Dani and the Christmas Dildo

I'm very taken with Dani, and here she is in her own element. As always, you can enjoy this story without reading any of my other stuff, though it's a loose sequel to Tales of a School Cop. I'm submitting this in the Winter Holidays Contest, so make sure to read all the entries and vote for your favorites.

Enjoy!

* * *

SEABORNE -- The local arts community has received a much-needed injection of intrigue with D Marie Lynne's debut exhibit, Light and Form, currently running at the East Bay Gallery through January.

Lynne, a sculptor and mixed-media artist, has assembled a remarkable collection of deeply moving and critically significant works. "We've been very impressed by the turnout, especially for such a young artist," says gallery director Brad Lawrence. "We've had the honor of hosting many debuts, but I can't remember one that generated quite this kind of buzz.

"Sales have been very brisk," he adds.

Lynne, just 20, hails from East Adams, where she was very active in her high school's arts club. "She was a real jewel," recalls teacher Evelyn Booker, "one of the best painters I've ever taught. Really a great eye for design and form."

"We're all proud of her," adds Officer Michael LaFratta, the school's police officer. "She made a big impact while she was here. She was always open to new ideas and experiences."

Lynne runs a small private studio in South Seaborne. Her show has generated significant out-of-state interest as well. "Yeah, the gallery interest from New York and Chicago has been surprising," Lawrence admits. "We're currently fielding calls from all over, actually." Given the substantial interest, Lawrence is in talks to represent Lynne professionally.

"Unfortunately, it's all too rare that such a promising young artist gets such significant attention, but it couldn't happen to a more talented lady. We're all eager to see what she comes up with next; of course, the East Bay Gallery might be too small to deal with her by then!" he laughs.

Light and Form runs through January 7^th. Admission is $12.00.

* * *

Bob had requested my Holiday Cumshake Special, which was no surprise; he'd requested the same thing when I'd called it the Pumpkin Spice Cumshake Special, the Summertime Cumshake Special, the Fourth of July Cumshake Special, and the Valentine's Day Buttheart Cumshake Special. It was my signature move, one I'd come up with myself the previous winter, but it hadn't really come into its own until I'd gotten Tori involved. As always.

The act, as you might have guessed, involved what Dirty Liz Prossi had referred to a cumshake. You take the semen, add a few drops of water (for volume), and shake it furiously until it gets all thick and gloppy. Then you toss it back while the guy watches, causing him to worship you and give you monster tips. "See, the shaking separates the sperm a little," wise Lizzie had explained. "So if you toss it back the right way, it goes down real easy and the guy doesn't notice the streaks left on the glass."

"Shit." She was marvelous. Once she'd left I'd created the "special" by sucking it out of the guy's ass, though later I'd developed that into a more specialized move, and that's where Tori had come in. She'd been excited when I told her my idea.

"Wow, Dan. That's a really interesting problem." She was in grad school for organic chemistry or some shit like that, so she'd applied herself to the problem with all the power of her formidable brain and all the love in her sisterly heart. She'd developed calculations involving things like molality and specific gravity, and then she'd developed a spec sheet. She'd done various hands-on tests, for she knew many willing donors. When she'd brought the specs to the foreman at the university glass shop, the guy had scratched his head.

"1 g/ml for density? And you want to do what with it?"

"I want to decant it into a v-shaped, irregularly-surfaced channel so that it flows down at a rate of no greater than 100 ml/hour for 4 c.c. of solution."

"4 c.c. at 1 g/ml?" He'd rubbed at his chin, sketching on an isometric pad. I'd stood aside and watched, fascinated; I'm always interested in seeing other artists work. "Irregular surface? That'll throw off the drip rate."

"Not a problem," Tori had replied crisply. She was good at this science shit. "The final drip rate can be variable within, say, a 12-15% range." They'd gone back and forth, haggling like Renaissance fishmongers, and a week later she'd shown up at my shop with a beautifully made piece of custom glass, of scientific quality and guaranteed to work. It looked elegant and professional, and I fell in love at once. "It should work. Want to test it on Michael?" she'd asked, so we'd hopped into her car and headed back to East Adams.

He'd been awed. We called it The Earner.

So now Bob was going to get his Holiday Cumshake Special. I waited patiently while he fucked me; he was going at it hard, really shoving into my asshole, but this wasn't the main act. I was just waiting for him to cum, so that I could start my work. So far, so good; totally routine. I kept myself nice and relaxed, and I'd made sure his dick was well-greased. That thing was torpedoing in and out of me smoothly. "Oh yeah," he was grunting, like he always did. I found myself mouthing his words as he spoke, like karaoke. "You're a hot little slut, Ellie. I love fucking your sweet ass." A particularly hard thrust lifted me off my feet, and I whooped for him. "I'm about to fill it full of cum."

"Do it, stud." I knew what he liked to hear. I put a little whine in my voice, like I was in pain. "Get that cock in there and shoot your sperm in my dirty shithole." It was like reading from a script. "You're hurting me so good, baby!" I started counting down in my mind... five, four, three, two...

He spanked me right on cue. I made sure to tense my sphincter, as he expected. He was panting; I felt his sweat raining on my back. I'd need to take a shower before my next patient. "Get ready, you whore," he groaned; I whined and went into my standard fake-orgasm routine, and I was still doing that when I felt the spreading watery sensation in my rectum, the immediate sense of fullness. I gasped involuntarily, and then I propped my elbows on the table and prepared to go to work.

Bob smeared his body against my butt for a few seconds, corking me in, and then he smacked my asscheek and staggered back with a frothy dick. I reached for the Earner, sitting handy next to the table I'd been bent over, and with well-practiced motions I slid it carefully through my legs. "Fuck, baby," I moaned, "you ready for the cumshake?"

"Hell yeah." Bob collapsed into my armchair, his big belly jiggling. "You're the best. The fucking best, Ellie."

"Aww, thanks hon!" I crowed, but I wasn't really paying attention. It was one of the first things Dirty Lizzie had taught me when I'd come to work here, once it was obvious I was going to take her place as the resident buttgirl.

"These are dirty men, Dani," she'd advised me. "They like nasty shit. The only thing they like better than shooting their cum into us is watching it drip back out. You need to be able to do that, and be sexy about it."

It was like shitting, I'd learned, but you had to be careful: on my first try, I'd pushed too hard and sent the cum flying out along with two little turds. I'd been mortified, but fortunately I'd been with one of Southside Chiropractic's filthiest patients, a famous libertine named Andy. He'd simply bent down, picked up my shit, and smeared it all over my face and hair, his dick spasming the whole time.

He'd tipped me $600 for that. It was the most I'd ever made, but I'd decided it wasn't worth it.

So I learned, pulsing my sphincter just the right way, and out it came. "Watch this, Bob," I gloated, holding the Earner steady as I listened to it fill with the load he'd just fired into my asshole. It was a nice big one, and I heard him give a ragged sigh. "You like, baby?"

"I like, Ellie." He sniffed. "I like a lot."

"Mmm." I finally felt the last of it drizzle out, sitting in the Earner with a slight brownish tinge. Goddammit; I should have done another enema. "You wanna wipe my ass, Bob?" No commitment; sometimes he did, sometimes he didn't.

"No thanks, honey." He was settling down. "I'm good."

"You sure are." I straightened slowly, seductively, letting him watch my back flex. I was proud of that. I'd always been pretty hot, but not muscular; that had changed once I'd gotten into forging and blacksmithing and all the rest. I was a fucking powerful little bitch now. I took the Earner carefully in my hand and sauntered back to the grinning Bob, winking. "One cumshake, coming right up sir."

Tori had given me a fitted glass lid for the Earner, and I screwed it on and started shimmying. There was a song that went with this, words by Ellie "the Tatted Vixen" Lynne and music by "Dirty" Lizzie Prossi.

"Cumshake, cumshake, shake that cum;

Cumshake, Cumshake, fill that bum.

Stir it and shake it and down the hatch,

Cumshake, cumshake, fill that snatch!"

The last line was important, see, because a cumshake could be made vaginally as well as anally.

Bob lounged back, watching shiny-eyed as his semen shook, and when I'd done it as long as Tori told me to I squatted down and looked up at him, all sultry. "I'm ready for you now, sir," I quavered, in full schoolgirl mode; I'd made sure to crouch down right where I always did, having paid careful attention to my blocking. Some men liked to watch on the webcam behind me.

Bob knew what he was doing. He lumbered over and bent down into a football player's stance, his head craned up so that he could look at his own wilted dick upside-down; Bob liked to watch live. He backed himself up until his balls were resting on my forehead. I giggled when his cock, smelling like my ass, came to jiggling rest beside my nose. "Perfect, honey. You ready?"

"Hell yes." I gave his ballsack a fond kiss, and then I reached way up with the Earner, muscle memory giving me the confidence of long practice, and tipped it down so that the mucky, separated semen drizzled squarely into his asscrack.

He shivered as he felt the fluid run down along his anus, creeping over his perineum, tickling at the back of his scrotum, and I was ready. The drip rate was perfect, neither too fast nor too slow, a credit to my sister's careful math, and I pushed my nimble little tongue gracefully out to catch the congealing drops of cum. It was watery enough to go down easily, the heavier sperm clinging to the sides of the Earner and letting only the thinner, tastier fluid to come flowing down to me.

The perfection of the whole thing nearly gave me an orgasm, I swear. I love art, and that Earner was a work of art.

* * *

I sipped at my tea and sighed. "Too much, Tori."

She squinted at me, looking as glorious as she always did; she was a supremely beautiful woman, poised, sexy, and confident. Makeup on point. I had no idea why I'd ever been hung up on seeing her fuck; watching her take a dick, once I finally did (Mike's, of course), had been a work of art, too. "I told you it wasn't easy work," she said mildly, even carefully. "There's a reason why the oldest woman there is, what, 29? And she doesn't even put out much." Somehow, her heavy lipstick left no mark on her straw; even that was classy.

I'd need to learn that trick.

"Oh, it's not the work," I insisted, shrugging. "That's fine, and the money is... well, you know the money." She nodded. Three months she'd worked at Southside Chiropractic, and in just that time she'd made enough to pay off every student loan she had. And that paled by comparison to what I made; Tori hadn't done anything but straight sex.

"I know the money."

"I guess I'd say," I went on, groping for the words, "that it's not what I do there, really. It's what I don't do there."

She blinked, and you could practically see her brain working in there. She'd always been quick. "So, you're missing a normal sex life."

I snapped my fingers. "There you go. That's it."

She chuckled. "Well, Dani, it could be argued you've never really had a normal sex life. Right? Like, I'd hardly call it normal, sleeping with a cop. Or dating a forty-year-old. Or pole dancing."

"That's rich." I arched an accusatory eyebrow, but I wasn't mad at her. "You're the one who set me up with the cop. And the forty-year-old." I took another sip. "And I only danced for a few weeks."

"Still," she shrugged, "that's when you started at Southside. And there you remain." She smiled warmly. "It should be easy for you just to go out and find a boyfriend. Shouldn't it?" She picked at her sushi. "I know a bunch of great guys I could introduce you to..."

"See, that's what I'm saying." I shook my head. "I love you, but no. I think that's part of the point: my whole sex life has been based on you, on things you've helped me with."

"Mostly." She smiled warmly. "I had nothing to do with that little shit Jose."

"Mostly," I agreed. "But that's the point. If the best I can do without you is Jose, then what kind of woman am I?"

She chewed her rice the same way she did everything else, with care and precision. "I'm sorry, Dan," she said at last. "I've only ever tried to help you. I didn't mean to hold you back."

I grabbed her hand from across the table. "Honey! Please! You've been the best sister I could ever have asked for! No, no," I went on, shaking my head. "I'm not blaming you at all." I sighed. "I just... I want a man. A good, normal, attractive man. I want to go out and have a nice dinner and then take him home and fuck him, all nice and vanilla."

"Vanilla sex is overrated," she shrugged, "but I see your point."

"I'd prefer him unmarried and in at least decent shape. I don't want any money to change hands. I don't want to feel like I have to swallow his cum, at least not out of his ass. Unless I want to."

"I never did understand why you do that shit," she observed. "Mind you, I did try it once. There is a certain dark, sketchy thrill to it, I'll admit."

I frowned and leaned back in the rickety Japanese chair. "I guess I'm just curious how normal people fuck," I admitted.

She dabbed at her lips with a napkin, leaving no lipstick. Christ, were her lips tattooed? I leaned in to check; I'm in the trade, so you'd think I'd know.

"Well. I've got to get going, Dani. I'll ponder what you've said... you're sure you don't want me to set you up with someone? There's a nice, vanilla-looking guy over in the tRNA lab; he'd be wicked easy, and probably very sweet in bed."

I smiled thinly. "No ma'am. I don't need a sweet guy I need to prod into my vag. I want a sweet guy who wants to fuck me." I frowned. "Shouldn't be that hard, I would think."

"Nope, it shouldn't." She threw some money on the table. "Go sit on Santa's lap, see if you can make a Christmas wish. Or hell, Hanukkah. Might as well cover your bases; Aunt Marie's Jewish." He paused. "Speaking of which, you going over to Mom's for Christmas? I think Tony's got a new girlfriend we can haze." I sighed. Tony, our shitty little brother; he was a senior in high school.

I shrugged, still smiling, as she stood. "Maybe. I'll let you know." She still looked so, so sexy, even in an everyday outfit meant to be covered by a lab coat. "Thanks, sis. I'll call you."

"Love you." The street outside was packed; she disappeared quickly.

* * *

The apartment I kept in back of my shop, upstairs, was compact and cozy, with a window overlooking the space. Back when this place had been all warehouses and cabinet shops, these had been offices. I liked to stand there sometimes in the evening, with the moon coming in through the skylights, and look around at my forge, my anvils, my power hammer, my long shelf of crucibles; all neat, all tidy, all mine. All but the mortgage paid in cash, and even that was no sweat; $2800 per month was a piece of cake for me. I was at the point now where I could pay every cent of that out of my legit wages, the ones from the tattoo parlor, while banking everything I earned taking dick.

I was proud of myself, standing there naked in the dark with a glass of whisky and a compact little blunt. And my show! Shit, my show was going great. Brad wanted me to come out to East Bay on Saturday to do a meet-and-greet with local chamber of commerce types at a Christmas reception he was hosting. He said he had a regional magazine guy coming to do an interview.

He'd told me to dress Christmasy, but I strongly suspected that was just Brad, setting me up for a prank. I'd have to bring along a change of clothes.

* * *

I was working at my design book in the employee lounge when Steffi came in. "Hey!" she called. "You ready?"

I looked up and blinked, not really there. "What?"

"Our three o'clock patient is here. Remember? You said you'd help me out?" I blinked, slowly coming back to reality, finally remembering why I was wearing regular clothes.

"Oh! Sorry. I was daydreaming." I hurried to put away my stuff and get some lipstick on. "What's this guy into again?"

"CFNM. He likes to be controlled. Not really dominated, just powerless." She scratched at her ass. "Couple of slaps, some bruising; he's good with that. He's been seeing me for, oh, a little over a year?" We stood up, inspected each other quickly, and nodded. Ready. "He likes me to bring along other girls."

"Huh." We passed out of the employee lounge and into the maze of innocuous-looking corridors that made up Southside Chiropractic. "What's he like to do?"

"No rhyme or reason." She stepped over some anal beads someone had left outside the door for the cleaning staff. "Sometimes mouth, usually pussy. Occasionally ass, but he never cums there. His not-sheet hasn't changed in months." The not-sheet was the list of what the patient wouldn't want done to him, or with him. Depended on how you looked at it.

"Okay." I was still kind of new here, especially compared to Steffi; she was 24. She'd been to real nursing school. "Look, I don't want to get in your way or anything, with your guy. I mean, let me know if you want me to back off."

She laughed dryly. "He usually ends up picking me anyway. But even if he doesn't, he still keeps coming back. No worries, Dani; you do whatever you want." She grimaced. "To tell the truth, I wouldn't mind if he ended up with you. I had a wild one this morning; I'm fucking sore."

"Don't look at me." My ass was still slightly throbbing. My own last patient had been large and in no mood to be patient. "It's an effort to walk straight right now." It wasn't really; I knew how to take a cock. But it didn't hurt to let Steffi think I was just a normal prostitute, like her. I followed her through a nondescript white door into Room 134.

The patient sat on a plastic chair totally naked and totally soft. He was a youngish guy, attractive enough, with a beer gut. "Hi, Carl," Steffi sang as we came in. "I brought a friend. This is Ellie. We call her Ellie the Vixen."

"Hi, Ellie." Carl's voice was a pleasant baritone, but ultimately it was nothing special. I'm always a little bit surprised when men who come to us aren't already hard, but I'm used to it. Step one was to get him erect. "Nice to meet you."

I didn't smile, my high heels loud on the floor as I came out from behind Steffi, marched up to the seated man, and gave him a ringing smack across the mouth. He stared up at me, his dick twitching already. Great! "Look at little Carl, sitting there all meek and humble, like he's the one who's got a pussy and not us." I raised my foot onto the chair and dug my toe underneath his balls. "Check it out, Steff. He's just going to sit here and, what, chat?" I laughed nastily; it always amazed me how quickly I could get into this kind of thing.