Another Hard Days' Night

"You asshole!"

I felt a cold, watery sting as the ice struck my neck and slithered into the collar of my shirt. I wheeled around, directing my verbosity at the culprit: Danny Bishop, the son of my employer. I thought I had been blessed when I landed a summer job at one of the hottest eateries in town, which happened to be owned and operated locally. For a non-franchise establishment, the Down South Deli sure brought in a lot of people, which usually made every workday fast-paced and tiring. As if that wasn't enough, I constantly had Danny making life hell for me. For some reason, he and I never seemed to really get along.

Actually, thinking on it, the reason is pretty clear: we're as different as night and day. He's a spoiled, private school educated prep who has about thirty friends who all look exactly like him. Never dressing in an article of clothing priced under fifty dollars, he's definitely the type who thinks his shit doesn't stink. His view of society is one of conformity; if you're not like everyone else, that means something is wrong with you. This makes me the embodiment of everything threatening to his "anti-individuality". I'm the eccentric type; I don't dress like a J. Crew model, I don't objectify the opposite sex (when it's not deserved), and my intelligence quotient isn't at or below my shoe size. So, of course, he hates me. Which really doesn't bother me, because at the moment, I'm not too fond of him either.

"What'd I do?" Danny asked with mock innocence.

"Threw ice at me, maybe?"

"What makes you think it was me?"

I rolled my eyes. "Well, the fact that you're holding a bucket of ice might give it away, if my deductive reasoning serves."

"If you're deducting what? Why don't you speak English for a change?" Danny shot scathingly before adding, "Instead of all those weird-people words?"

"So you equate intelligence with weirdness now, huh?" I asked bitingly. "Excuse me for having a decent vocabulary. I'll remember to go monosyllabic whenever I talk to you. How about that?"

"God, you're so weird," he said, rolling his eyes and going back to his task of cleaning off the grill.

"Knock it off, you two," Carol, our manager, chimed in pleasantly. "Danny, you got that grill cleaned yet? I'm telling you two right now, I don't want to be stuck in here till ten o'clock tonight, so get moving on your closing work."

"Dad gave me the keys tonight," Danny announced proudly. "He told me I was locking up."

Carol shrugged. "Take your sweet time, then; but don't think about leaving until everything is done. And done right."

A trail of sweat slithered down my forehead as I hurried to sweep the last of the kitchen. Two of our front people had already clocked out and left. Carol was gearing up to leave; I, on the other hand, had the entire kitchen to mop, but couldn't do so until Danny finished taking the old grease out of the fryers and replaced it with fresh oil. Typical Thursday night closing work, only when I was the one stuck with the job of mopping, Danny liked to take his sweet time with the fryers just to make me have to wait.

"Mmmm, about four more buckets of grease; hope you're not planning on going anywhere tonight," Danny said, his spiteful shit-eating grin spreading across his perfect features.

"At least I have places to go," I muttered aloud.

"Oh, yeah, that weird-people place downtown. I suppose you were going to get up and read one of your little poems," he jeered sardonically. He exaggeratedly cleared his throat and held up a cupped hand as if he were dramatically reciting a line from a Shakespearean drama. "The moon…is full…and the owls…go hoot…and I like to eat fruit…from a big brown boot," he recited haltingly from whatever miniscule part of his already tiny brain that computed rhymes.

"Wow…how deep," I said in a sarcastic monotone. "They'd love you. That is, if they even recited poetry there."

"My friend Mike told me what that place is like…what's it called, the Living Room? He told me about all the weird freak-o people down there. You must fit right in," Danny said condescendingly.

"At least I know that it's one place I can go without having to see your sorry, pathetic, conformist little face. Now if you'd like to hurry the fuck up with that grease, I'd like to start mopping so I can leave," I spat bitterly.

"Woo, she's getting mad," he said patronizingly. "Better not make her mad. She might do something weird to me."

"Fuck you," I said simply, going back to my sweeping.

Thinking back, perhaps that planted ideas in his head.

"You can mop now," Danny said about thirty minutes later, having just finished taking out the last bucket of grease. Carol had been gone for some time, leaving the whole place to the two of us, to my consternation. I hopped down from my perch on the counter and grabbed the mop handle, pulling it out of the soapy water. I placed it in the yellow plastic wringer, leaned my weight onto the handle to squeeze out the excess water, and flung the mop head onto the linoleum with a flat 'splotch'. I wove the mop across the floor quickly; once one starts mopping, it barely takes any time to have done the entire floor. I became determined to make quick work of it; I was definitely ready to leave.

I heard a tiny splat behind me as I carried on mopping the rest of the floor. I turned around to see Danny holding a plastic squeeze bottle of ketchup. A few small dots of ketchup were on a freshly mopped section of the floor.

"I'm not in the mood to fuck with you tonight," I said, quickly lowering the mop onto the spot spattered with ketchup, wiping it up.

"Too bad," he said. "I'm feeling playful." With that, he squeezed the ketchup bottle again. Being completely full, it didn't take much for the ketchup to erupt through the nozzle and land in another small puddle on the floor.

"Dammit, Danny, stop it. I mean it," I said threateningly. I was nearly fed up with his bullshit. A few more pushes and I felt I'd erupt just like the small shower of ketchup had.

"And what if I don't?" Danny asked, giving the bottle another squeeze, sending more ketchup onto my newly mopped floor.

I let the mop handle drop from my hand. I crossed the space between us in two strides, being careful not slip. "I'll fucking hurt you, is what," I growled, inches away from his face. My eyes were boring holes into his. If looks could kill…

"You can't do shit to me," Danny said indignantly, putting the ketchup down.

"Oh, I can't?" With that, I shoved him into the prep counter.

He quickly regained his balance. "I could knock the shit out of you," he said in a low, murderous voice.

"Do it," I challenged, getting right in his face again. "Come on; I dare you. Hit me."

"You're a girl," he said simply, as if that explained everything.

"Who cares? That shouldn't stop you. Let's end this right now. You and me," I said. I was really fed up. I was about his size, and I knew I could hold my own.

"You and me, huh?" Danny said slyly. Without warning, he shoved me, so hard that I landed against the cutting table, which was basically just a huge marble cutting board on legs. He came toward me; instinctively, I reached out and slapped him savagely across the face.

This didn't stop him; I was against the table, and he had bridged that distance in no time. He grabbed both my arms firmly. I struggled a bit, trying to get my arms free. I thought he was going to kick me or knee me in the gut.

He didn't.

The cutting table was a tad lower than level with my waist. With one more shove, I lost my balance so that I was sitting on the cutting table. He pushed himself against me, forcing his body between my legs so that I couldn't kick him. As he held my arms, to my ungodly surprise, he pulled me forward and grabbed my lips with his own.

I was outraged and reared back, breaking the forced kiss almost as soon as it had begun. In response, he pushed me backwards even further, using my arms to force me upon my back. As he did this, he crawled onto the cutting table, directly above me, so that now I was beneath him, my arms pinned above my head. He re-attempted the kiss. This time, there was nothing I could do.

His kiss was hard, angry, and soon he had pushed his tongue past my lips, ravaging my mouth with it. I could have then bitten his tongue, but for some strange reason, I didn't. Wild horses wouldn't have dragged out of me the fact that I was getting somewhat turned on.

Danny is about 6' tall, light brown eyes, dark brown hair, tanned, with a flat stomach and muscular arms. He isn't a hulk of a guy but he is strong and cut nicely. If I were ever to break down and give him credit for anything, it would be the fact that he is quite easy on the eyes. The stubborn side of me would have said to fight back ardently, and accuse him of rape later to really fix his clock and assure that he never touched or spoke to me again. I guess this revealed two sides of me: the stubborn side and the horny side. The horny side wanted to give in, let him do to me what he wanted, and at least get something out of him besides just insults and rude comments. After all, if his intent had been to rape me, it would spoil his fun if I suddenly warmed to him. After all, you can't rape the willing.

I could imagine his surprise when he felt my tongue mingle with his, felt my body arch up and press into his own. For a moment, I thought he was going to pull away and interject some scathing remark; instead, he simply released my arms and began to push my shirt up. I rose a little to help him take it off of me. While I was at it, I let him unhook my bra. He grabbed both sides and eased it over my arms, tossing it aside.

Leaned over me, he gently explored my breasts, caressing them with a feather light touch so that, soon, they were as hard as pencil erasers. I felt a shiver go down my spine as he tugged at the left one with his teeth; a line between pleasure and a faint tinge of pain was crossed several times in the space of a second. He gently flicked at both nipples alternately with his tongue. I could feel my pussy beginning to grow damp, and I shuddered as the most of the warmth in my body migrated toward my clitoris. It throbbed with an aching frequency and begged for the slightest touch to send it over the edge.

He eased himself off the cutting table, taking those wonderful, soft, warm lips from my nipples. He planted random kisses down my solar plexus, farther downward across my abdomen, even pausing at my sides. He kissed my navel, and slid his tongue teasingly down my pelvis. Not breaking that rhythmic kissing for even the slightest moment, he quickly unbuttoned my khaki work shorts and tugged down the zipper, hooking his hands into the waistband and quickly pulling them down, over my thighs until they were lying on the floor next to my forgotten T-shirt and bra.

He resumed his progress down my body, leaving my panties on as he kissed further down my pelvis and onto the very peak of my mound. At first, he kissed the fabric over my pussy, which was already growing a little wet from my natural lubrication. He pressed his open mouth into my clothed pussy, and let out a throaty groan. The vibrations sent a wonderful pulse through me, and I moaned softly. I could feel his tongue pressing gently up and down the seam between my vulva, stretching the fabric of my white cotton panties as his tongue tried desperately to push inward. Finally, he pulled the crotch of my panties aside, exposing my wet pussy lips. He licked at the slit earnestly, teasing it a bit by not quite reaching that ultra sensitive core. Nonetheless, I was aroused such that I writhed slightly, mostly from anticipation.

Finally, he tugged at the waistband of my panties, pulling them down to free their hot, throbbing prisoner. He had barely gotten them from my ankles when he began a full assault, spreading the lips and letting the flexed point of his tongue tickle my clit. I felt my pussy walls contract deliciously and moaned loudly, barely able to keep my hips from bucking. He darted his tongue in and out of my vagina while alternately traveling upward a bit to pay homage to that sensitive nub just above it. Danny was incredible at this, and I let him know audibly. His occasional moans of approval that he would release into my pussy nearly sent me over the edge more than once.

He knew I was close to coming, and in response he began to lap at my clit faster. In addition, he put his index and middle fingers into my pussy, fucking me with them as he continued to worry my clit with that extraordinary tongue. In no time, I felt that warm rush of release spread through me, calling his name as I orgasmed.

Completely naked now, I stood up carefully, as my legs were a little shaky. I whipped his shirt off, threw his distressed baseball cap to the side, so that now he was standing in nothing but his jeans, the waistband of his boxers visible as well. He lifted me back onto the cutting table, so that I sat again, and kissed me; I could taste my juices on his tongue and figured he must have enjoyed the feast. As we kissed, I helped unbuckle his leather belt and hurriedly unbuttoned his jeans. He kicked his Birkenstocks off his feet as his loose fitting jeans sank to the floor of their own volition. He stepped out of each leg effortlessly, not pausing our hungry, messy kiss for a moment. He was in nothing but his boxers by now, and I didn't even hesitate to reach for my prize.

He had grown hard and fully erect while eating my pussy; his erection was already snaking through the gaping hole down the front of his boxers. I grabbed it gently, letting my palm slide over the smooth, hot, taut shaft. I could feel his groan of appreciation as we continued to kiss. I eased my hand down the shaft and back up again, flicking my thumb over his head and down the very center of his slit, which was wet with pre-come. Our lips parted as he winced with a concentrated shiver of pleasure as I stroked that sensitive area. His hand traced up my thigh and back to my pussy, seeming to want to return the same favor I was doing him. His warm, dry fingers against my clit were maddening; I ground my pussy against his hand, still fondling his cock with my own. Flushed with a fever of arousal, I let my hand fall from his erect penis and hurriedly struggled to get his boxers off. He ceased rubbing my pussy to accommodate this; he pushed them down and kicked them aside so that now, both of us were completely naked together.

He grabbed my hips and pulled my pelvis toward him, so that I could feel his cock against my belly. "What do you want?" Danny whispered hoarsely.

"I…I…" I stammered incoherently, caught off-guard by the question.

"Say it," he demanded more urgently.

"I…want you to…" I hesitated still.

He began to stroke my pussy again. He was going to play a little game with me, I could see. So far, he was winning.

"Come on, what is it? What do you want?" Danny asked again, fueling my lust with those lovely, dexterous fingers.

"I…God…I want you to…" I breathed heavily, the words forced out by spasms of near-orgasmic pleasure.

"Yes?" Danny teased, giving my clit one final, hard stroke that sent me over the edge.

"Unnnggghh…I WANT YOU TO FUCK ME!!" I blurted out uncontrollably.

"That's more like it," he murmured slyly.

He pressed the head of that lovely cock slightly into the folds of my pussy, rubbing it a little on the hole and up towards my clit. I pushed my pelvis against it, leaning in ecstasy back on my arms. "Fuck me," I demanded softly, my eyes shut tight with pleasure.

At that, he eased his cock into my pussy. His strokes started out slow at first, my pussy being tight from a couple of months' celibacy. He towered over me as I reclined on the cold marble table, his hands on my hips, pulling me deeper onto his cock. Soon, he built up some speed. I occasionally squeezed the walls of my pussy tight, and the sudden moan of pleasure he emitted was proof that he had indeed felt it. The heat of his cock as it glided in and slid out was exquisite, and his fullness was sending me to the brink, and fast. He fucked me deliberately, pulling all the way out until the head almost reemerged from my pussy and driving it deliciously back into my warm, wet depths. We built a rhythm, and soon we were fucking like the most familiar of lovers, groaning and writhing against each other. It was good, but I wasn't satisfied yet; I wanted to do it all now, as if this was not only the first but also the last time we would fuck. I wanted it to be, in a sense, complete.

I stopped him, gasping and panting, and eased down from the table. He looked confused for a moment until I leaned over the marble with one knee hoisted up onto the cold, smooth surface. From behind, my pussy lips were displayed prominently beneath my ass, wet and inviting him back in. Without a moment's hesitation, he put his hands on my hips and again pulled me onto his cock, this time from behind. He stood behind me, using my hips as leverage, and fucked me savagely.

With each thrust, his dick slammed into that taut, sensitive area of my vagina, and I found myself screaming out, clutching the table desperately. I laid my fever-flushed face against the cool marble, crying out in the bonds of unbelievable ecstasy. I squeezed the walls of my pussy tight with each withdrawal, his loud, guttural groans of approval telling me to keep it up. My screams got louder and hoarser as he sent me hurtling into my first orgasm, a burst of white light exploding in my head as the wet walls of my pussy contracted around his hot cock. He was now fucking me so hard that I could hear the loud slap of his thighs pounding my ass. I regained a little of my energy as he continued drilling my pussy, and again stopped him, prolonging his orgasm. I could tell he was more than ready to come…but I didn't want it now, not just yet.

"Get on the table," I demanded, feeling like a nurse in a doctor's office. "Lay on your back." He obeyed perfectly, lifting himself upon the table and reclining back on his arms, much as I had done before. When he was settled, I climbed on top of him, my thighs on either side of his hips. He lay all the way back, using his hands to caress my outer thighs as I slid my pussy back onto that painfully hard cock. He closed his eyes, head lain against the cold marble, as I began to fuck him.

I lifted myself onto and off of his cock in a perfect rhythm, making it slow but excruciatingly tight around his dick. I could see his winces of pleasure, which turned me on even more, making me squeeze him that much harder. I bore into him, using as much pressure and tightness from my pussy as I could to torture him to the brink of an orgasm. His hands ran up my sides, down my hips and over my thighs as I rode him like a prize stallion. It was now he that was nearly screaming in the throes of pure delight as I ground my tight cunt up and over the sensitive head of his cock and eased back over the shaft. I had been supporting my weight on my arms above him, hovering over him so that we could kiss.

To make the pressure deeper, I rose up, straightening my back and lengthening my body over his so that we were perpendicular to each other. He now had sight of my entire body, and coursed his gentle hands up my abdomen to fondle my breasts, which jumped and swayed as I rocked myself up and down on Danny's cock. I was going faster now, feeling the onset of another orgasm, that tight, full feeling beginning in the depths of the stomach. I could tell Danny was close, from the noise he was making and the look of agonizing ecstasy on his face. He slid his hands down to my hips again, where he gripped me and began to thrust upward, desperate to come now. I counteracted his thrusting with my own, and our bodies slammed and slapped together like the arms of a seal. I fucked him wildly, squeezing him as hard as I could, so hard that it almost hurt but was unbelievably wonderful at the same time.