First Time Her Private Eye

"It's shitty but it's open," Marsh paused. "But you're right. It's late. Go home and um..." he snorted once again, "get back to your studies."

I hesitated a moment too long. I honestly couldn't believe Marshal was inviting me to stay up later with him and share a meal. His flat affect and black eyes were unreadable, but the room had suddenly bloomed with heat.

"Goodbye, Marsh."

I walked back to my car.

At home, Andy was sleeping on the couch. I tried to shut the door quietly, but he awoke. He was wearing his same small gym shorts, but this time he had a big lumpy college sweatshirt on with it. He looked adorable, peeking out from the oversized hood.

"Hey detective," he muttered sleepily. "How was the case?"

He must have seen something in my face, because he sat up and patted the couch next to him. "That bad, huh? Oh well, I'm sure other chances will come to be a PI."

I shook my head and plopped down next to him. Andy, without even thinking, put a protective arm over my shoulder. I settled my weight against him. "It wasn't bad at all," I said. "In fact it was... really exciting!"

Andy looked into my eyes, his thick black eyebrows crinkling. "Really? Did you actually take pictures of people... you know..." A slight blush crept over his neck and cheeks.

I licked my lips, unsure of what to tell him. I decided to tell a censored version of the night. A more legal version. "Actually Andy...I did! A woman was cheating on her husband in the houses he was trying to sell."

"What a bitch! But also, that's kind of kinky, having an affair in a brand new house where people will soon be living." He shivered a little, and squeezed me tight. I saw goosebumps popping up on his exposed legs beneath the gym shorts. Absentmindedly, I rubbed Andy's thigh to get some warmth back in it.

"The lady caught us, too, and chased after us with a knife. My car wouldn't start at first, and we just barely got away."

Andy stared at me with open amazement. This was possibly the most exciting story I'd ever told him.

"Holy shit, May. You're a real detective!"

I don't know what overcame him, but he reached up, grabbed my face, and kissed my forehead.

"I'm glad you're okay," he said. "Though I guess I don't need to worry with such a badass best friend!"

I laughed, and he slid from my side and stumbled to his bedroom door. "Goodnight, May," he said, glancing at me for more than a moment.

"Goodnight, Andy."

And as he shut the door, I repeated in my head over and over, 'He's gay. He's gay. He's gay.' And these words seemed to wrap up the absurdity of the evening, as before I knew it I had fallen asleep in the warm hollow Andy had left on the couch cushions.

The next day passed in a haze. I'd hardly slept, and in class my mind kept drifting to my adventure the night before. Everything felt so flat compared to the excitement I'd felt taking pictures of Cassidy and Marshal. And every time I thought of Marsh, I saw him with that black dildo in hand, holding Cassidy's face against the back of the loveseat, pumping the dildo in and out of her pussy until she came. All throughout the day, my own pussy was warm and wet, and my hard nipples teased against my t-shirt. I kept having to take deep breaths in private places to calm down. But then I'd think of Marsh once more and feel heat spreading between my legs and over my neck and face.

I was sitting in class trying to calm my body when the guy beside me asked, "Have you finished your architecture photography project?"

I blanched. I'd totally forgot! Erik, the guy beside me, read my face and ran a hand through his shoulder-length blond hair. "Oh no! I did mine on Hearst Castle, have you ever been?"

He started telling me all about the modern day castle, but my mind was racing. I was supposed to take pictures of the same building in four different lights, illuminating different aspects of its architecture. I glanced outside. It was mid-afternoon, and the sun was shining down, but you could see fog gathering on the horizon. If I started now, I could take a picture in the clear sunlight, then in the fog, then in the dusk, and finally at night. But where to go?

Suddenly, I knew just the place.

I tore out of class, and forced my car down to the Mission-style building where Marsh had his shop. The white adobe walls, small deep-set windows, and narrow staircases would catch the light or cast various shadows as the weather changed.

Before taking pictures though, I texted Marsh.

-Are you in the office?-

I might be able to get a few shots from inside his office. A detective in an office park, squirreled away with his fedora and a portrait of Humphrey Bogart. I imagined for a humored moment taking Marshal's portrait. How would I have him stand? Holding the revolver? In one of his hats?

My imaginary Marshal was wearing his trench coat. Then he took off the trench coat. Underneath he wore nothing but his tight orange briefs. In my imagination he reached into the trench coat pocket and took out a big black dildo. With his dark eyes, he commanded me to unbuckle my belt, pull down my pants and panties, and bend over.

My phone buzzed with a reply from Marsh. -No. Computer died, trying to get it repaired. Why?-

-Nevermind.-

I spent the rest of the day patiently photographing the Mission-style architecture of the office park. My instincts had been correct. As the fog rolled in, the white building became ghostly, devoid of shadows. Archways melted into staircases, and it seemed like one big shapeless mass. Then as the streetlights turned on, the building turned yellow, like an old canvas. The shadows became blue in the fog, a shadow staircase climbing the wall.

When I parked back home, I thought again of last night's conversation with Andy. More and more his behavior seemed strange. He had snuggled right up to me last night, practically placing me in his lap. I shook my head. Maybe it would be better to work outside of the apartment.

I walked through the dusk to Coffee & Pie. Inside were the night-time regulars, those ending a late day or starting an early evening. The boy was at the counter, wearing a brick button-down work shirt with the top three buttons undone to show a bare chest. I smiled at him.

"Americano and a slice of pie?"

"Just the pie."

"Cherry's good today."

"Alright."

"That'll be $3.50."

"Here you go."

"Thank you."

I sat down and started uploading the pictures of the office park onto my laptop. On photoshop, I adjusted contrasts, cropped the photographs, and searched for the four best entries for my project. I noticed the coffee shop boy purposefully look at my screen as he dropped off the slice of cherry pie. Today he wore these tight blue jeans dusted with flour. A smell of fresh-baked bread and vanilla seemed to float around him. His shirtsleeves were rolled up, showing off his dragonfly tattoo and another one of a sprouting acorn. I smiled at him, and he smiled back.

"Where's that?" he asked.

"Oh, just a nearby office park. I actually work for someone over there."

"Taking pictures?"

I paused for a moment too long. "Yeah"

He gave me an odd look, then returned to the counter. I swore to myself. When would I ever not be awkward with this guy?

Just then my phone buzzed. It was a message from Marshal.

-Did you delete last night's photos?-

I felt my heart drop. Was I supposed to? Marsh hadn't mentioned anything when we got back to his office. But then again, I was carrying digital copies of, basically, amatuer illegal porn on my camera.

I replied. -No. But I can right away!-

I picked up my camera, ready to wipe the memory clean. Then Marshal replied. -No, don't. My computer is totally dead. I need new copies. I'll check in with you later.-

I put my phone down and started to take a bite of pie. But my phone buzzed again. This time it was a message from Andy. I put down the fork and read it.

-I need to talk with you right now. Please come home.-

Now what could that mean? Possible reasons for his message flooded my mind. Had I made some kind of mistake as a roommate? Was I crossing a boundary from friend to predator? Was Rob moving back in? Or worst of all, had Andy realized I'd seen him masturbating the other day?

I realized I'd lost my appetite. I grabbed my computer and rushed out of Coffee & Pie.

The entire walk home, my heart pounded in my chest. I ran over the lawn and opened the door. Inside, the apartment was dark. Andy was sitting on the couch. He wore a tight white tank-top and his boxer-briefs. He sat with his legs crossed and his hands placed on his knees. The tank-top clung to his sculpted pecs and abs, picking out every curve of muscle. And with his legs spread, I couldn't help but see the outline of Andy's sizable cock. Andy looked at me, biting his lower lip. It was an odd set-up for a serious conversation.

"Andy-" I started, but a sharp voice interrupted me.

"Close the fucking door."

From out of my bedroom walked a familiar, thin-framed figure. Cassidy was dressed in a tight crimson long-sleeved shirt that comfortably cupped her round breasts, and a high-waisted black pencil skirt. She had on stilettos that raised her height so that she looked down menacingly at me. Her hair was loose and a little wild, a curled strand stuck to her cheek. She looked powerful and barely in control. A black briefcase lay by her feet. In her hand she held a tire iron.

I closed the door.

"Wh- who are you?" I blustered, trying to pretend I didn't recognize the woman.

"Cut the shit," she said, motioning with the iron for me to sit on the couch. "Go sit with your little boyfriend before I bash his head in."

I sat down next to Andy. He took my hand.

"He's not my boyfriend," I muttered.

"Oh what, stuck in the friendzone?" Cassidy teased. "Well guess what? I've got it worse. If you show my husband those pictures, I'm going to be stuck in a divorce. One in which I lose everything!"

He spat the last word and swung the iron, knocking over a jar of change we keep by the door. It shattered, spraying coins in every direction.

"So you're going to give me your camera, and I'm going to bash it to pieces."

I suddenly gasped. I had my backpack on, and my laptop in my hands, but I'd left my camera at Coffee & Pie.

"I don't have it. I left it at the coffee shop."

"BULLSHIT!" Cassidy screamed. She swung the tire iron down on our cheap coffee table, cracking the plywood in half.

My heart lurched. I clutched Andy's hand tighter. I thought of my cellphone in my pocket. If I could reach in and call 911, they might overhear our situation. I started to maneuver my hand towards my pocket.

But Cassidy saw me.

"Oh, great idea!" she cried out. She walked over, bruskly jammed her hand into my pocket, and grabbed my phone. She tossed it into the air and with a twhack! knocked it into pieces in mid-air. "Twelve years of softball!" he crowed.

"Listen Cassidy," I said. "I'm telling you the truth. I left my camera at the coffee shop because I panicked when I got Andy's message."

"That was her messaging you," Andy muttered. "I'm so sorry I got you in this situation."

I shook my head. "No Andy, it's my fault. I don't know how she found me but this is because of what I did last night."

Cassidy laughed. She was enjoying being in a position of power, just as she had last night when she walked into the kitchen with the gleaming strap-on. "Quite the Batmobile you have there. I could hear you driving away for ten minutes. All I did today was drive around listening to cars. And when I heard yours, I followed it. What a piece of shit rust-bucket. No wonder you're taking dirty pictures of strangers, you fucking creep."

"Cassidy, I swear, I don't have the camera," I said, my voice shaking.

Cassidy crossed her arms, the iron hanging by her side. "I'm not leaving until I get what I want."

Andy spoke up. "If you can't get the pictures, is there anything else you want? I have some money, or my computer."

Cassidy grinned. She eyed Andy, her gaze creeping from the muscles barely bound by his tank-top, to the obvious shape of his dick in the boxer-briefs. I saw Cassidy's nipples press up beneath her crimson shirt. Cassidy bent down and opened the black briefcase. She took out the purple strap-on.

"I'll get what I couldn't get from your man-slut of a friend last night. A good ass-fuck. Bend over and I'll let your detective friend go and get her camera."

Cassidy reached behind herself and unzipped her pencil skirt. Deftly, she lowered the skirt and stepped out in her high-heels. Underneath she wore lacy black panties. Her eyes still on Andy, she then stepped into the strap-on and buckled it around her waist. She reached up and spat loudly into her hand, then started stroking the purple head and shaft. In her other hand, she still held the tire iron.

"Do I need to break something else? Stand up sweet boy, and bend over the couch. I think that'll be a good shot for the voyeur here."

Andy and I looked at each other. The strap-on gleamed, huge and erect, at least ten inches long, and I could see fear in Andy's eyes. I shook my head. "No way, Andy. You can't let her do that to you."

Cassidy roared in laughter. "I didn't say it had to be her. You've got a tight little ass too."

I gulped. I imagined what it would be like, bent over the couch. Feeling the purple head of the strap-on pressing against my asshole. Feeling the pressure build, my asshole spreading, the lubricated head of the cock going in, in, feeling my asshole pushed in all directions as more of the dildo entered me, Cassidy holding the back of my head down and Andy watching.

Andy took my hands and looked deep into my eyes. "May, go get your camera. I can take it."

"No," I shook my head. "This is my fault. I'll survive. Anyways," I tried to grin bravely, "you're gay, so it'd be as bad for you too."

Andy looked at me oddly. "May, I'm bi, not gay."

"What?" I cried.

"Jesus!" Cassidy shouted. "Just decide who's going to get ass-fucked already!"

My head was swimming. Andy had just repainted our entire relationship for the last year. I'd assumed the whole time he was gay, because of his relationship with Rob. I'd felt so comfortable flirting with him, pulling naughty pranks, and teasing him all because I thought there was no chance he would ever be attracted to me. All those little kisses on the forehead, his arm around my shoulders...

Was Andy, in fact, in love with me?

I felt the tire iron tap me on my shoulder. I turned, and the purple gleaming strap-on was pointed at my face. Cassidy licked her lips, towering over us. "Who's it going to be, girl detective detective? Whose ass is mine?"

Suddenly the door burst open. On the other side, silhouetted in the twilight gloom, was a solitary figure in a trench coat and felt cap

"How about you decide, Cassidy?" Marshal Saint-Claud asked in his coldest, emotionless voice. "Right or left knee? Because I'm an excellent shot, and you're not even wearing a skirt." The shadow pulled a revolver from his pocket.

Cassidy charged at Marshal, the tire iron raised overhead. He dodged to the side and kicked Cassidy in the ass as she passed by. The woman went sprawling onto the lawn, tire iron bouncing wildly into the street. Cassidy sprung up onto her knees, her ass in the air and the strap-on dildo erect beneath her. She looked like she was ready to charge Marshal again.

Marshal levelled his gun. In a voice as cold and clear as ice, he said one word. "Run."

Cassidy bear-crawled to the edge of the lawn, then stood and sprinted down the street in her heels. The purple strap-on waggled back and forth, and we could see her bare legs in the lacy black panties for a long time.

After watching the fleeing woman for a while, Marshal stepped inside. He turned on the light and saw the mess in our living room.

"You need a more discreet car," he said, "for our next job."

I still sat with my arms around Andy, our hearts beating a similar terrified rhythm. Marshal motioned towards the broken furniture and spilled coins. "I'll grab a broom. This isn't the first fight I've cleaned up after."

For the next hour or so we straightened up the apartment. Marshal and I talked. It turns out Marsh had been threatened by many a victim and client. But his steel resolve usually won out in the contest of wills. Andy was mostly silent during this conversation, but I noticed his eyes on me throughout the evening.

At one point, Andy and I had dragged a few garbage bags out behind the house to the bins. Away from Marshal, we stared at each other silently. Andy walked towards me, and I wrapped my arms around his muscular chest.

"Oh, May..." he sighed into my hair.

I kissed the hollow at the base of his neck. "That was scary as fuck."

Andy looked down at me. He took a deep breath. "It really made me think about who is important in my life. Who would comfort me if I got hurt. Who would miss me if I... you know..."

I nodded, still holding him tight. I knew she could feel my heart beating through my breasts. It was a cold evening, and my arms had broken out in goosebumps. We were surrounded by the smell of garbage and cat piss. But even still, I did not want to go back inside. I wanted this embrace to continue into the night.

"May," Andy said shyly. "I think... I think I've figured something out."

"Yes?"

"I kind of realized tonight, facing the possibility of torture, of death, that there's someone I need to be honest with about my feelings. Someone I've been... unfair to for the last year."

"Yes?" I gulped. My heart ached to hear Andy's next words. He smiled and stroked my back, then buried his face into my shoulder.

"I need to go see Rose."

I froze in place, trying to not let Andy feel my disappointment.

"Can I take your car?"

Twenty minutes later, Andy had bumped and coughed the car down the block, and I sat in the living room with Marshal. I lay in a daze on the couch, and Marsh sat in a chair pulled from the kitchenette.

"Tough break, kid," he said, opening a can of beer. "It's been a long night."

I turned to her. "Why did you come here? How did you find me?"

He laughed. "I asked around about an annoying, rusty pickup truck. You're pretty easy to find, as we saw tonight. Even that dumb bitch Cassidy found you."

I nodded. That truck had brought me nothing but trouble. But then again, I remembered fondly sitting in the back of the truck with the frogs singing, next to Marshal.

"But why did you come here?"

He took a deep drink of beer. "The photos. My computer died and I lost all the evidence of last night's affair. I need to borrow your camera and upload the pictures again."

"The camera!" I cried. "I totally forgot. I don't have it here, it's at the coffee shop!"

I sat up. "How'd you get here? Can you drive us?"

He shook her head. "I took a taxi."

I was confused. "How were you going to get home?"

Marsh took another long drink of beer. And then another. He didn't answer for a while. "I, uh... hadn't thought that far ahead."

I took a long look at Marsh. He still wore her trench coat, and underneath a linen shirt and jeans. I noticed his eyes glance towards the door and then away, almost embarrassed. I looked closer into the night. Outside, hidden next to a potted plant, was Marsh's gym bag. I wondered for a moment what Marsh had brought to my home, and why.

"Marsh, will you wait here while I get the camera?"

Marsh shook his head. "I should get going back. It's a beautiful night for a walk, foggy and cold, just as I like it."

He stood up and, buttoning the trench coat over his broad shoulders, walked to the door. Sheepishly, Marsh picked up the gym bag. Then he turned back towards me and tipped his cricket cap. "Here's looking at you, kid."

And then Marshal Saint-Claud walked out into the foggy night.

I stared after him for a long time. My heart was a nest of confusion. Thoughts of Andy and Marsh raced through my head. Was I some kind of idiot, or a heartbreaker? Had I been flirting with Andy and Marsh this whole time? Were these beautiful men actually interested in me? Or was I just projecting my excitement, my desire?

I wished, in that moment, that I was a better detective.

I got a thick sweater and ran out the door. I charged down the foggy street back to Coffee & Pie. In the window I could see stools placed on top of tables. 'Damn, I thought, 'it's closed.' However, a light glowed from some back room.

I came to the glass door and knocked. No answer. I tried the door, and to my surprise it was still unlocked. I opened the door slowly, trying to not let the bell above it jingle. I crept inside.

At the back was the table I'd sat at. But there was nothing there. Of course, they would have put the camera in the lost and found.

I heard some movement from behind the counter. There was a door marked 'Employees Only,' slightly open. Soft light leaked from behind the door.

I don't know why I didn't call out.

I walked behind the counter, behind the glass cases empty of their pies, by the espresso machine and the milk steamer, past bags of coffee beans. I opened the door.

Behind the door was a combination of an employee's lounge and storage. The walls were lined with shelves loaded with bags and boxes of beans, machines, and cooking supplies. In the center of the room was a wooden table with some folding chairs. And in the back was a couch, a lumpy twin to the one in the main room.

The boy with the sandy hair sat on the couch. He had my camera in one hand. He had unzipped his tight jeans and taken out his cock, and the other hand was busy stroking. His work shirt was unbuttoned and below I could see a smooth, hairless chest.

He looked up at me and I looked down at him.

I put a finger to my lips. "Shh."

I walked to him and took the camera from his hands. On the digital screen was a picture of Cassidy deep-throating Marshal's cock. I put the camera on a shelf and lifted my sweatshirt and shirt over my head in one motion. I tossed them on the table, took off my bra, and knelt in front of the coffee shop boy.

He was staring at me silently, his blue eyes wide and yet hot with desire behind his black-framed glasses. He started to say something, but I shook my head.

I wrapped my fingers around his swollen cock. Precum beaded above the big purple head. I rubbed my thumb over the precum, the spread it around. The boy groaned with pleasure. He reached up for a moment, but I said, "Keep your hands there."

With one hand I kept swirling my thumb over the head of his cock, covering it in precum. With my other hand, I started barely touching his shaft, just my fingertips playing over its length. The head of his cock swelled even bigger, and more cum beaded up. I felt my mouth watering. I started stroking his cock, slowly, feeling its firmness. I lowered my head and ran the tip of my tongue over the head of his cock. I licked up some of the precum. It was a little salty, but not bad.

On the couch, the coffee shop boy was breathing heavily. I could almost hear his heart beating.

I kept my lips mere centimeters from his dick and kept stroking. I put both hands on his shaft and slowly moved my hands up and down. Finally, slowly, I brought my lips to his cock. I kissed the head, then moved my lips down and over the swelling. It was so warm and tasted barely of sweat. Saliva flooded my mouth, and I ran my tongue under the head as I continued to stroke with both hands.

Suddenly I felt possibilities open up before me. I'd been so afraid of this moment, so hesitant in all my dates to reach the time when I'd have my shirt off and a cock in my hands or my mouth. I was afraid I wouldn't know what to do.

But now I had so many ideas.

I wanted to feel the cock everywhere.

Starting with my throat. I had the sudden burning desire to know how deep I could take it. How much of this cock I could swallow.

I looked up into the boy's blue eyes. I lowered my head slowly, feeling the cock slide down my tongue towards the back of my throat. As the head of the cock pressed against the back of my mouth, I felt myself cough and gag. I pulled the cock from my mouth, thick ropy saliva dripping all over it. I took a deep breath and recovered. The dick looked so good gleaming like that. I started stroking it faster and faster, moving my hand all the way from the purple tip to its base. I swear it grew even harder and bigger with each stroke.

I lowered my mouth to it again. Knowing how it would feel this time, I suppressed my gag reflex and took the cock even deeper into my mouth. I felt it press against the back of my throat and then slip deeper. I pressed my nose all the way to the boy's jeans, feeling his dick swollen in my throat. I swallowed, and my throat muscles pressed against it. I held the cock there for one second, two... I counted all the way to eight and then pulled back, gasping for air. As I panted, saliva dripping down my chin and onto my breasts, I kept stroking the shaft.

I looked at the coffee shop boy again. His face was flushed in ecstasy. His hips started bucking, pushing against the rhythm of my hand. I realized he was getting close to cumming. I slowed my stroking down to a minimum, just moving it up and down about an inch at the base of his cock.

The coffee shop boy gulped and finally spoke, stuttering in his passion. "Y-you took those pictures?"

I nodded.

"God, they're so hot. When I saw your camera, I couldn't help myself. I started flipping through the pictures. And when I saw that woman and man... I just got so horny. Being here all alone, I started fantasizing about you coming back and finding me. And then you walked through the door."

I started stroking hire up the shaft again, just a little at a time. The head was swollen up bigger than a strawberry. I couldn't imagine fitting that swollen thing into my pussy, or anywhere else.

"This is my fantasy," he whispered. "Right here, right now. I- I want to fuck you so bad."

I grinned at him. "I want you to keep stroking," I said, and stood up. "But don't cum. Not yet."

I unbuckled my pants and slipped out of my panties. The boy on the couch masturbated slowly, his eyes running over my body. I watched his hand, taking note for the next time I had my own hands there. My pussy was hot, red, and wet. I stood with my legs spread around his knees. The boy's cock was pointed straight up at my pussy, an arrow headed for its target.

But I wanted this to last.

With one hand I started kneading my breasts. I ran the other down over my abs to my throbbing pussy. I ran a finger over my clit and through my pussy lips, hooking it around and then sliding it in and out.

The coffee shop boy started stroking faster, his eyes on my tits and my pussy.

As I fingered myself, my palm pressed against my clit, and my other fingers encircled my pussy lips. I started sliding my finger in and out, faster and faster.

I thought of how I had just deep-throated the boy's cock, and what I was going to do next. I felt fire in my pussy, heat spreading over my chest and up my neck. But I felt a quivering somewhere else, too. I thought of Cassidy with her strap-on and her threats to fuck my ass. I realized the thought turned me on.

I put two fingers in my mouth and coated them in saliva. I reached back and, as I fingered my pussy, I rubbed saliva between my cheeks over my asshole. My hips started rocking back and forth. It was an incredible, uncontrolled feeling. I started breathing faster and faster.

Just below me, the coffee shop boy unbuckled his belt and slid his pants and underwear down and off. With one hand he continued to stroke his cock, and with the other he started massaging his balls.

I kept fingering my pussy and watching the boy masturbate. I couldn't believe how big and hard his gleaming cock looked. I kept rubbing my asshole, and then I slid a finger inside.

"God!" I cried out.

It was an incredible feeling of both power and powerlessness. Heat spread from my asshole to my pussy and all throughout my body.

I grabbed onto the boy's shoulders and stepped up onto the couch. I crouched down and lowered myself onto his cock. In one swift motion, I buried his dick deep into my pussy until my hips were pressed against his. I lifted myself until all except the head of his cock slid out, then pounded down again, hard. Over and over, I bounced on his dick, feeling it fill me, feeling my clit slam against his hips.

I lowered myself to my knees and once again swallowed up his cock into my pussy. I started grinding myself against his hips, chasing the fire I felt every time I rubbed my clit against his skin. I lowered my chest to the boy's face and he started sucking on my nipples. I moaned loudly and bucked harder, slamming my pussy down over his cock again and again. The boy reached around and grabbed my ass in a strong hand. He kneaded my ass like dough, then slipped a finger between my cheeks and pressed it against the rose of my asshole.

"Yes!" I screamed. "Yes! Yes!"

I ground harder, harder. I reached down with one hand and started rubbing furiously at my clit. The boy slipped one finger into my asshole. I screamed out, grabbed the boy's head and shoved his face into my tits. I felt myself climax. My body shook with pleasure. I grabbed a handful of the boy's sandy hair, pulled his head back, and gave him a deep kiss, my tongue sliding into his mouth.

I stayed there a moment, panting. Then I reached down and slid his cock out of my pussy.

It was coated in my juices, and still rock hard and swollen.

I turned my body so that I was crouching on the couch cushions, my ass in the air. I started stroking the boy's cock again, and lowered my lips. I took the cock in my mouth, bobbing my head, letting it fill my mouth and then rising up again. With one hand I grabbed the boy's balls in a firm grip, and with the other I held the base while my head bobbed down and up.

The boy reached over and slid a finger into my pussy. He started finger-fucking me while I sucked his cock. My pussy, still sensitive, quivered under his touch. His arm rubbed against my ass as he fingered me.

I felt the boy's balls tighten up within my hand. I lowered my head further, relaxing my throat. The head of his cock pushed past the back of my mouth and entered my throat. The boy pumped his fingers faster, and I felt myself building towards a climax again. I kept his dick deep in my throat and suddenly the coffee shop boy groaned loudly. I felt hot cum shoot down my throat and I swallowed and swallowed and swallowed. His release triggered mine. I reached back and grabbed his hand, keeping his fingers in my pussy as I came a second time.

I lifted my head, feeling his cock slide out of my throat. Saliva and cum hung from my lips. I could see that the boy's hand was coated in my own juices.

Laughing, I lay back on the couch and put my legs over his lap. Playfully, I held his now limp, but still long cock between my calves.

"Jesus," he laughed. "That was amazing."

I laughed, relieved. "Yeah, that was... incredible."

Suddenly he looked into my eyes. I saw embarrassment there. "Can I tell you something? I... I don't even know your name," he said. "When you introduced yourself to me, I didn't catch your name, and then another customer came and it was too late."

"Oh my god!" I laughed. "I was going to tell you the same thing. I couldn't hear your name and then I was too ashamed to ask again. I'm May."

She smiled at me. "I'm Chris. It's been nice to fuck you, May."

I laughed again. "It was fantastic fucking you, Chris."

Chris sighed, and then lowered himself to the couch so that he was spooning me from behind. "I don't want this to be over," he said.

I nodded. I thought of the last two days. I thought of seeing the Craigslist ad for the photography job. I thought of watching Andy touch himself and nearly touching myself at the same time. I thought of Marshal, with his orange briefs and black dildo. I thought of him using the dildo on Cassidy.

Then I thought of Cassidy with her knife. Cassidy with her tire iron and strap-on, threatening Andy and I. Marshal with his gun. Marshal with his gym bag full of who knows what, at my house, on a foggy night.

I thought of my virginity, that I'd carried like a shameful secret for so long.

I huddled within Chris's embrace and cried.

I was releasing something that day. I was releasing my shame, or my virginity, or my naivete, or my cowardice. I don't know. But the sobs rushed out of me, taking Chris by surprise.

Unfortunately, it wasn't the reaction he was looking for.

I'd love to say that I got the guy, and that we're having hot sex every night in the apartment where I used to flirt with Andy. I'd like to say that Andy and Rob got back together and got married and adopted three children. I'd like to say that Marshal went on to have a long career as a successful private detective, and that he and I never faced danger like that again.

But none of those are true.

In truth, Chris wasn't looking for a relationship, and he was also really weirded out by my crying. In time, our conversations devolved back into asking for, and receiving, an Americano and a slice of pie.

Andy and Rob were on-again, off-again for the next year. When they were off, Andy showered me with affections. We continued to flirt and to prank each other. And once we both got drunk and masturbated in front of each other. But nothing else developed past friendship.

Marshal Saint-Claud did have a long career as a private detective. I continued to help him in his cases. But we couldn't avoid the dangers inherent in a career of investigation. We faced threats far worse than Cassidy, and not without paying a cost.

But that's a story for another time.