Sex Collections: NEEDFUL FLINGS: A three-volume hot, hung, and hungry sex collection (9 page)

BOOK: Sex Collections: NEEDFUL FLINGS: A three-volume hot, hung, and hungry sex collection


Mattie shrugged, seeming bored by replaying her most recent sexual conquest.


“Yeah, so what? I was horny, and so was my friend. We had a good buzz on and I felt like doing it, so it happened. I don’t regret it for a second.”


“What about your friend, is she ok with it?”


Mattie’s mouth fell into a slight frown.


“Oh, she’s a little embarrassed about it, but she’ll get over that. Pretty soon she’ll be asking me for another hook up, or we’ll just laugh about that time her tongue was inside me. I’ve always had a thing for sex in public. Maybe it’s the idea of getting caught, or people watching…whatever it is I enjoy it. I don’t do it a lot, but when it feels right I say bring it on.”


Porter felt himself begin to harden inside his pants as Mattie explained how she came to know Oleg. He already wanted badly to be inside of her.


Somehow Mattie sensed Porter’s condition as she leaned across the table to whisper at him.


“You’re getting hard, aren’t you?”


Porter was shocked to find himself blushing.


“Maybe – a little.”


Mattie licked her full red lips and glanced downward toward Porter’s crotch.


“A cock that big doesn’t do anything just a little. Can I feel it?”


Porter looked away, not understanding why he felt so embarrassed. He was paid to have sex with strangers for an Internet video site for god’s sake.


“What, right here?”


Mattie was already scooting her chair over toward Porter’s side of the table.


“Just a touch! Don’t worry, I’ll be careful.”


Porter sat motionless, both panicked while also very turned on. The slight hardening from a moment ago had transformed into a full, throbbing erection which threatened to break through the denim fabric of his jeans. His eyes looked straight ahead as Mattie’s right hand reached under the table and slowly traced the outline of his cock and then inched downward to gently cup his balls as she let out a low, hushed moan.


“That is truly an incredible thing you have there, Porter. I’ve been with a number of good-sized dicks, but they were usually a bit on the big and floppy side. That thing of yours is big and hard. I don’t think I’ve ever felt a man get as hard as you are now. You ever been with another man? I have to think the gay fellas would love to spend some time with this.”


As she said the word “this”, Mattie’s hand rubbed Porter’s shaft several times for emphasis, causing Porter to inhale sharply as he struggled to hide his escalating desire to throw Mattie on the table and take her that very moment.


“Yeah, I’ve been with a man or two. I’ve let them suck me off. Just today I watched three men fucking in a sauna. I was getting off watching them. I’m a lot like you, Mattie. I say if something turns you on, go for it. No shame, no regrets – just good times.”


Mattie withdrew her hand and began moving her seat back to her side of the table. Porter noted how flushed her own face was while she did so.


She’s as turned on right now as I am.


Porter filled up their wine glasses once again, emptying the first bottle.


Mattie’s eyes looked at the second remaining bottle.


“Looks like we’re going to have ourselves a two bottle night, Porter.”


Porter’s eyes widened slightly as he moved the wine glass toward his lips.


“Is that a good thing, a two bottle night?”


Mattie’s eyes flashed mischief as she bit down on her lower lip.


“It means anything is possible. And I mean anything…”






“You’re late, Oleg – again.”


Oleg Teplov was indeed late, which he knew was not a good idea considering it was a meeting involving the most brutal Russian crime boss from Vancouver to San Diego, a man who after just a few years in the United States, had come to be known as “Fingers” due to his penchant for snipping off the tips of fingers from those he deemed worthy of punishment, but not quite yet worthy of losing their life. A lost appendage first, and then if that didn’t work, a slit throat or a bullet in the skull would suffice.


“I apologize, Roman, workday traffic. I should have left earlier. Before we continue, please take this payment as a gesture of my respect.”


Oleg handed the white envelope to Roman Brogin’s always-present enforcer, Vlad, the man who actually carried out the finger cutting – and worse.  Vlad quickly handed the envelope to Roman and then looked at Oleg with unblinking, ice-flint eyes.


Roman opened the envelope, frowned, and then looked up, clearly disappointed in its contents.


“What the fuck is this supposed to be?”


Oleg shifted nervously on his feet as he fought to remain calm in the presence of such dangerous and unpredictable men.


“That’s forty thousand dollars, Roman. I know it’s far less than what I owe you, but I thought it best I prove my intention of paying you back as promised.”


Roman grunted as he shook his head in disgust.


“You come here with forty thousand dollars when you owe over a million? That’s not a gesture of respect, it’s a fucking insult!”


Oleg lowered his eyes to the floor of Roman’s private office in the back of one of the most popular and lucrative strip clubs in North Seattle and remained very still, not wanting to further aggravate the Russian mob boss.


“What do we do about this, Vlad? He owes me money, a lot of fucking money, and brings me pennies. He’s six months late. Am I a man who allows people to be six months late in paying me?”


Oleg shook his head while keeping his eyes on the floor.


“No, no you are not. I’ll be back next month with another $100k, maybe more. The restaurant, it cost me a ton of money, I had a kitchen update, a leaky roof, a state audit, and uh, the real estate market is still shit, my rentals are losing money too.”


Roman held up his right hand, signaling Oleg shut up. He looked at Vlad once again and received a shrug of the shoulders from his enforcer.


“How much is that restaurant of yours worth, Oleg? I’ve been there, it’s nice. Good location, I hear Capitol Hill is prospering.”


Oleg’s internal alarms sounded. He feared Roman would make a play for the restaurant, and now it appeared the mob boss was doing just that.


“I’m not interested in selling my share of the restaurant, Roman.”


Roman looked up at Oleg with eyes absent any semblance of humanity. At that moment Oleg sensed how close he was coming to never walking out of Roman’s office alive.


“And I’m not interested in you making these pathetic payments. I just turned seventy! I’ll be dead and gone by the time you finally pay what is owed me! If I want your restaurant, I’ll have it, understand?”


Oleg straightened himself to his full height and looked directly into Roman’s eyes.


“You’ll have your money next month – all of it. If not, you can have my share of the restaurant.”


Roman’s eyes narrowed, lending his fleshy drooping face the appearance of a suspicious pig.


“How do you intend to come by that much money so soon, Oleg? Are you doing business in this city I am not aware of? Would you betray your allegiance to the one who helped you make a home for yourself here? Would you insult me again?”


Vlad took a step toward Oleg, the large, heavily built Russian’s right hand reaching into the side pocket of the long black trench coat he always wore regardless of the season. Oleg held up both his hands and took a half step back.


“Call off your dog, Roman. If you hurt me tonight, it will be that much more difficult to get your money back. I’ve given you my word, now let me leave here so I can get to work on paying you back in full by next month.”


Roman stood up, revealing the dark blue velvet track suit in all its geriatric glory, partially hiding a forty pounds overweight body gone to hell years ago. Oleg could not recall seeing Roman wear anything else.


“You have until next month, Oleg, and then I will take your restaurant and your fingers too. Now get the fuck out of here.”


After Oleg left the office Roman sat back down and then pointed at Vlad.


“Make some calls, have him followed. I want to know where his money is coming from and if that son-of-a-bitch has been holding out on me.”


Vlad nodded silently and then left the office as well, leaving Roman sitting alone to ponder the future of Oleg Teplov as the sound of the strip stage music coming from down the hall vibrated the walls and floors of the low lit space.


If he’s been holding out on me, that cheap little cocksucker is a dead man.






Mattie and Porter’s conversation was intersected by an increasing amount of teasing laughter as they progressed toward finishing the second bottle of wine. For Mattie it was the most enjoyable meal she had had in a very long time. Porter, though he was not yet ready to admit it to himself, he was already falling in love.


“Let’s play a game!”


Porter smiled, enjoying the light dancing off of Mattie’s dark, alcohol drenched eyes as he refilled their glasses with the last of the wine.


“A game? What kind?”


“Question and answer. No lying allowed, and you have to answer.”


Porter sipped from his glass.


“I thought that’s what we were already doing.”


Mattie waved her right hand in an exaggerated motion, her words slightly slurred.


“These will be fast questions, one right after the other. Fast question and answers, ok?”


Porter shrugged, happy to have a chance to keep the dinner date going.


“Ok, I’ll ask the first question.”


Mattie was about to protest but then took a long drink of wine and giggled.


“Bring it on, big man.”


“What’s Mattie short for?”


Mattie tilted her head to the right and scowled.


“Huh? I’m not that short.”


Porter rolled his eyes.


“No, your name – what’s it short for? Remember, you have to answer.”


Mattie’s scowl intensified. Porter found the look utterly adorable. The longer he sat across from the pub table with her, the more he wanted her in every way possible.


“I know the rules. Ok, but no laughing, got it?”


Porter nodded, trying to look very serious but sensing the effects of the alcohol was making the attempt more difficult.


“I promise.”


Mattie cleared her throat and then paused for a moment before answering.


“Matilda. It was my great-grandmother’s name on my mom’s side. I hated the name growing up. Always sounded like a fat old woman to me, or maybe a witch, but now I guess I kind of like it though everyone has called me Mattie since I was a kid.”


Porter offered a quick half smile and then finished off the last of the calamari.


“It’s a nice name.”


Mattie took another large drink and finished up her wine.


“Yeah, it works. So now it’s my turn. What’s your favorite song of all time? Not your favorite song now, I’m talking favorite song ever.”

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