Caleb Cattell

We could see them plotting. Four guys zeroing in on the fifth. Cash flying from wallets to the center of the table. And all the while, their eyes kept turning toward us.

There's an old saying that nothing good happens in a bar. Perhaps that's why we hung out there. It was close to home and a great place to watch people's inhibitions peel away with rise in their blood alcohol count.

Pam and I write smut. And there is no better place to learn pick-up dialogue than in a smelly college town cocktail emporium.

Pam took a sip of her Moscow Mule. "I can just imagine the convo. 'Twenty bucks says Billy crashes and burns with one of those two chicks.'"

I had watched the scene play out before. "Yeah, send Billy up there," I mimicked. "He's the most awkward one. It's worth the investment just to watch him fail."

I took a dose of my Grey Goose as Pam picked up the narrative. "And the gym rat to the left is his frat brother, bound by blood to back him up. 'I'll take that bet boys. We teach every member of the wanna-banga-broad fraternity the ways of the hunt. If you suckers want to test Billy, I'm happy to collect your money for our next toga party."

Sure enough, the one who looked the most uncomfortable got pushed in our direction. The only remaining question was, would it be Pam or me.

"He's headed for you, Mack," Pam predicted. "They always pick the one with the bigger boobs."

"Naw," I answered. "It's you, babe. Someone bet the kid that you're not a real blonde. It's his job to find out."

Pam put a ten on the bar. "Loser buys the next round?"

I matched her Hamilton. "Remember. Top shelf vodka for me. Shaken, not stirred."

A moderately handsome specimen approached. He didn't seem the frat boy type. "Excuse me, ladies. My fraternity brothers over there hate to see unescorted girls out on a Friday night. Since I'm a pledge, I was chosen to offer to buy a round for you both, with their compliments."

He was looking at me. Dammit. I slid my ten toward Pam's victorious smile. "Show me some ID," I said. "If this story is gonna make it on Literotica, I need proof that you're eighteen."

He had it. My cop friends taught me to spot phonies. His was the genuine article.

"Caleb Cattell from Scranton," I read, showing his driver's license picture to Pam. "You seem too normal for that crowd. What are you doing pledging a fraternity?"

Caleb Cattell flushed. "It's Caleb. And I'm an introvert. I pledged to try and learn some extroversion. They picked me because they were sure you would say 'no'."

"No to what, Caleb?"

He shot a nervous glance at his brothers."No to taking me home with you tonight."

Pam and I rolled our eyes. I went first. "I'm a single-mom with clinical depression and a six-year-old, Caleb. Are you still interested?"

Caleb Cattell turned to Pam, not sure how to answer. She did, pressing her tits together with her wrists. "And I'm two thirds through gender reassignment. I still have a cock if you're into the trans thing."

Caleb' flush turned to full-on blush. "J.. Jesus," he stuttered.

"We live in the trailer park next door," I continued. "Our truck driver boyfriends aren't due back from the long-haul until late tonight. If you're not afraid of angering a couple of recently released testosterone felons, you're welcome to come home with us and take your shot."

Poor Caleb vibrated like someone had just put jumper cables on his balls and turned on the juice. I worried we might literally scare the shit out of him.

"Look," he said, the honesty vibe radiating with atomic intensity. "I'm gonna get hell for the rest of my life from those guys if I don't at least look like I'm scoring tonight. I've got fifty bucks in my wallet and you can split it if you let them see one of you leave the bar on my arm. You can ditch me the minute we turn the corner. But I can't go through my sophomore year taking shit from everyone for confirming that I'm the loser they all think I am."

The non-verbal communication so natural to important female relationships flew between Pam and me. She nodded and stood. "Order me another mule," she told me. "Caleb and I have a date in the unisex rest room."

She wrapped an arm around the kid's waist, draping his own over her shoulder and pressing a surprised male palm against a protruding breast. The two moved in the direction of the third bathroom the owner installed to show that his bar was non-binary friendly. Mouths agape, Caleb' friends watched the scene develop. I could read Pam's lips. "Wink at those assholes, boy. Show some confidence."

The kid grinned at the table and winked as he was told. When I heard the lock click, I ordered Pam's drink, told the bartender to close my tab, and sauntered toward the frat boys' table.

"So, kids. Tell me what your little brother likes best? Oral? Anal? BDSM? I want to make sure he's happy when he leaves in the morning."

There's always one ego in the bunch. The probable football player had the Alpha role tonight. "Go easy on him. He's a virgin."

The others dissolved into hyaena laughter. I batted my eyes at the jock and leaned over the edge of the table to give them a view of my cleavage. "You should have had the guts to make the ask, needle dick. I'm so horny right now that I would even fuck a Neanderthal roid boy like you." His brothers hooted at my abuse. I lowered my voice and leaned closer, feeling a dozen eyes on my tits and imagining the blood that must be pumping under the table. "Your little friend is gonna get the ride of his life. He'll be limping for a week.

I turned back to my spot at the bar. The jock's friends peppered him with taunts I knew would find their way into the fraternity's history books.

Pam's moans rose above the ambient noise level in the bar, no small feat.

I could imagine the conversation in the rest room. "Listen kiddo. Touch me and I'll kick your balls so hard that you won't ever want to have sex, let alone children. Play along and I'll make your friends think you can paint an oral portrait on my nether regions worthy of the Sistine Chapel. Then we walk out together, and you act like you took me to the sexual summit of Mount Everest. Do we have a deal?"

A few moments later, the two emerged from the toilet. Pam appeared ahead of her man, unsteady on her feet, breathing hard, a hand over her heart. It was an Academy Award performance.

She coached Caleb well. He stood behind her, arms crossed as she took her seat on the barstool, and casually ran his tongue across his upper lip.

My friend grabbed her drink, raising her voice so the frat boys could hear. "Nobody has ever made me come that fast. Caleb has a tongue like a Hitachi."

His brothers bought it, exchanging stunned glances. Mr. Football put his head in his hands, muttering, "That coulda been me.

"Ok, Caleb," I said grabbing his hand. "I'm gonna make this a night you'll never forget. Last one to the trailer park has to come second."

Pam told me later that everyone at his table was screaming for their server, waving cash in the air. They wanted to follow us. My friend guzzled her mule and fake-stumbled toward them, determined to put on the stall.

"What did you say the name of your house was?" she asked in the affected breathless tone of a sexually satiated woman.

Several answered in unison.

Pam dropped a realtor's business card she grabbed off of the bulletin board by the bathrooms on the table. "I'm Bethany Owen," she said, reading the name of the poor salesperson off of the card. "If I didn't have an early showing tomorrow, I'd invite you all back to my place for a gang-bang. Call me when you plan your next party. I'll be the first one upstairs."

She was out the door before any of the dumbfounded macho men could react.

* * *

"You can let me out at the next corner," Caleb said from the passenger seat of my Lexus. I'm sure he wondered how trailer trash could afford the luxury. "I don't want your truck driver boyfriends to get the wrong idea. And thank you for helping me out tonight."

"I'm Mackenzie. My friends call me Mack. I'm not a single mom and I don't have a six-year-old," I said. "Women come armed with lines like that to scare away the assholes. You seem like a decent kid, Caleb. And you followed directions. The least I can do is offer you some hot chocolate and a cookie before you return to your Precambrian nematodes."

"I'd like that," Caleb said, finally starting to come down from the intensity of the evening. "There's a Starbucks up ahead. I'd be honored to buy."

I ignored him and took a left, waving at the armed security guard who kept the riffraff out of the high-rise condo complex I called home.

"Welcome to the trailer park," I said, pointing to the penthouse floor.

For the second time tonight, Caleb was tongue tied. "You... live... here?"

"Yup."

"If you don't mind my asking, what do you do for a living?"

"I write dirty books. Nothing but cocks, clits and tits for five hundred pages a throw."

"For real?"

"For real. Does that surprise you?"

"I thought only ugly girls and horny grandmothers wrote smut. You're smart and... beautiful."

I laughed. "You're a rare one, Caleb. I'm still trying to figure out if you're for real."

While most of my conquests would have been exploring the goods from the moment we entered the elevator, Caleb Cattell was mesmerized by the emerging panorama of the cityscape that was revealed in all its twinkling glory as we ascended. He was equally speechless when he surveyed the interior of my condo.

"Does smut pay that well?" He asked, looking at the contents of my well stocked bar.

"Not really. I'm a financial analyst by day. I write steam at night to stave off the boredom. What's your cocktail, big boy?"

"No hot chocolate?"

"Jesus, Caleb. You're making me second guess my judgement in bringing you up here. I can't send you back to your friends without a story to tell. It will go better for the both of us if we are properly medicated before we write the chapter."

"Sex?"

"Yes, sex," I answered, dumping eight ounces of Grey Goose into my shaker filled. I shook it so he got the maximum jiggle effect from the twins. "Coitus, the nasty, cupid's dance, fucking. Do any of those words exist in your vocabulary?"

I poured the icy contents into a pair of glasses and handed him one. Caleb drank it down with surprising speed. "Bonk, score, bang, hump, screw, fornicate (If you've been shamed at Sunday school), get it on, schtup." Caleb paused. "Shall I continue?"

"The real man emerges at last," I said. English major?"

The vodka was relaxing him. "The only place an introvert can hide in plain sight,"

"So, you've done the deed?"

"Oh yeah. Girls call it my boyish charm. What you see is who I am. It attracts hungry coeds who want to break in a virgin. 'Let me teach you how to please a woman,' they all say."

Caleb held out his empty glass for a refill. "And I pay attention. Every person has something to offer. Over time, I've figured out how to read a woman like a book. Someday maybe I'll write a sex manual. Won't that shock the guys at the frat house?"

"So the insecurity thing at the bar was an act?"

"Not completely. I'm still young and realize that there is a lot I still have to learn about life. The mechanics of pleasure are easy. The psychology of a relationship is hard."

Caleb began to look a little less immature. Maybe it was the booze working, but his body seemed more toned, the face handsomely chiseled, a lock of dark hair curled over his forehead like Clark Kent right before he found a phone booth.

"You're not the guy I thought you were."

Caleb took another swig of the Grey Goose. "What's the point of wearing aggressive sexuality on your sleeve? Kindness is sexy. Being a walking dick-pic is not. A guy trying to get lucky is a turn-off. Girls that do it get laid for sure. But I don't think they go home happy about who they are."

I pondered the tiny ice chips that snuck past the filter in my shaker.

"Pretty perceptive," I said, feeling the attraction as Caleb' magnetism started to work. "What do you see when you look at me?"

"Generosity, a bravado that might hide a little insecurity, somebody who is used to being underestimated. There's a playful girl hiding behind the tough exterior. She knows what she wants and few of her men have been able to give it to her."

"That sounds like carnival cold reading," I said.

Caleb smiled. "But am I right?

"I earn my play money with words. They are poor substitutes for action."

"You're avoiding the question."

I took Caleb' hand, leading him to my bedroom. "Let's see how good those supposed teachers really were."

* * *

My place has a breathtaking view of the city. Caleb lingered by the balcony doors. "You've done well for someone so young, Mack. What's your secret?"

The kid's total lack of sexual aggression was making we want him... bad.

"This is part of the act, isn't it?" I said. "Pretend that getting laid isn't the ultimate goal and your conquest will drag you into bed?"

"Oh, I definitely want to fuck you, Mack. You're feisty and attractive. And you've got a brain on top of that amazing body. I'm as interested about what we'll talk about afterwards as I am about seeing you naked."

"Then quit stalling and start undressing me." I was getting annoyed by this protracted mating dance. But somewhere deep inside, it was making me horny as hell.

Caleb sauntered toward the bathroom. "Got an extra toothbrush?"

"Probably."

"I like the kissing part and want to make sure the nachos I ate at that stupid bar don't gross you out."

"I promise you, Caleb. You've got me hot enough that you could have puppy breath and I'd still stick my tongue down your throat."

Caleb turned to me on the bathroom threshold. He rested his hands on my shoulders and leaned his forehead against mine. "What's the hurry Mack? I thought we were going to make this a night we'd never forget."

"You've totally fooled your frat brothers," I said. "You are no beginner. You're a player."

I took his face into my hands and attacked the nacho breath with my mouth. "I like Mexican food. Forget the preliminaries and fuck me."

"Good things take time," Caleb Cattell said. "First a toothbrush." He shot a glance at my tiled shower and its multiple rain-cascade shower-heads. "And then I'll prepare you."

* * *

I felt like we were two old married people, brushing spinach remnants from between our teeth. I kept stealing glances at Caleb in the mirror. This kind of foreplay had never happened to me. It was damn sexy. For the first time in a long time, I wished I was younger.

When he was satisfied with his well-polished smile, Caleb snaked a hand inside the shower and turned it on.

Then, at last, he turned his attention to me. "Do me a favor, Mack. Let me be the dom for the first round."

I knew my expression must have telegraphed barely feigned incredulity. "You mean I get more than one round?"

"We'll see how you feel," he answered, gently putting a hand under my chin and guiding it toward him. "Passion begins with the small stuff."

His lips brushed mine. He gently nuzzled my nose, still guiding the oral proceedings with one hand, while unbuttoning his shirt with the other. I wanted to devour that mouth, but Caleb playfully nibbled mine, caressing the skin at the edges of with light swipes of his tongue, studying every nuance of my face with fascinated eyes.

By now my panties were soaked. The moment his chest was revealed to me, I pulled my top over my head, and undid my bra in record time, releasing the twins for his inspection. My hands were headed toward removing my pants when Caleb whispered, "Unzip me."

To my libidinous brain, the two words were the sexiest things I had ever heard.

I did. And then he removed my soaked thong, the vestige of modesty that stood between us.

There is something wonderful about having someone you are totally hot for undress you. Caleb even folded our clothes and placed them on top of the wicker hamper before guiding me into the now totally fogged up shower.

I was used to dropping to my knees and slurping my partner's manhood to full attention. But to Caleb, this was a mindfulness exercise.

He quickly soaped up and rinsed his own build while I watched, grateful that the downpour from the multiple shower-heads covered my drooling over a physique that was becoming much more interesting by the minute.

He then found my body wash and carefully massaged every inch of my own form, saving the hot spots for last and rinsing me off before his first incursions into my erogenous zones.

Even then, he was the essence of gentility. Caleb began with my neck, reading me like an erotic road map, nibbling in just the right spots before kissing his way down toward my tits. His tongue circled the edges of my areoles before lightly flicking my rock-hard nipples, just once.

By now, my eyes were closed, my focus totally on the ultra-sensitive nerve endings Caleb had awakened. I could feel his tongue lick upwards between my breasts before a single feather-light downward brush over the hood over my clit nearly sent me into the stratosphere.

It's easy to forget how important eye contact is to the coital ritual. The visual connection overflows with nuance. Affirmation, uncertainty, fear and hunger are expressed in the slightest movement of the brows, the corneal contractions and magnetic attraction that a single stare communicates better than Shakespeare's most brilliant verbal constructions. Our gazes locked as we dried each other off with two rich, white cotton towels. It was only then, that I saw Caleb rising to the occasion, his substantial, thickness pulsing in time with his heartbeat into a full, throbbing erection.

I wrapped my arms around Caleb' neck and my legs around his waist, hoping to guide that glorious love muscle toward my warmth. But Caleb again denied me, instead pressing his shaft against the face of my pussy, massaging the entire area with each step he took toward my bed.

I was so turned on that when he tossed me on the center of the mattress, I pulled my thighs upward and begged him to fuck me.

"Soon, Mack. Soon." He said in a practiced timbre that kicked my desire meter up another notch.

Without losing eye contact, he crawled toward me. As his destination became clear, the anticipation sent another rush of wetness towards my opening.

Caleb inspected his work zone. "Most guys don't realize that a women's pleasure region is as wide as an ocean. To fully enjoy the experience, your man has to tend to it all."

I felt Caleb kisses on both thighs as he moved toward my engorged pussy lips. His oral attention there was beyond description and I get paid to describe stuff like that. By the time he worked his way to my clit, all it took was a single swipe of the tip of his tongue to send me into a screaming, shuddering orgasm.

As I came, Caleb sucked on my love button, moaning in satisfaction as if it was the sweetest thing he ever tasted.

I still don't know how or when he put on the condom. I only know that I could feel its rubbery tip find its way under my hood, tickling my clit while Caleb towered above me, his eyes still locked with my own, a warm smile creasing his face.

"Are you ready, Mackenzie?" Hearing my full name was another rush.

"I'm sending flowers to your teachers," I said, reaching for his waist with my arms so my biceps could press my heaving tits together for his pleasure.

I wanted it all and I wanted it now. But Caleb had one more surprise for me. After inserting himself halfway, he gently pulled back out, rubbing my clit with the tip of his warm, drenched protection.

He repeated this three times, until I could no longer stand it. I grabbed his ass and drove him fully, deeply inside of me.

Threading my fingers behind his neck, I pulled Caleb toward my waiting mouth. Our kisses were no longer the sensual explorations of foreplay. We engulfed one another as Caleb slowly began his thrusting rhythm. I could sense the hair on his chest tickling my ultra-sensitive nipples as my tits rocked up and down in concert with my undulating hips.