Short Story, Anti-Hero
Always Leave Them Smiling
Tying Susie up and whipping her until she screamed stimulated more areas than I thought possible
The wind howled around the corners of the cabin.
I looked at the cover of the book, “Terror at Bobby’s Lodge.” A trashy horror story. I mean, a well-structured sentence would surely read:
The wind whistled through the rafters.
Laying down in the compact bed of the lorry’s cab I thought back to my English teacher. He’d encouraged my thirst for literature and acting. My family couldn’t have cared less. I should have studied English A’ level but instead was working at sixteen, in a knicker factory, packing. Any free time I had was spent at the local amateur dramatics group in Leeds.
But it was at work I discovered my real talent — making women happy. I would get heckled whenever I went to collect the lingerie from the machinists,
“Come on cutie, wanna get your hands on my knickers?”
Initially I blushed, but soon retaliated, “As long as they’re clean, love.”
Always leave them smiling.
Can’t tell you how their faces shone. I possessed the power to give them that moment. But it was Betsy who put a smile on my face. Dropped me a note on my seventeenth birthday to meet her in the car park at lunchtime. Married, twenty-eight, gorgeous full figure. Once at her place, it was trousers down.
“Whoa boy, you have something to offer,” she mewled, clasping her lips around my knob. My balls began smacking against her chin - by unburdening me of my virginity she’d taught me I could please a woman. When we fucked there was no faking her cries of elation. That birthday present shaped my life.
A couple of years passed. I began to fill out, welcoming banter from the ladies down the local.
“You look like that guy in the movies, yeah, same smouldering eyes.” I’d grin back and for effect comb the wavy hair from my forehead.
Always leave them smiling.
It had been difficult to find a girlfriend who shared my admiration of books, but I notched up a few conquests while looking. You would, wouldn’t you? I landed the male lead in a local production. It did well and toured, achieving a little bit of celebrity. After the show, girls were always waiting. Greedy for attention. Why not? A looker like me. I didn’t want to disappoint and got a thrill from giving them what they wanted. No harm done. They were more than happy to get their hands inside my flies, and I made sure we had a good time.
Once back at work I met Susie. My, she was cute. Saw her on a bench in the park reading one of my favourite novels. I sat down next to her. Looking up she brushed a lock of fair hair from her face, and at that moment I quoted from the book,
“Do you hear the nightingale singing?”
She giggled sweetly.
Susie had a great job — legal secretary — and we quickly became an item. She wanted me to take control. You know. So my sex life took a lively turn. Working at the factory didn’t challenge me. Tying Susie up and whipping her until she screamed stimulated more areas than I thought possible. Her marks and bruises bore witness to our desires. Then, when we made love, she would climax and hold me as if I was the last man on earth. I liked that.
We got engaged by accident. I was having a laugh and quoted from a novel,
“It is you only I intend to marry,” and got down on one knee in an attempt at satire (always leave them smiling).
But Susie, a romantic, took it seriously.
“Yes, oh yes,” she shrieked, giving me such an astounding blow job as a reward I wished I could’ve proposed twice.
Within a year we were married with a little one on the way. Needing a better-paid job I left the factory, and gave up acting too. I liked my own company so long distance lorry driving fitted the bill and by volunteering for the trickier jobs I earned a tidy sum each month.
I knew from day one the freedom of the road was for me. It gave me time to think. I got some audio books and caught up on the classics. My HGV was smart — a Leyland Marathon with a top of the range sleeper cab. Susie bought me a modern continental quilt from Woolworth, very warm. Once I had installed a CB radio, and tied my monkey mascot on the front grille, I was ready to roll.
Our delightful daughter was born soon after and the months turned into years. Life seemed complete — until I laid eyes on Lara.
I was in a transport cafe browsing a poor attempt at a tragedy,
No, don’t leave me alone like this…
I was shaking my head in disbelief — a twelve-year-old could write better — when Lara put my coffee on the table. Her skirt fell open slightly and catching a glimpse of leg, I had to have her.
That evening, as we walked to the cinema, the stars shone brightly. Lara’s tits jiggling as she tottered beside me. Then, sitting in the back row, her smell intoxicating, I whispered in her ear,
“You are so ready.”
I’d used that line over the years. Simple, but effective.
She parted her legs slightly as my hand landed on her thigh. No panties. My cock went from springy to hard as fuck in seconds. I pushed my fingers down her moist slit. The warmth welcomed my touch, and as I explored, her cunt throbbed.
Enough! I liberated my cock, grabbed the back of her head and pushed it down to my lap. I stared at the movie screen while Lara took care of me as if she was being paid. Her delicate lips exerting just the right amount of pressure, deft fingers teasing my shaft and balls. What a girl, she gobbled my juice down in one mouthful. No mess. No fuss.
When we got back to her flat above the cafe I had to have her again — there on the table. Always ready with a jacket for my little man, I didn’t wait for an invitation, sunk my cock deep into her pussy. Staring back with large blue eyes, as her legs embraced me, she was something to behold. Looked like a 50s starlet. Our moans could’ve been heard down-town. Eventually we slept, only for me to wake in the middle of the night and take her once more. Couldn’t get enough. Chemistry, plain and simple.
I made my delivery but visited Lara’s cafe on my way back. Some dude was coming on to her. I burst in, the cowboy from a western. Swaggering over I immediately decked him, declaring,
“You shoot to kill, you better hit the heart.” The only pulp-western quote I could think of.
Then turning to her, “Marry me, be my wife.”
“Oh Johnny, do you mean it? Tell me you do and I will be so happy.”
Well, I wanted her to be happy — always leave them smiling. So we tied the knot.
It was convenient too. Just outside Oxford, on my route. I’d study her working in the cafe — that dainty, trim frame moving between tables with ease, saving her best smile for me. Then fucking as soon as we got in the door until her cunt and my cock were raw from the abuse. I couldn’t keep my eyes or hands off Lara, still can’t if truth be told.
Now I’m in Southampton. The walls of the small cab are covered with old newspaper cuttings about my past acclaim. Not that I miss acting. Juggling a job and two homes keeps me busy, and it’s great when I see Susie. She works part-time. Our daughter, a proper little book-worm, started school recently. I certainly don’t want her to be a latch-key kid like me. Over dinner Susie and I enjoy discussing what I’ve read or listened to on my trip, and reminiscing about how I was almost famous.
I glance back at the horror story beside me as the door opens and the wind howls around the corner, into the lorry’s cabin .
“Here you go Johnny, coffee.”
“Thanks, gorgeous.” I pick up the book, “this trash is going in the bin. I’ll lend you one of my novels.”
Ah. Did I forget to mention Gwen? Six months ago she was sleeping rough. It’s 1979, a young woman shouldn’t be homeless in this day and age. I’d just collected the bonus for being the safest driver within our company, so I slipped the girl fifty quid and never expected to see her again. But she found me, after fixing herself up with a little job and bedsit, wanting to say thanks. Scrubbed up well. Pin-up looks. And you’ll know what I mean when I say her gratitude stretched all through the night into the next day. Gwen’s keen to learn about life and I’m always happy to teach. What’s a guy to do? She’s quite young but so am I… at heart.
“Thanks, Johnny. Let me under the quilt. I love being in the cab with you. It’s really cosy. When we’re married we’ll have a small place of our own, like you said, won’t we Johnny? That’ll make me so happy.”
This story is linked to the Erotic Deluxe Meme…
More from May…
