Trash Night

This was one of a number of stories I published on anon.penet.fi in the 1990s. I found a trove of them while browsing through some old CD-ROMs, and decided to give them new life on Literotica.

***

Proper attire can make almost any activity a pleasure — even taking the trash out. I often liven up this mundane chore by leaving it to Noreen — my tarty TV persona.

I'm five-foot-three and one-hundred-ten pounds, with a slender, narrow-shouldered body that someone (admiring Noreen) once described as "jailbait with a cock." I have little facial hair, and keep what hair I have on my lithe torso and limbs depilated or shaved, except for a neat little triangle at my pubes. From long practice, I can apply flawless makeup to my small, soft Asian-doll features. My slim, shapely legs rise to a deliciously full, feminine ass that Noreen loves to show off.

I live in a medium-sized apartment complex with a large central courtyard. Taking the trash out involves crossing the entire courtyard, passing through the building's well-lit front entrance, and around to the trash bins on an adjoining alleyway. As Noreen, I savor this journey, lingering in the pools of light cast by the courtyard's lamps, admiring my girl-self reflected in the glass of the entryway, and basking in the headlights of passing cars as I mince along the sidewalk in feminine garb, Glad bag in hand.

One late night, feeling particularly sexy and daring, I cinched a sleek black leather bustier (augmented with pert silicone breast forms) onto my slim torso, and tucked my little boy-clit into a lacy black thong. From its tiny vee front, barely large enough to cover my trim bush, a fringe of lace swooped up to accent my girlish hips, and stretched back from there to frame the soft globes of my derriere, before diving down between my cheeks. I clipped on a pair of black hoop earrings, fluffed my bangs, made sure my French braid hairpiece was pinned securely, and freshened my ruby lipstick. I stepped into a pair of high-heeled mules, slipped the loops of the trash bag around my wrist, and pranced out the door into the warmth of a spring evening I'll never forget.

I sauntered through the courtyard, the click of my heels echoing softly from my neighbors' units, most with windows dark, some glowing blue from televisions within. I posed in the lights of the entryway like a stripper on a runway, doing turns in front of the glass and admiring the leggy, brazen slut reflected there.

The air was cooler on the sidewalk; I reveled in its caress on the bare, creamy cheeks of my ass. I reached the dumpster, and stretched up prettily to toss the bag into it. The lights of an oncoming car illuminated my skin. I heard it slow, so I turned, and smiled over my shoulder at the wide-eyed driver and his frowning wife. She turned to him, and the car sped away.

There's a small suite of offices across the street from my building; I often go there after tossing the trash, to see Noreen reflected in the large office windows, or to pose under a floodlight like a receptionist waiting for her ride after working late. This night, I crossed to the veranda of the nearest office, and stretched and preened in front of its wide window for long heavenly time. Noreen was dazzling, perching her delectable ass on the porch railing; posing tiptoe on the steps, her taut, thong-framed backside presented to passing traffic; and just generally giving a lascivious display of her barely-clad body to the velvet night.

It was past midnight when I reluctantly decided to return to my apartment to prepare for bed. As I neared my building's front entrance, a shape detached itself from the pines that lined the porch. I saw that it was one of my neighbors; I didn't know his name, but I'd often seen him muscling his Harley into our parking garage. I decided that boldness was my best course, and continued to strut confidently toward the doorway.

"Evenin', neighbor," he said, as I neared.

"Hi," I breathed, and gave him a small smile.

He stepped into my path, and smiled down at me as my heels clicked to a stop. "Loved the show," he said, nodding across the street at Noreen's recent stage. "May I walk you to your door?" he asked.

As I gazed up into his blue-gray eyes, I was suddenly aware that he was a very attractive man. A heady male musk emanated from his broad chest, inches from my face, and a certain animal warmth flowed from him and enveloped me. "Sure," said Noreen's voice, sounding very far away. He turned and motioned me through the door. "Ladies first," he said, with no hint of mockery. A sudden thrill rushed warmly through me, and my breath caught in my throat. Hiding my excitement, I moved into the entryway with sultry, hip-swinging steps. My neighbor followed close behind.

As we passed the mailboxes, the back of his hand brushed my bare butt. I gasped at the sensation of his rough knuckles on my creamy flesh, stumbled a bit, and stopped short as his hands dropped gently to my naked shoulders to steady me. Time stopped as we stood there together; then he gently pushed me back against the cool plaster of the nearby wall. His hands slid around my hips to cup my ass cheeks in his large, callused palms; then he lifted me up and pressed me to the wall. "I — " was all I could say before his lips found mine.

He explored my unresisting lips and mouth with a practiced tongue before he let me up for air. With a quick twist of his hands, he ripped my lace thong from my body, and tossed it onto a nearby pile of junk mail. His long, thick fingers found the boy package between my legs, and started caressing it gently. I don't get erections when I'm Noreen, but the sensations were electric.

"I know what you are," he said. "I watch you all the time. I think you're just gorgeous." Another thrill washed through me, heightening the pleasure his unhurried fingers were causing. The world went away as his lips and tongue returned to my mouth.

He lowered me onto unsteady legs, and turned me to the courtyard. "My place," he said, steering me in that direction. His apartment was in the back of the courtyard, a few doors down from mine. Although I was in an erotic daze at the time, I can recall every detail of our walk across the courtyard — my ass now truly bare to the night; the echo of my steps in the silence, my uncut penis exposed and bobbing in time to the click of my heels; and my neighbor's warm hand in the small of my back, escorting me like a prized prom date.

He opened his door and guided me inside. Suddenly, there was cool leather against my face as he pushed me face down over the arm of his sofa, leaving my ass in the air. Then exquisite pleasure blasted away all other sensations as his tongue found my asshole.

His technique and pace were virtuosic. Sometimes he slowly bathed the rose of my pucker with the warm, rough flat of his tongue; sometimes he teased my smooth-shaven boy-pearls and perineum with quick flicks of the tip; sometimes his stiffened mouth-muscle threatened my butthole with penetration; and sometimes it felt like he did all of these at the same time.

My sanity was long gone when he started tongue-fucking me in earnest; my asshole opened like a flower to accept more and more of his astonishingly long tongue. During a mind-bendingly slow, deep series of tongue penetrations, he smoothly switched to splitting my lubricious hole with his fat cock. I was already bucking with an epileptic orgasm when he finally thrust his one-eyed monster balls-deep into me.

I must have lost consciousness then. When a dim awareness returned, I found myself on my back, my knees pinned firmly against my breast-forms, as he fucked me on the carpet like a twenty-dollar whore. Aroused anew, I pumped my hips to meet his thrusts with equal passion. Our cries must have rang in the courtyard when his hot flood finally erupted and overflowed my ass-pussy.

I called in sick to work the next morning, and spent the day in a post-fuck languor, reliving the evening's events in my head. When I checked my mailbox after lunch, my torn thong was still lying there amid the junk mail. I retrieved it, and just stood awhile in the warm sunshine, remembering.

I'm Ben's weekend bike-slut now; Noreen spends Saturdays and Sundays straddling Ben's Harley, spandex and leather augmenting her jail-bait figure. We ride the day as Ben shows off his bike and his "girl;" in the evening, Ben rides that girl into a fuck-coma. But during the week, when Ben's work often takes him away, I still love to take out the trash.