Flexibility

Flexibility

A light look at a couple of fetishes.

Author's note:

I've been trying out writing in different categories and this is my attempt for Fetish. Specifically it involves auto-fellatio and pegging. And hopefully, a certain amount of humor. Please remember this is Fantasy Fiction -- a generous amount of Willing Suspension of Disbelief is in order. Votes and comments are how I know how well I'm doing, pleasing you, the Reader. Enjoy!

* * * * *

Larry Belham was proud of his flexibility, and rightly so. All through high school, he'd been on the gymnastics teams and at his mother's insistence, he'd been taking ballet since 4th grade. Well, actually she insisted he try it, along with a number of other pursuits. He'd discovered he'd liked it. Unfortunately, although performing well did garner respect, it didn't garner dates. His social life sucked. It hadn't gotten better since graduating, mostly due to his inherent shyness. He just wasn't comfortable breaking the ice with girls.

And now it was the summer after graduation and he was looking forward to going to State in the Fall. That was going to make his solution to his sexual frustrations a lot more difficult, especially if he had a roommate. His solution was to suck himself off.

Between being blessed with a moderately long dick and a great deal of flexibility in his torso, he was able to pull his legs up over himself and pull his erect cock down to his mouth. He could almost get his entire cock in his mouth except that he had a bit of a gag reflex problem. He definitely liked the way it felt and didn't find the taste of his own cum annoying at all. In fact, he kind of liked it.

So it was a lazy summer day, his brother and sister were at the village pool, his Dad was at work and his Mom was volunteering at the food pantry. He had the house to himself for hours. The perfect time for a major wank, his way.

He got settled on his bed, naked, and began daydreaming about Melissa Chance, his redheaded neighbor from two doors down. She could stop traffic just walking down the sidewalk. Flaming red hair, alabaster skin, brilliant blue eyes and a pair of knockers she shouldn't have been able to stand up with. And a combination of temper and libido to go with. The rumors of her high school exploits had reached epic proportions. Larry had figured out a lot of it was exaggeration, but there was still the fantasy that she was as voracious as people believed.

Regardless, she made great masturbation fodder.

At eighteen, he was still young enough to have hormone-driven recovery time, which meant he could usually suck himself off at least a few times in an hour, sometimes several. Now he was looking at three to four hours. Maybe he would go for a personal best.

An hour in, he'd managed to cum four times. Not on track for a record, but damned good orgasms along with awesome Melissa fantasies. This felt fantastic. It was going to be a bitch having to give it up at college.

"

Lawrence!!!

" It was his mother's shocked voice, from the doorway.

Fuck!

Embarrassment shot through him as he was caught with his dick halfway down his throat. Then the embarrassment gave way to anger.

The damned door was closed!

he railed in his head.

Even if it wasn't locked, she should have knocked or something!

He clamped down hard on his emotions and his body, figuring if she'd already seen him, he didn't need to panic.

Cool and calm

, he told himself.

Cool and calm...

He let go of his legs and let them down, his erection popping loose from his mouth and sticking up like a flagpole as he laid out on the bed. Then he turned to look at his mother.

"The door was clo..." he started, then stopped. His mother, with a horrified expression on her face, was standing there, staring at him. Melissa was right behind her, with an expression half shocked, half fascinated.

Oh, holy fuck!

went through his mind as he grabbed a pillow and covered his groin. Embarrassment and anger were playing tennis in his head. He tried to summon as much sophistication as he could... which right then, wasn't much.

"Is there a

reason

for this parade?" he managed to ask his mother with blistering derision. When you're feeling defensive, go on offense.

"Oh, honey... I'm sorry!" his mother told him, backing up into Melissa and pulling the door most of the way shut. "I didn't know you were, um,

busy

. I ran into Melissa at the food pantry and she needed some help moving some boxes she's packing away and I volunteered you, since I didn't think you'd mind and you'd have plenty of time since you aren't working until this evening..." She was on a roll and Larry knew that if he didn't say anything, her motor mouth would just cruise along of its own volition.

"Can I have a few minutes?" he asked. "Then I can meet you in the kitchen, where I can put my head in the oven."

"Of course!" his mother exclaimed from the far side of the door. "The meet you in the kitchen part. Not the putting your head in the oven." As if she had to clarify her response. She pulled the door shut and he heard the two of them walking away.

Well, fuck!

he thought as he lay there, trying to get his pulse and respiration under control.

Now

that

will be all over the town by tomorrow... and pretty much tanks any possibility of a date with Melissa Chance. Ever.

Heaving a huge sigh, he got up and started pulling clothes on. The bitch was, he was still horny. And part of his brain was fixated on Melissa Chance's expression as she stared at him. Maybe there was some lust there? Maybe? His more sensible side reared up and pointed out that he needed to get his act together and go face down his mom and her list of whatever it was she wanted him to do. Baggy shorts, a t-shirt and sandals would do it. Decked out thus, he headed for the kitchen.

He found both his Mom and Melissa there, sitting at the kitchen table with a pitcher of lemonade and a couple of glasses. Still irritated, he stalked over to the cabinet and got out another glass, returning to the table. Trying to ignore his mother's attempts to get his attention, he focused on the lemonade, pouring himself a glass while avoiding looking at either his Mom or Melissa, but especially Melissa. He was having a tough time fighting the embarrassment.

He moved to take a seat as he took a big pull off his lemonade.

"

WHOOF!!!

" His eyes flew open as he looked at the drink that wasn't just lemonade. In fact, it tasted like it was about half rum. "What the hell is

in

this?" he managed to wheeze out while suppressing the cough.

"I tried to warn you, dear," his mother told him. "I thought Melissa and I needed a bit of fortification. You, too, if you wanted it. Maybe I overdid it a bit. In my defense, I

was

trying to tell you it was spiked before you guzzled it."

Larry finally set his glass down and looked at Melissa. She had a bemused look on her outrageously pretty face.

"You might want to go a little bit slower," she smiled. "I need you semi-sober to schlep some moderately heavy boxes for me, if you're willing."

"Nick, nick, nick... fa... fa..." he answered, being a smartass.

"Indian," Melissa told him. "Here's to the first of the day, fellas."

"You know your history," Larry grinned. "Congratulations."

"So, will you help me?" she asked, blowing right by the elephant in the room.

"How many heavy boxes are we talking?" he asked, taking a

sip

off the lemonade. "What's in them?"

"About two dozen, and mostly books," she told him. "And some magazines and some other collectibles I want to put away before I head to State."

"Books..." he iterated. "Please tell me you haven't filled th..."

"They're small boxes and only about two-thirds full," she interrupted him. "It's just a bit more than I can handle alone. Your Mom volunteered you, since you are in rather fit condition." She smiled when she said this, but it was as close as she got to saying anything about the scene she'd witnessed.

"So when and where?" he asked, taking another sip.

"When is whenever you're free. Where is from my house to my Dad's pickup I'm borrowing and then from the truck to the storage unit I've rented." She picked up her glass and took a healthy swig.

Deciding to get it out of the way before terminal embarrassment overrode the righteous indignation, he told her, "I'm free whenever you want. There's nothing on my calendar for today except work tonight."

"Great!" she smiled again. He was actually getting distracted by it. She had a very pretty smile. "I'll head home then. You can

come

when you're ready." He could have sworn she was teasing him with innuendo, but he wasn't about to ask.

Melissa left and his Mom started apologizing again. But in the weirdest way.

"Larry, I'm really sorry about walking in on you," she started. "I know better... really, I do. The door was closed and I should have knocked and waited for an answer... all the things we taught you were the polite ways to share space. I can assure you, I won't ever walk in on you like that again. Your right to privacy is much more important than when you were a toddler, obviously. You've grown into a mature, handsome, intelligent, um...

flexible...

young man... and, um... how do you

do

that? I didn't even know it was

possible!

"

Larry noted that his mother was looking rather flushed and distracted.

"How do I do what, Mom?" he asked, not wanting to jump to embarrassing conclusions. "What's not possible?"

"That you could, um... you know... uh,

bend

like that? And um...

reach

... uh... you know what I mean, son!" Now she was definitely getting flustered.

"You mean how do I suck my own cock?" he asked, suddenly aware that beating his embarrassment meant putting it on someone else.

"Uh, well, that's a little vulgar," his mother answered, "but generally, yes... I mean, I know you're athletic and all, but to bend like that, even if you are rather, um..."

"Hung?" Larry offered.

"Well, yes, if you want to put it like that..." she answered.

"I've been doing it for awhile, Mom," he told her. "I've had to. It's not like I could get a girl to do it for me. Besides..." he grinned. He was enjoying this way too much. "I'm just taking after Grandpa Tom."

"Grandpa Tom?" she iterated, confused and derailed.

"Yeah, Grandpa Tom... your father... remember? Wasn't he a contortionist with the circus until the accident?"

His mother turned bright red.

"Speaking of girls and favors," she tried to recover, "you're supposed to help Melissa move a bunch of boxes. That should keep your hormones distracted..."

"For a little while," Larry nodded in agreement. "I'd better get going."

"Yes, you'd better." His mother turned, drained her glass of lemonade and hurried out of the kitchen.

Larry shrugged. He didn't feel nearly as embarrassed any more. It was time to go move some boxes.

* * * * *

Melissa was definitely organized. He carried out boxes marked

Plants/Fish/Pets

and

Antique Reference

. And some marked

Fiction/Keep

. And even a couple marked

Personal

that jingled as he carried them and set them in the pickup. He got curious about those. She'd only cross-folded them shut instead of taping them, so when he got a chance and she wasn't looking, he peeked.

He sort of wished he hadn't.

Personal Box 1

was bondage fetish magazines, handcuffs, plugs, gags and other toys.

Personal Box 2

was other fetish magazines, dildos, vibes, paddles, floggers and a riding crop. He very carefully closed them back up and put them farther into the bed of the pickup.

"How're we doing?" Melissa asked him as he walked back into her bedroom.

"How are we..." he iterated, not sure what she was asking.

"Doing," she repeated. "As far as space goes. In the bed of the pickup."

"You'll have more than enough room for the books and stuff," he told her, then immediately wished he hadn't put it that way. "You'd probably have room for some pretty hefty furniture, if you needed it." She gave him a strange look.

"You mean like my gibbet and rack?" she asked, watching his expression.

"I don't know what a gibbet is," he told her, "but I always thought it was crude to refer to them as a rack. A trophy rack should be antlers, not breasts. But as far as fitting, your whole body would have plenty of room."

"You," she looked at him with a slight smirk, "are being intentionally dense. Regardless, four more boxes to go and then we can cart them to the storage unit. They're those, at the end of the bed. They're closed and marked. I'm heading down to the kitchen for a few before we head out. Let me know when we're ready."

"Yes, Mistress," he told her, then immediately regretted it, just like his previous comment. Something in his mind was coming unhinged. Plus, the look she gave him was a confusing mix of amused, interested and disdainful. "I mean, sure, Melissa. I'll get these two and come back for the others." With that, he did pick up two of the boxes, marked

Long-term Projects

, stacked them on each other and headed down the stairs after her.

He passed her in the kitchen on the way out the side door to the pickup truck. She appeared to be pulling some items out of the cabinets and boxing them. He put the two boxes in the pickup's bed and made sure they were snug against the others, then returned to the house. Melissa was still puttering around the kitchen as he passed through and he was almost out the door towards her bedroom when he was startled by a loud whip- or paddle-like

Crack!

Given what he'd been recently thinking about, it was almost instinctive to spin around to face her and put his ass against the cabinets to protect it. She was holding some kind of paddle in her hand and looking amused at his reaction.

"What the hell is

that

for?" he exclaimed, his mind not recognizing the paddle in her hand.

"For flies?" she answered, confused. "It's a flyswatter?" She was giving him the strangest look.

"Oh... yeah..." An embarrassed flush was creeping up his neck. He should have recognized a flyswatter. "Uh, okay... thanks. I'll just, uh, go get the last two boxes..." He eased out the door, keeping his ass pointed away from her. Her gaze followed him out the door with that same strange look.

He gathered the last two boxes, one marked

Memorabilia

and the other

Awards

, and headed back downstairs. Melissa wasn't in the kitchen, so he hurried through, putting the boxes in the bed of the pickup. He was bending forward, making sure the boxes were set, when he heard her voice say, "it's nice you're so

flexible...

" as her hand grabbed his ass and he stood bolt upright. "And pretty damned firm, too," she added before dropping her hand. "Ready to go?"

"Uh... yes?" Larry's pulse had gone through the ceiling when she'd grabbed him. He was trying to get it under control. He used walking around to the passenger side as an excuse to get some distance between himself and the exotic young woman he was rapidly classifying as a man-eater.

He slid into the front seat as she got in on the driver's side. "Seatbelt," she told him as she fired up the truck. He automatically complied. He was surprised to realize that he was afraid not to.

Melissa pulled out of the driveway and headed towards the intersection a couple of blocks down. Waiting for the light, she turned to him and told him, "I really appreciate your help with the books, Larry. I could've packed 'em only half as full and handled it myself, but that would have been a huge waste of space, and the storage unit isn't cheap to start with. When I told my folks I wanted to put some of my stuff in storage, they told me I was being silly... that I could leave everything right there, at home. When I insisted, they turned around and insisted that I pay for my own foolishness. So anything I can get into the 4'x8' locker is a plus."

She turned her attention back to her driving as the light changed and Larry went back to watching the road, wondering if she was telling him this because she thought he knew what she was storing someplace other than her parents' house. She didn't let him wonder long.

"You've probably figured out why I don't want to leave everything at my folks'," she told him as they drove. "Not that I know if you've got any interest, but after this morning, I figure you won't be critical of my kink."

"Why would I have an opinion about what you do with your stuff?" he asked. "I mean, after all, it's yours."

"Right," she nodded, watching the road. "And with the gradually widening schism between me and my parents, I figure it's only a matter of time before I either move out or get thrown out. So... I'm kind of pre-positioning the stuff that's important to me. In case things go wrong at State this year. My backup plan is to get a job and my own place."

"And you know..." she paused, waiting to make a left turn, "I'd really like to see you do that again."

Oh, fuck,

Larry thought.

Did she just say what I thought she said? How do I even ask what she meant? I mean, without bringing up the whole... wait a minute. She'd like to watch???

The concept was startling, especially to his relatively inexperienced but very imaginative mind.

"You'd like to see me..." he started tentatively.

"Doing yourself again," she finished for him. "It looked pretty bloody amazing. I'd like to watch."

Holy fuck, she

does

mean watch me sucking myself,

he thought.

What do I say?

"I can understand if you're uncomfortable with it," she went on as she pulled into a storage rental place. "So you don't have to say anything. I certainly won't. But you

are

built and it

was

cool and if you ever get the proverbial wild hair..." And with that, she pulled up to a roll-up door and parked.

"I have to go into the office and sign in," she explained as she got out. "They'll open the door and I can drive down to my unit. You can wait here." She headed off, leaving Larry to the war of emotions he was trying to hide.

Holy fuck!

was foremost in his mind. His all-time favorite masturbatory fantasy was coming on to him because she wanted to see him suck himself off. Again. Actually, she hadn't really seen him get off, since his Mom had opened the door while he was still trying to go for number five.

What am I supposed to do?

he agonized, waiting for her. Fortunately, his agony was short. Unfortunately, it was because she came out of the office as the door started going up. She got in the truck and without a word drove down the center of the lane between the storage units, until she reached one labeled 1-C-12. She lined the back of the truck up to it, then parked and got out.

"Come on, stud," she called to Larry, then went to the door, took out a key and unlocked the padlock securing it. She opened the door and turned on the light as Larry arrived with the first couple of boxes. Larry started to walk in, then stopped, staring. Half looked like your usual storage locker with boxes and tubs piled on each other. The other half looked like a medieval dungeon.

"Uh... where do you want these?" he managed to ask, shaking off the surprise.

"On the left," she told him, "except the two that aren't taped shut. They go on the right."

The left was where all the boxes and tubs were stacked. You can guess what was on the right. Larry eased in and put the two boxes he was holding on top of the left-hand stacks, then went and retrieved a couple more and kept at it until the only ones left were the open boxes to go on the right. He carried them in and looked around for a place to put them.