"Good." She turned her head to the side and tapped her ear. "Whisper it to me. I like to hear you say it to me. You know? What you want us to do."

Kevin scratched his nose. He leaned still closer, taking in the scent of her perfume, feeling her hair tickle against his skin. "I want us to...I want to fuck you."

She closed her eyes and sighed deeply. "Yes. That is good." She turned her face back to him before he could move away and brushed her lips over his. Her pale eyes—now seemingly lit sharply—probed into his. She turned her head away and then quickly back. "You want to fuck me now, Kevin?" she whispered. "Today?"

Kevin felt her hand beneath the table, one squeeze around the straining tent pole he had made in his pants.

"Oh! You do! Very nice, Kevin." She released him, bringing her hand up to her cheek and letting it linger along the plane of her jaw. "But you will not walk easily now, I think." She laughed gently. "I will go now, but wait just outside, okay? And you will...not think about fucking me until you go down enough to walk. Good."

Kevin watched her stand and then the sway of her hips and ass as she left. He trembled and shook his head quickly, feeling how the hardness in his cock felt almost painful.

"Don't think about it, don't think about it," he told himself.

He looked around the coffee shop, focusing on the fake sacks of beans, the scrawl of flavors on the chalkboard, anything to take his mind off..."No, don't go there."

As his eyes scanned across the shop, he suddenly saw two policemen enter and flinched. He concentrated on their grim faces as they stood ordering and felt his hard-on shrivel away.

He stepped out the doorway and looked left and right. Where was she? He felt her hand tap his shoulder from right beside him.

"You live close?"

"Um, well, yes. My car is... it's only a few blocks."

She slid her arm around his waist. "Let's go."

By the time, he'd turned the ignition key, her palm had drifted across and lay high on his thigh. Then higher until it rested on his lap.

"I think this is going to feel good, Kevin."

"It does already."

"Mmmm, yes." She drew her hand back and used both hands to slide her dress up.

Kevin glanced over and down. He could see a few pale blonde curls between her thighs and a tremble zapped across his shoulders.

"No, no, you must watch the street."

He flicked his eyes back to the road and gripped the wheel tighter. She leaned across and rubbed two wet fingers over his lips.

"You like the taste?"

Kevin licked his mouth. "Wow," he gasped.


"Yes. Of course, I do." Kevin felt as if his cock was going to explode in his pants. "Look, if you...I mean...I don't want to...before..."

"Oh, Kevin! Very sweet. You really want to fuck me then? Hard? Very hard, Kevin?"

When he looked over at her again, her hand was pressed hard against her crotch.

"You can tie me if you want," she murmured. "But you really don't have to...because I'll give in to anything you want."

Kevin closed his eyes a moment and shook his head. He expected her to disappear when he looked over again. She had to be a fantasy he'd hallucinated.

She had her tongue in the spiraled whirl of his ear as he shakily unlocked the door. They almost tumbled to the floor when she twined her leg around him and ground her belly against his side. He could barely take a step his cock ached so strongly.

She walked away from him, standing, twirling in the middle of the room and pulling her dress over her head. She opened her arms toward him and wiggled her fingers back toward herself.

"Come on, Kevin. Take your pants down. I want to see it."

Kevin struggled, his clumsy fingers unbuckling his belt. His pants fell in a heap over his shoetops. He looked with dismay at the slight frown on her face.

"What, Kevin? You wear grandpapa panties. No matter, take them down." She snapped her fingers sharply.

Kevin pushed his tighty whities over his hips and let them drop.

Pure lust and embarrassment fought inside him for control. He flicked a glance at her.

Her eyes were riveted on his hark dick. She ran a tongue over the lower lip.

"Oh, if I don't kiss it, I will just die," she hissed.

To his astonishment, she dropped to her knees and crawled across the carpet until her mouth was inches from his erection. She leaned forward quickly, mouth opening. He could feel the heat of her breathing on the plum-colored head of his cock and then she quickly jerked her head back.

He watched her as she teased herself, coming closer and backing away again—like a timid animal afraid to take the food from a human hand. Finally, she bobbed her head forward and he felt her mouth engulf the head. She sucked it wetly and loudly popped it from between her lips with a smack.

She quickly pushed herself to her feet again and playfully gave a swat to his cock.

"Bad boy! So bad. You make poor Natalia so wet, you bad boy." She spread her legs a bit and cupped her pussy, then smeared the wetness across his mouth. "Like honey, eh? You want to lick me to taste more, you bad boy?"

Kevin groaned, his hands reaching to grab her, but she gracefully danced away.

"No, no, no, no. Not yet." She opened her mouth and made biting motions. "Grrrrr. You like hard, bad boy? You want a tigress or..." She licked her fingertips and pretended to groom invisible whiskers. "...Purrrrrr. You want a soft little pussykitty?"

"I...I don't...tigress," he blurted.

She raised an eyebrow at him. "Mmmmm."

Without warning, she launched herself at him, tumbling them both to the floor. She nuzzled his face, then slid down to his neck, alternating little licks and nips with her teeth. Then further down, she teasingly bit at his nipples, circling the aureoles with her tongue, while her fingernails raked along his belly.

She straddled his hips, reared back and swayed her head from side to side with a hushed, throaty mock roaring. She snaked one hand behind her, fingernails raking up his ball sac until she fisted the base of his cock and held it upright. And slid it into her with a loud gasp. She took him deep with one downward thrust of herself. Another mock roar.

When she flipped them over, Kevin felt dizzy. Simultaneously, she wrapped her legs around his hips, sank her pussy away from him, and began dragging her nails up and down his back.

"Fuck it now, bad boy. Hard." She sank her nails into his butt cheeks and arched herself up, taking his cock deep again.

Not long it lasted; a quick, almost brutal fuck. She clawed at his flesh, he pounded hers, using his body as a flail. He felt her body shudder, then again, then she went completely rigid beneath him, uttering a strangled chant of what he guessed was Czech mixed with the cry of a panther, the mournful solitary howl of a she-wolf, the triumphant shout of an Amazon warrior.

Behind his closed eyes, Kevin saw an explosion of white light and felt his cock throb out four long bursts of cum. He gnashed his teeth with the intensity before collapsing on top of her, completely limp. For a long moment, he just lay there, then felt her hand grabbing at his wrist, turning it toward her.

"Oh! The time."

He heard the click of her nail tapping the face of his watch.

Confusion dazzled him as she slithered out from beneath his body.

"This was so good, Kevin Murtagh. You see? I remember your name. I must go."

The crooked smile on his face, as she quickly pulled the dress over her head, made her lean down and kiss his cheek. She patted her palm against it, too.

Kevin tried feebly to push himself off the floor. "But..."

"No, no. I have to go. It's only few blocks back to the parking lot, yes?"

"Oh...well...wait, I can drive you."

She looked at the wad of his pants and briefs still around his ankles with a giggle. "No, no. You are tied up now I think. No time."

She vaguely waved from the doorway. "Oh, do something for those scratches. They look nasty. Mmmmmm."

Kevin heard the door slam loudly behind her and sank back to the floor, wincing as the rough carpet scraped against his back. He looked at the raw, red patches on his knees. His whole body felt bruised. He lay flat against the floor and closed his eyes. The aches settled deeper and he wondered distantly if his heart felt broken before he'd even acknowledged it had filled with love. His mind drifted back to earlier, was it only last week? "What am I?" he thought. "What do I want to do, have done to me?" And he mused that an answer would come back again, but he didn't know when.

© 2007 William S. Dean. All rights reserved. Content may not be copied or used in whole or part without written permission from the author.

Bio: Who is William S. Dean? Read his bio on the Erotica Readers & Writers Association website.

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