Submitted to the
Literotica Summer Lovin' Story Contest 2024
I woke up sweaty and cranky.
My mom had this weird idea that by naming me Joy, she made sure that I would be happy all my life. But I'm usually cranky when I wake up. That's no big deal, but the sweaty part really sucked.
I had not slept well. Even with a fan blowing full blast, it was like a tropical rain forest in my upstairs apartment.
Besides which, the guys who live downstairs are in a shitty band called the Noisy Neighbors. They were practicing in the basement until about two a.m., trying to learn the changes in Mr. Brightside, so Noisy Neighbors was a good name for them.
They didn't like my suggestion that they call themselves the Fumble Fingered Bums, but we get along okay. Things had been a little tense a while back, because I was hooking up with the bass player.
Yes, it's true, I fucked the bass player.
It didn't work out, but everybody acted more of less like adults about it. Still, I was pretty pissed that they had made a racket half the night.
I couldn't lay in that clammy bed any longer. I got up and went to the window. The digital sign at the credit union across the street said it was 9:35 and the temperature was 86°. Fuck me, I thought, it'll probably hit a hundred this afternoon.
If the heat wave was just uncomfortable, that would be one thing, but I was making decent money doing cam shows. There is probably an audience that wants to watch sweaty chicks play with themselves while bitching that it ain't the heat, it's the humidity, but I didn't have the energy to go hunting for it. So until this heat wave broke, I was going to have to tighten my belt.
I looked in the fridge. There wasn't much to eat, just half a container of Peking Palace shrimp fried rice left over from the day before. I took that and a can of Pepsi over to the kitchenette table. I didn't even zap the rice, I just ate it cold out of the box.
When I finished, I tossed the box in the trash, guzzled down the rest of the Pepsi and, after belching like a fucking sea lion, went back to my bed. I flopped down and took my stash box from the night table.
I was thinking that if I got high and masturbated, I'd be able to sleep some more. Then later, I'd go out and get something to eat at Taco Bell. Maybe go to the movies. The sweet, air conditioned, movies.
But when I opened the stash box, all that was in it was about an inch long roach and a baggie with a few stems and seeds. I mumbled a couple of insults at myself, then lit the roach. It would have to do for now. I could go to Bernie's and buy some weed when I went out.
I got a little bit of a buzz before it burned down to my fingertips. I snuffed it out and laid back on the bed.
I licked my fingers, them slipped them into my underpants and diddled my clit. Closing my eyes, I tried to conjure up an enticing fantasy. The first image that came to me was of Frank. It often was. Nobody had ever fucked me as good as he did. I pictured myself, face down, ass up, getting railed hard. I could feel myself getting wet, but then my mind drifted to that shitty scene when he told me that he was splitting for Arizona with that bitch Brenda. My arousal just dropped. At least I could take some satisfaction that it was probably a fuck of a lot hotter there.
I tried again, remembering that chick I had danced with the week before at Club Diamond. We had kissed at the bar, but then we somehow got separated. God damn it, why hadn't I gotten her number? Again, I just fell out of the mood.
I cast my mind around, trying to think of something that would turn me on. It wasn't usually hard. Hell, I once watched Jurassic Park on TV and spent the next two weeks getting off on imagining fucking Jeff Goldblum.
Now, I was getting nothing. I gave up and went into the bathroom. I turned on the shower and brushed my teeth while I waited for the water to warm up.
As I showered I thought about my current finances. I had some money in my savings account, but I didn't want to move it over to checking. I had no long term ambitions, but I was well aware that I couldn't show my pussy to online pervs forever.
Somebody told me once that every time you see one of those little dishes at the check out that says "take a penny, leave a penny" you should always take a penny, and eventually, you would be a millionaire.
They left out that by eventually, they meant in ten thousand years, but it's a good point anyway. So I was trying to be careful with my money.
After I finished my shower and dried off, I got my wallet out of my backpack and sat down on the bed. I got out my cash and counted it.
I had enough for a dime bag, lunch and a matinee. Not much more. I'd have to do a show later, whether I wanted to or not.
I tied my hair up to keep it off my neck, and went to the bureau to get dressed. Bernie was pretty easy to manipulate. I figured I'd show him a little flesh. I might save a few bucks, or maybe he would kick in an extra blunt or two.
I had a pair of white shorts that were really short and a size too tight. I dug them out of my drawer and squeezed into them. I didn't put on any underwear because just about anything I had would've shown, and I didn't want to ride around town with a whale tail.
I did put on a sports bra, and then a pink crop top with shell sleeves. I got out my red Chuck Taylors and a pair of ankle socks and put them on.
Looking myself over in the mirror on the closet door, I knew I would definitely be giving Bernie a raging hard on.
I stuffed my wallet in my backpack, strapped it on my shoulders, then headed down the back stairs.
I crossed the weedy backyard and opened the shed to get my bike. It was so hot in there I could hardly breathe. There were about a million flies buzzing around the windows trying to find a way out.
I love my bike. It's a teal Weize seven speed cruiser. A two hundred dollar bike that I didn't pay a penny for. One of my cam show fans bought it for me off of my Amazon wishlist because he loved the way I called him a cocksucking cuckold.
I walked the bike down the driveway. By the time I got to the sidewalk, I was already wiping sweat off my forehead. The credit union sign told me it was already up to 89. I climbed on the bike and peddled down toward Clark Street.
There was a little Spanish bodega on the corner. I got off my bike and chained it to a utility pole.
Even in the store it was hot as hell. The owner was behind the counter. He had a wet towel around his neck and a rotating fan pointed right at his face. He was from Guatemala or someplace like that and I figured that if it was too hot for him, it was definitely too fucking hot for me.
I bought two bottles of water, a bag of peanut M&Ms and a cherry popsicle. When I opened the door to leave, the wave of heat almost knocked me down.
I took off my pack and put the candy and water inside. I realized the back of my shirt was soaked with sweat so I didn't want to put the pack on, so I put it in the bike's basket.
I unwrapped my popsicle and stuck it in my mouth. I ought to get some of these for my cam show, I thought.
I mounted up and rode down Clark. I felt like I was starring in a post apocalypse movie. There were no people on the street, no cars going by. Other than the occasional hum of an air conditioner, it was completely silent. No bird singing, no insects buzzing, no hip-hop or country tunes pouring out some open window.
Kennedy Boulevard was more alive. The traffic was still light, but at least I wasn't the last human on earth.
The sun was in my face and sweat beaded on my forehead and stung my eyes. As I rode past the strip malls and fast food joints I thought about going inside somewhere, just to cool off in the AC, but it was going to get hotter as the day went on and the sooner I got to Bernie's, the sooner I could out of the heat.
After about fifteen minutes, I turned into Centennial Park. It was cooler in the shade of the trees. I stopped and took one of the water bottles from my pack. I chugged down a few gulps, then poured some into my hand and splashed it on my face and the back of my neck.
There were some people in the park, not many. A couple of old guys sat on a bench, feeding peanuts to a few lethargic squirrels. A man and a woman were sleeping side-by-side on a blanket under a tree. There were even a couple of dudes on the basketball court. They were only wearing gym shorts and their sweaty bronze bodies glistened in the sun. For a few seconds I considered stopping to watch them, but I kept moving.
I came out of the park by the south gate and zigzagged through a warren of residential streets. It wasn't a bad neighborhood, but it had seen better days.
I turned onto Bernie's dead end street. His house was at the very end. There was a big oak tree in the front yard. It blocked the sun, so there was no lawn, just a patch of dirt and dead leaves.
