Night of the Himbo
is a multi-chapter sex fantasy and my first foray into erotica. I hope you enjoy it.
*****
He could taste her perfume, thick in his nostrils, and the smell of sex.
Mike's eyes snapped open. He was alone.
The bed wasn't his. It was huge, more than king sized, with black silk sheets and pillows everywhere. His thighs and belly were sore from exertion and when he moved, he felt the grit of dried fluids on his skin.
What the hell-
Before he could grab his memories of the night before, he heard a door opening somewhere, and voices -- male, female, kids.
He looked around at the bedroom. It was stylishly modern, with a lot of dark wood, chrome, and photos of a handsome family: husband, wife, children...and not one of them a mind-shatteringly gorgeous blonde. She had ditched him in someone else's house!
The one break in the room's silver-and-mahogany color scheme was a square of pink notepaper on the nightstand. He reached for it.
Sorry, Mikey. Love, Zuzu.
She had drawn little hearts above the "U"s. Four of them.
Footsteps were coming closer. Mike snatched his clothes from the floor and hobbled to the French windows that opened directly onto a pool. Some of these Bel Air mini-mansions had an access path directly from the backyard to the road-
Bingo!
He fought down the laugh erupting from his throat and hopped naked and barefoot along the walkway, onto Mulholland Drive, and two blocks down the hill to his battered Honda Accord.
He winced as he leaned back in the driver's seat. His back and shoulder ached as if- he ran his right hand over the skin and flinched. Zuzu had bitten him. And scratched him too, judging from the feel of the seat against his back.
He shook his head in disbelief as he started the car and pulled onto the road. This was insane. He was fifty-seven years old, for God's sake. Stuff like this never happened to him...not even when he was twenty.
Six hours later, he was dressed, showered, and shaved, and he had visited a walk-in clinic. The nurse practitioner had taken one look at his back and ordered up an STD panel in addition to the tetanus shot. Then he'd grinned at Mike.
"Nice pull, grandpa," he'd said. "Up top!"
Now Mike was sitting at his favorite coffee place on Riverside with an iced mocha, trying to figure things out. Thank God it was Saturday - at least he didn't have to do this at the office.
The office...it had started there.
Mike Deschelles was a story analyst. Script reader, actually -- a job he'd gotten a few years out of film school and found himself stuck in for...well, a lot longer than he wanted to admit. It had started as a temp job. He was going to be the greatest writer/director in Hollywood, of course. Everyone was. But having a real job to pay the bills took up time. And reading the awful, terrible screenplays of other people (and 97% of them really were terrible) left a ring of grime around the inside of his skull, making it ever harder for him to write his own awful script. And then he'd gotten promoted.
Now he was the head of the story department. He didn't have to read as many of the scripts himself, and he had full medical. And he was paunchy, near-sighted, divorced, and lived alone in the semi-comfortable dead end he had dug for himself.
Usually, he didn't think about it. But that Friday afternoon, when the Independent Literary & Talent Agency had its pre-party-weekend happy hour, he had looked at the baby sharks with their drinks and tried not to-
"-feel old, too?"
Mike turned. It was Alice Kendrick, ILTA's senior contract attorney. "We're not old," he smiled. "They're just not human." He nodded at two junior agents who were trying to one-up each other over their platinum Chopard chronometers.
Alice had laughed. "Of course they're not human. They're agents."
"A different species."
"Homo Douchebro."
"Anything on tap for this weekend?" He liked Alice, even beyond the bond they shared as fellow support staffers. She was funny, cute, down to earth...and she still had a dancer's build, under a few graceful, early middle-aged pounds. Not that he would ever say anything like that to a work friend.
"Binge TV with the fur babies," she smiled. "You?"
"Hiking." He made a face. "Trying to walk off the weight."
She laughed. "You're not a kid, Mike. Celebrate it! You can be as old and lumpy as you want in L.A. as long as you have money."
"Yeah, that's me. Mike Deschelles, sugar daddy."
She laughed again. "I'll see if any of my paralegals have a sweet tooth. Later, Sugar Daddy." She waved and left.
Mike had thought that was the last he'd hear from Alice, at least until Monday. But on the drive home to his place in North Hollywood, he got a text from Alice's phone and pulled over.
Help me, Mike!
he read.
Please come now! I need you!
It was followed by an address on Mulholland.
"Shit!" He had already made it into the Valley, but he took a U-turn back along Laurel Canyon and into the Hollywood Hills, then west to Bel Air.
There it was -- a long, low, glass and stone manse that was way too expensive for the Jetta convertible in the driveway. That had to be Alice's car. The front door was open.
"Alice? It's Mike. Are you okay?"
"Mike? Is that you?"
"Yes, where-" His jaw dropped. The woman who entered wasn't Alice. She wasn't anyone he'd ever seen, outside of a casting call, maybe...for
Ridiculously Gorgeous Sex Goddess, 5'7" to 5'10".
Her dark blonde hair reached her shoulders; it was the first time Mike had seen hair that literally "cascaded." Her golden eyes were big and round and fixed on his. Her heart-shaped face framed a smile that reminded him of his first high-school crush.
He tried to gather his wits. He closed his mouth, took a breath-
Her scent hit him like a battering ram. Some of it was cheap perfume, way too much, but underneath that was the smell of
her.
It reached through his nostrils, into his brain, then down his gut to-
Mike crouched a little and stepped behind a table. He was achingly, painfully, hard; harder than he'd been in years. Harder than he could even remember.
"Where's Alice?" he said, forcing his mind away from his dick.
"I'm Zuzu," said the girl.
Woman.
No girl had ever been shaped like that. She looked like she had been poured into her blazer and skirt combo and said "When!" a second too late. Her blouse was tucked up under her breasts to reveal the rounded, sensual abs of a belly dancer; at the top, it barely contained her cleavage. Her skirt swirled around long legs, and a slit on the right revealed a perfectly toned thigh.
Mike swallowed hard. "Right," he said again. "Zuzu, where's Alice?"
Zuzu stepped closer and put a hand on his cheek. Mike swayed with desire.
"I texted you," said Zuzu. "Don't you like me?"
"Oh God, yes," said Mike before he could stop himself. Her hand felt like soft fire, like the most cuddly thing in the world, he just wanted to-
Wait.
He fought against the rising cloud of lust in his brain. The car was Alice's. He recognized Zuzu's suit combo -- it was the one Alice had worn at the happy hour.
I'll see if any of my paralegals have a sweet tooth,
she had said. He'd thought it was a joke.
"Zuzu," said Mike, "Do you work for Alice?"
Zuzu smiled like the sunrise. "Isn't she great?"
"Yes, she is, but-"
"I'm glad you like her." Then Zuzu put her other hand on his back, and kissed him.
He came.
Just from her smell, her tongue licking his lips and then invading his mouth, slow and sure, seeking his, the feel of her soft body against him.
He spurted again, and again. Zuzu hummed into his mouth, reached down, and flicked open his pants with one hand. They dropped to the floor. Somehow, she managed the same trick with his now-damp boxers, and she took hold of his cock, rubbing it slowly and gently through his spend. In an instant, he was hard again.
Her hand still wrapped around him, she led him into the dark wood-and-chrome bedroom. She pushed him gently back with one hand until his knees hit the edge of the bed, and he sat automatically on the black silk bedspread. She smiled, knelt in front of him and took him in her mouth, licking him clean slowly, thoroughly, until he was aching from the pressure. Then, with one fingertip one his chest, she guided him back until he was lying face up. She swung one long leg over and impaled herself.
Dear, sweet God.
Warm, and wet, and tight, clasping and unclasping on him. He felt her thigh muscles tense, just a little bit, and then she was moving up and down, twerking on him beneath that long skirt that covered them both.
Before he realized it, he was thrusting back, matching her rhythm, with core strength he thought he'd lost years ago. UP and down; UP and down; UP-
She reached down as she rode him, pulling off her blazer and blouse at the same time, revealing the torso of a goddess. Her proportions were like those of the sacred dancers engraved on the walls of temples: full breasts, taut belly, long limbs reaching down to claw gently at his chest hair...
"Mike," she breathed, and bent down. Her hard nipples grazed his chest once, again, again. She smiled and kissed him, so her body was in contact at every point with his. The kiss robbed him of the air he needed to keep going, but he didn't care -- that need to breathe was bound up with her delicious scent, her arms upon his shoulders, her warmth gripping and caressing him.
She sat back up, shuddering as a tiny orgasm swept through her, then a another. Mike felt each one as he lay back and gasped for air. Zuzu's pace slowed and stilled, but only for a minute. Then she smiled even wider than before, more brightly, and redoubled her pace.
"No!" said Mike. Zuzu slowed, frowned. "I'll come too soon. Let me-" He gripped her shoulder gently and nudged. She slid off him, landing on her back, her gorgeous body open to him.
"Let me..." he said again, and caressed her foot, then her calf, and then her thigh. Hands were followed by lips, were followed by tongue-
"Ooooohhh..." her sigh quickly turned into a moan, and then a higher-pitched cry. "Oh, yes. Yes. Yes! Yes, Mike! YesyesyesYEEESSS!"
She grabbed him by his shoulders and hauled him onto her, guiding him in. "NOW!" she shouted. "NOW, MIKE!"
Her legs were wrapped around his and her arms held him tight. Her feet pounded on his ass as he thrust and thrust and thrust, corded arms bearing his weight, her smell everywhere on him, her fingers clutching the muscles of his back, and her voice in his ears yelling "YES, MIKE! YES! YES!"
"ZUZU! ZUZU! GOD! I-"
