We Saw Fireworks

Unable to resist a woman begging, I reached down and unzipped my shorts, pulling my hard-on through the flap and baring it to the night. It was too dark for her to actually see it, but her hand went directly to it anyway, finding it my feel. Her fingers grasped me, stroking up and down, smearing the pre-come that had oozed out over the shaft. Now it was my turn to groan as I felt the touch of someone beside myself for the first time in forever.

"Sit still," she told me. "Let me do it."

"Okay," I grunted, actually fucking into her hand.

She turned back towards the island and raised her butt up. With her free hand she pulled the back of her skirt upwards, baring her naked ass and her dripping crotch from behind. She eased herself backwards, until she was sitting on my lap, her back to my chest. My hard-on was now between her thighs, the shaft nestled against her wet lips. She raised up a little more, pulling upward on my cock, until the head was pushing between her lips. Teasingly she rubbed me back and forth a few times.

"Do it," I commanded, putting my hands on her waist and pulling her downward.

She came down willingly, my cock sinking slowly, deliciously into her tight box. We both groaned at the connection. My lips went back to her neck as my hands began to prod her to move up and down.

She began to rise and fall, slowly at first, with short strokes. Her juices were now running down my cock, into my shorts and probably staining them. I didn't care. The friction of her tight passage felt so damn good.

Out on the island, the fireworks continued to ignite and the Ukrainians made another error, this one much more dangerous than the other. One of their fireworks hit the top of a tree as it launched and was deflected back towards the ground. It hit just on the shore of the pond, less than fifty feet away from the nearest of the crowd. It bounced back up again and streaked over our heads, twisting and turning and showering us with sparks and smoke. Everyone except Suzanne and I hit the dirt. It then slammed directly into the winery building where it exploded with enough force to break a window. Glass fragments came raining down on those sitting near the building.

"You assholes!" Remington screamed at them. "That is enough! Stop lighting those things and get off of that island immediately!"

But the Ukrainians didn't listen to him. Instead, they lit off another two shells, both of which managed to make it to the quadrant of the sky to which they were assigned. Remington didn't say anything else.

I continued to fuck Suzanne through all of this, my pelvis rising up and down while hers ground atop me, clenching and releasing my cock. Though a few pieces of burning firework had drifted down around us, we had been untouched by the barrage.

"Make me come," she told me. "Oh God, make me come!"

I began to pull her down harder into me, grinding myself upward with more force. Our strokes became faster and the juices from her pussy began to flow more copiously, until both of us were drenched in them. She turned her head towards me and started kissing me, her tongue shooting into my mouth and attacking mine. I returned the kiss greedily, no longer caring that anyone who happened to glance over at us during one of the fireworks flashes would easily see what we were doing.

We kissed and fucked, our tongues probing each other's mouths, our crotches mashing together in a wet union of cock and pussy. My hands left her waist and wandered beneath her skirt once more, traveling upward, over her hips, through her pubic bush, across her soft stomach, and up to her breasts. I pushed them forcibly beneath her bra, grabbing her tits roughly, squeezing them and pinching the hardened nipples between my fingers.

"Yes, yes, yes," she panted into my mouth.

She came just as another errant firework streaked off to the south of us and blew up in a row of grape vines. Her pussy clenched around my thrusting cock, her hands tightening against my legs, her teeth clamping down on my lower lip nearly hard enough to draw blood.

"Mmmmm, ohhhhhhh," she groaned, shuddering all over, her legs spasming between mine.

Her clutching vise upon my tool set me off as well. Just as her spasms were dying down, mine began. I began to thrust upward with more force, actually bouncing her into the air now. In response she grabbed the bottom of my thighs in order to leverage herself down upon me.

"Come in me," she told me, biting at my lip again. "Shoot your come in my pussy!"

The filthy mouth on her high-class face served to speed my release. The waves of pleasure began to build within me, rising to a peak of ecstasy. I let out my own groan and my hands squeezed extra-hard upon her tits. The peak was reached and the pleasure exploded outward. I began to shoot, blast after blast of hot come into her clutching chasm.

"Ohhhh," she moaned, feeling it. "That is so fucking hot!"

I shot what seemed a gallon, until it was overflowing and running down into my crotch. Finally the last dribble spurted out and the last thrust of my pelvis wound down to a halt. I slumped down a little bit, feeling our combined juices soaking into my shorts and my crotch. She slumped against me, giving me one last teasing kiss.

Just as she eased off of me and back to the ground the Ukrainians made their final mistake of the night. They launched one of their fireworks into one of the island's trees again. This one bounced back and forth between several of the trees and then went straight down, right to where the Ukrainians were all standing.

Remington's yell of outrage was easily drowned out by the screams of panic from the Ukrainians themselves. The firework, which had yet to explode, had landed right in the midst of their supply of unfired goods. They broke and ran, busting out through the shrubs as if they weren't there and diving headlong into the water of the duck pond, where they began swimming madly for shore. They were about halfway across when the firework exploded, igniting the rest of the stockpile that was stacked around it.

Suddenly fireworks were streaking off in all directions. No less than five of them streaked directly towards the crowd. Some went into the air and slammed into the winery building, others skipped over the water and flew only feet above our heads. Shrieks of simple rocket motors and booms of concussions filled the night. Flaming pieces of gunpowder and cardboard were flying everywhere.

This time I did get down, pulling Suzanne with me. I landed with my face directly against her discarded panties, the smell of her musk in my nose. A firework exploded less then thirty feet above me, showering me with burning debris. I had to stamp out several small fires on my clothing with my bare hand. Suzanne had to do the same. Despite the danger of the situation, both of us were laughing madly as we listened to the panicked screams of the others.

A few more explosions rocked the night and then it was over. The roof of the winery building was afire in two places, the shingles smoldering with smoke and flame. Two or three fires had also sprung to life in the vineyards, which were dry this late in the season. But the most impressive fire of all was on the duck island. Most of the fireworks that had been ignited had exploded right there and had showered the dry palm trees and brush with flames. They had lit up like tissue paper in response and were now blazing away, the flames shooting thirty or forty feet into the air. The Ukrainians, perhaps knowing when to cut their losses, had all made it safely to shore and were now nowhere to be seen.

"Is everyone all right?" I heard Remington yell at the crowd, most of whom where still in a state of shock at what had happened.

Several people cried out that they had been wounded but no one seemed to be seriously injured.

I looked over at Suzanne, who was still giggling as she lay next to me on the grass.

"My husband throws a hell of a party, doesn't he?" she asked playfully. She picked up her panties and balled them up.

"You got that right," I told her, giggling a little myself.

She looked down at my crotch, which was now plainly visible thanks to the various fires that were burning. "You'd better cover up a bit," she said.

My cock, now wilted but still quite wet, was hanging out of my fly. If it had had a face, there would have been a satisfied expression upon it. Quickly I stuffed it back inside and zipped up. I could do nothing however, about the huge wet patch that ran from my upper thighs to nearly the button.

"I think it's about time I made my leave," I told her. "You'll give my regrets for not saying official good byes?"

"Of course," she told me with a smile. "It's been fun. You're a good dancer."

"Maybe we can dance again some day," I said.

She gave a cynical smile. "Maybe," she said, without much conviction. "But in the meantime, why don't you take these to remember me by." She handed me her panties.

I took them and stuffed them into my pocket. A moment later I was walking towards the parking area and my car. Five minutes later, though I was undoubtedly well beyond the legal limit for driving in the state of California, I was on the road.

As I headed for the highway I passed several fire engines and ambulances heading in the opposite direction.

*****

That was pretty much the end of my career at BR&D. Somebody—probably more than one somebodies—had apparently seen what Suzanne and I had been up to and reported it to Remington. Or maybe Remington himself had seen us. I don't know. No one ever told me. No one ever said anything about it to me. But all the same I found myself ostracized at the firm. No one would talk to me anymore and I wasn't given any more assignments of any importance. Two weeks later I was told by a senior partner (not Remington) that things just weren't working out with me, that I wasn't quite BR&D material. I was given a decent severance package of course, but I was fired all the same. Truth be known though, I didn't really care.

These days I'm still an accountant but I work in Sacramento now for the State Franchise Tax Board. I actually make more than I did at BR&D although the potential for advancement is no longer there. I'm doomed to spend the rest of my career there making $75,000 a year with only step and cost of living raises to look forward to. I still don't care. I live comfortably and, most important of all, I work forty hours per week. No more, no less. I go into work at 8:00 AM, Monday through Friday, and I emerge at 4:00 PM. There are no exceptions, no mandatory overtime, no pressure from above. To me it is paradise.

I never saw Mrs. Remington again although I heard that Mr. Remington divorced her about a week after my severance from the firm. I still have her panties though and every once in a while I still take them out and give them a little sniff. The smell of her still remains on them to this day.