Broken Falcon, page 9
“Remember last week, when I told you all about the hot guy I met? The one I was desperate to fuck? I saw him again today. It was a public place, so I couldn’t pull him aside and go down on him like I wanted to.” She unzips the side of her pencil skirt and slides her hand under the tight fabric.
She’s touching her pussy and thinking of me.
I go hard as a rock.
“I wanted to take him into the stacks. Have him fuck me from behind while I hold on to the shelf of literary journals.”
She’s pretending she works at the library. This is standard, but also the first time she’s said it when I know it’s a lie.
Even so, the scant words paint a picture, and I’m there with her, not bending her over a coffee shop counter, but instead spreading her legs and sliding deep, with the smell of old journals in my nose.
I want to touch myself, but I wait. I’ll get my turn when we’re alone. I’ll enjoy this as foreplay.
She keeps her clothes on as she plays with herself. She rarely strips in the open room, especially if it’s only regulars. She’s already hooked us and knows we’ll pay for more.
She knows I’m good for a few hundred at least tonight if we go private. It doesn’t bother me in the least that this is a transaction for her. She’s worth every penny.
I live rent-free in the compound, and meals are included. Raptor provides me with a vehicle—I had my own car a year ago because Parks couldn’t have me driving a tracked company car when I did her dirty work—but after it blew up, I decided not to replace it. I’ve learned that being tracked twenty-four seven is a good thing for me.
I have everything I need. I also draw a good salary even though I was a shit employee for a few years—but they know that wasn’t my fault, and Raptor was the reason I had my brain scrambled, so I have no problem collecting my check.
Basically, I have wads of money in the bank and little need to spend it. I can indulge in dropping money on Desiree. I can’t think of a more deserving person. She’s my therapy. At least the only therapy I will allow. I’m never going near an actual shrink again.
One game Desiree never plays is therapist or sex therapist, which is good because I’d have to exit fast. I don’t want that in my head when I think of her.
I’d never get hard again.
She plays with herself and teases us with ideas for things she wants to do in private. I don’t waste time and hit the five-hundred-dollar-tip button. I don’t know how much the other guys tip, so I’m not taking chances. It’s unusual for me to drop so much at the start, but why not? She’s worth it.
She tells the others that she and I are going to go private. She usually gives a time to come back if they’d like a private session, but it appears my upfront payment has bought her time until midnight. It’s gonna be embarrassing when I get off in just a few minutes, but I’ve been at half-mast since leaving the coffee shop so I can’t imagine I’ll last long. Not with the sexy librarian thing she has going on.
The first thing she says once we’re alone is “I was really hoping to see you tonight.”
“Because you want me to fuck you in the stacks.”
“Yes, but not until after I go down on you.”
She taps at her tablet and holds it up to the camera so I can see my dick pic. “I’ve been looking at this all week, thinking about taking you into my mouth. Running my tongue down the length. Sucking with the head touching the back of my throat.”
Does she say this kind of thing about all the dick pics? Probably. But I don’t care, because I believe her. She didn’t have to search for the image.
When I sat at the coffee counter today, did she think about my dick? Are Falcon and Chase linked in her mind because I sent her a picture of my cock when I was Falcon, but she was already fantasizing about me as Chase?
It’s a brain twister when I think about it. My cock is her mental stand-in for Chase’s cock. It makes me want to tell her the truth, but I know if I do, I’ll lose both Desiree and Eden. And I need Desiree.
She’s helping me find my way to accepting the man I am now, because I’m coming to realize there is no returning to the man I was.
I know she doesn’t like faking fellatio with a dildo. She’s told us all she’s tried different flavors so it doesn’t taste like silicone, but nothing works and it’s a libido killer for her. It’s not just the taste, she’s explained, it’s the static nature of the toy. For her, the fun of blow jobs is the reaction. The feel of the cock getting thicker and harder in her mouth. The tightening of the balls in her hand as she cups them. The hard thrusts as she sucks and strokes. All that is missing with a manless cock.
Fake dicks, according to her, are great for vaginal penetration, but that’s because she uses them with a vibrator for maximum self-pleasure.
On the screen, she does a slow striptease and plays with herself as she describes what she’d be doing to my cock if we weren’t separated by an entire continent.
This reminds me that I should say something about Alaska. I read daily news briefings from Anchorage because I’m committed to this role.
“Talk to me, Falcon. How am I making you feel?”
I stand from my bed and slowly strip. “I was fully clothed, but now that my cock is deep in your throat, I need to get naked. It’s too fucking hot in this library.”
She laughs. “You’re stripping in public?”
“Why not? I’ve got a ripped body. People should see it.”
I am ripped, but that’s because there isn’t much for me to do during my off-hours in the compound except work out and visit Desiree’s private room. Well, that and search out runaways, but my brain isn’t allowed to go there right now.
I’m naked in a library with Desiree, and she’s on her knees before me with my dick in her mouth.
I risk touching myself and let out a groan.
On the computer screen, I see her smile. “Yes. See what I can do for you. Fuck my mouth, Falcon. Don’t hold back.”
“I will absolutely hold back. I’m not coming until I’m deep inside your wet pussy.” Pussy is another word I had to get used to, but unlike horny, I like the word now.
It’s one of the words that turns her on, so it’s been positively reinforced enough that it makes me hot now too.
She scoots back and tilts her head up. She’s shifted the camera so she’s looking up at it with her mouth open. With my laptop on my bed as I stand beside it, it looks just like she’s on her knees in front of me and just had my dick in her hot mouth. Her lips are slick with wetness. She’s been licking them and might be wearing gloss.
She’s fucking beautiful kneeling there. I can see down her unbuttoned top to the nipples that would be hidden by fabric at a different angle.
I’m struck by a deep longing for this to be real. In person.
I’ve never wanted that before. It’s not safe. But maybe with Eden, it would be.
But this isn’t Eden, and I’m not Chase right now. I’m Falcon and I’m about to fuck this woman in a library. Her moans will carry down the stacks, and people will watch us, and I’ll get off on that too.
As this is something I definitely don’t want in real life, it’s a perfect fantasy to squelch the longing of a moment ago.
“Get up on your feet,” I say, taking command of the fantasy.
She complies, tapping a button to change cameras. She’s got an amazing setup that couldn’t be cheap. I need to tip her more.
Her skirt is unzipped and disheveled. Her wig is up in a messy bun.
“Unclip your hair.”
She does.
“Take the skirt off, but leave the shirt on. I want to fuck you with your tits tantalizingly peeking out.”
Her eyes light up, and I realize she’s been waiting for me to take charge. Does she imagine Chase is a take-charge-in-bed sort of guy? I know I would be if we were doing this for real, but it’s not how I used to be. Do I project that air as Chase? Even with the stutter and blushing?
I’m not sure I understand why she’s so hot for Chase, but I’ll take it, whatever it is.
She wears a thong beneath her skinny skirt. She leaves the thin panties on because I haven’t told her she can take them off. She is very good at relinquishing control.
“Spread your legs so I can drop down between them and look up at your wet pussy.”
It takes her a moment to switch cameras—the new angle comes from a handheld that she places on the bed, then she kneels over it, her legs slightly parted.
My screen shows her glistening wet pussy at a whole new angle. She’s spread her legs for me plenty, but never like this, with a dedicated pussy cam.
It’s fucking amazing, and I wish I could smell her.
“Spread your lips with your fingers and touch yourself.”
She does, moving aside the small strip of fabric, then her fingers explore, but she doesn’t touch her clit or slide inside her body. So I tell her to do just that.
The camera shows me everything, and I’m desperate to lick her for real.
I remind myself we’re in a library. This is pure fantasy and not meant to ever be considered in reality.
“Get the tongue vibrator and make me lick you.”
It doesn’t take long before she’s whimpering and moaning, having a very good time while I watch.
“What are you thinking about as I lick you, Desiree?”
“Nothing but your hot tongue.”
I didn’t expect her to say Chase, but we both know he’s the man in her head right now. Is she imagining we’re doing this in the coffee shop, or in her mind did she drag me to a library to fuck my brains out?
“C’mon. You aren’t thinking about the library patrons who’re watching me lick your pussy? Or that guy you saw today who made you hot?”
She lets out a groan and pulls the tongue vibrator from her clit. “Yes. To both.”
“He got you hot. But I’m the one who’s going to get you off.”
She changes cameras again, I’m no longer getting the pussy close-up, but this is better because I can see her face again, and she’s flushed and beautiful. On the edge and a bit desperate. Because of me.
Well, and her toys, but I’m playing a part here, and just like last time, this isn’t fake. She wants this bad. She is on edge.
“You are so beautiful.” My compliments are unoriginal but heartfelt. No one has captured my attention more than her. Her brazen sexuality adds to her allure. But she’s also sweet and kind, and I want to lick her all over. I want to feel her hands on my body. Does she like wiry muscles, or is she more into the beefy bodybuilder type?
But maybe I know the answer to that already considering she wants to fuck the man from the coffee shop.
“You want me to fuck you from behind, or do you want to face me while I make you come?” I ask.
“From behind first to fulfill my fantasy of getting fucked as I lean over a bookshelf, but before I come, I’m going to turn over so I can see your body and watch you as you thrust into me.”
We talk through her scenario, and she’s up on her knees at an angle to the camera so I can see her side and back. She reaches between her legs and slips a dildo inside at the same time that I take myself in hand and thrust.
As before, it’s intense to do this with her. The pleasure stronger than if I were alone and working from pictures or memory. We thrust and rock in unison, and she gets ramped up really fast.
She rolls over and resumes facing me now. She grabs a vibrator and looks at me expectantly. I haven’t given her permission for that.
“Tongue first,” I say. “Before I’m back inside you, I go down on you again.”
She slides the dildo from her body, then switches vibrators and nearly goes off at the first touch. She turns down the speed and only lightly touches herself with it. She doesn’t want to come yet.
She could. I haven’t told her not to. But I like the fact that she wants to wait for me. I don’t mind her going first at all. After all, until last week, that’s all we ever did. But that’s not what she wants, and even though I’m paying, this is all for her.
I love making her come, because it’s my choice to do so.
“I’m going to fuck you again now.”
I climb on the bed. I’m on my knees, facing the computer, and she spreads her thighs. I’m right there. She takes the dildo and slides it inside, and I stroke myself with the same rhythm once again.
She works the cock and vibrator in unison as she did before, her hands doing separate jobs that have her writhing on the bed as the pleasure builds.
I’m making sounds I couldn’t hold back if I wanted to as I stroke my cock and watch her.
“Are you close?” she asks.
“Yes.” The word comes out with a pant.
She turns up the dial on the vibrator, and leaving the dildo inside her, she releases it and places a hand flat on the bed, her fingers curling in the bedspread as her other hand works the vibrator.
It’s that hand on the bedspread that does me in. It’s not practiced or for show. She probably doesn’t even know her hand is on camera. But it is and her pleasure is so intense, she needs to grip the blanket.
I orgasm, turning so I don’t get cum on the laptop. I should have realized that could be an issue, but I’m new to this part.
On the screen, she comes too, letting out a deep moan as her body quakes with pleasure.
She lies on the bed, spent, splayed, and gorgeous.
I reach for my laptop to close it before I go clean up, but she must somehow sense what I’m doing because she says, “Don’t you dare leave so fast again.”
I hesitate. I’m paying her. One of the perks is no need for hanging around to wait for the sweat to dry. She won’t deny my entrance to her room if I ignore her. I pay too well for that, and she likes me. I’m a good time and good money.
But I don’t want to disappoint her because I like her too and want her to be happy. If this were a real date that culminated in sex, I’d stay as long or as little as she wants me. I might even want to stay the night.
I try to remember what morning afters are like, but Parks has messed with my brain too much. It’s entirely possible I’ve never had a morning after.
Not by choice, anyway.
“Falcon?”
I’ve hesitated too long. It would be a dick move to disappear now. And I don’t want her to think Falcon is a dick. I want to be her favorite client. I’m pretty sure I’m in the top three.
“Fuck, that was intense,” I say by way of explanation.
“For me too. It’s why I didn’t want you to leave. I need time to process.” She clears her throat. “Given this job…I don’t get to date. Not for real. The orgasms are great, and I have the best clients. But sometimes I miss the other stuff.”
“You want the postsex cuddle?”
“Sometimes. Yeah.”
“I don’t think I know how to do that.”
“But do you want to…try? For me? This job can get…lonely for all that I’m interacting with men twenty hours per week. It’s one-sided. And you’ve always been the guy who cared about my pleasure…so I’m hoping maybe you can be the guy who also cares about my other needs?”
There’s so much sweetness in her words. This is Eden. The careful barista who protects herself with men as much as possible.
It makes sense that she doesn’t date. I doubt many men would be cool with her line of work, unless they also work in the industry somehow.
“What does that mean?” I ask. “We can’t physically cuddle. What’s the equivalent for you?”
“I don’t know. Maybe we both get under the covers and…talk?”
I realize she might feel awkward. After all, she’s still on camera, half-naked and spent, while I have the privacy of being nothing more than a voice.
“Okay. We can start there. But I’m not sure I’m excited by this talking idea of yours.”
She laughs. On the screen, I see from her expression that she’s relieved I’m sticking around. For a little bit, at least. I’ve made no promises.
I’m afraid of talking. I might slip and give her a detail about my life I shouldn’t. Or start to stutter.
And now I have a new fear. What if I accidently whisper and she recognizes my voice?
This is a minefield.
But still, I want it. I want the same intimacy she’s looking for. But I doubt I’m capable of it. Emotions are the hardest thing for me to process, let alone express. “Give me a minute to clean up.”
She beams and says, “Same.”
I go to my attached bathroom and do a quick rinse in the shower, then return to the bed with a damp towel to clean up the mess I made because, like a dipshit, I wasn’t prepared for getting off.
I then grab a beer from my fridge, dim the lights, and slide under the covers. A minute after I’m settled, Desiree appears on camera wearing a skimpy satin pajama set. I have a feeling Eden might have something less sexy and more comfortable to sleep in, but I get that she needs to stay in character.
In moments, she’s under the covers too. I sip my beer and set it on the nightstand.
“What’s that?”
“I’m having a beer.”
“Oh. That sounds lovely. When I first started this job, I would have a little wine to get my nerve up. But then one time, I had too much. After that, I made a promise to myself never to drink on camera again. But I’m not going back to the chat tonight. So it should be safe for me to have a glass.”
“You’re always safe with me, Desiree.”
She smiles and blows me a kiss. “Be right back.”
She returns a minute later with a glass of red wine, then crawls under the covers and lets out a happy sigh. “I know it sounds silly, but this is…perfect.”
“Not at all.” I feel it too.
“How old are you, Falcon?”
I consider the question and decide it’s safe to go with the truth. “Twenty-seven.”
“Oh! We’re the same age. Well, almost. I’ll be twenty-seven in a few weeks.”
I’m surprised she told the truth, but then, I have a feeling that’s what this whole cuddling thing is about. She wants to be herself. Or as much as she can be while wearing a wig and heavy makeup in bed.
