This was a fun little number inspired by a request by "Belle" to "write something with a fireman in it". Much to my surprise it just...well, came to me, as it were. I take considerable liberties with the reality of life in a firehouse (I have had several relatives who were firemen...I'm irish and from NYC. Of course I do), so true professionals should be prepared to suspend their disbelief completely in order to enjoy it.
Oh, and Belle said it got her off...so I suppose it could be considered "hot".
She could feel herself getting wetter by the minute.
The sun's heat seem to beat almost everyone on the street into submission, a dominant natural force determined to crush will and desire. Even though Andrea had showered less than an hour before she set out for some much needed groceries (the bulk of which would be liquid), she felt like toweling herself dry had been an exercise in futility. Even clothing her ample form as sparsely as she dared she felt like she was suffocating under the weight of fabric against her skin, trapping moisture against her, making her feel almost claustrophobic.
The car's ancient AC was working only sporadically, and (more often than not) tended to cause the engine to over-heat. Rolling down the windows seemed to only emphasize how hot it was, but the alternative was to roast in her own juices more than she already was.
Half way to the store she passed the fire station, located only a few blocks from her house. One of the large red engines was parked in front being hosed down by a rookie who obviously had been picked to do the job because of his lack of seniority. As she came around to the other side of the Fire Truck, she got a glimpse of the source of the watery spray.
For a brief moment, she forgot everything, even the fact she was driving. He couldn't have been more the 25, but carried himself with a confidence that made him seem somehow older. His chest was exposed to the sun, damp with sweat and water, a few fleck of foam clinging to his smooth, hard muscled skin. He had removed his shirt for the job, but not his pants and boots, which Andrea found oddly erotic...it was if he had just returned from a fire, tired but still capable of accomplishing much more. Not so muscular as to be comical (or to indicate a man more absorbed in his body than anything more practical), he had just enough definition to make her knees feel suddenly very rubbery.
He was dark haired with a kind, yet strong featured face. She briefly imagined what it would be like to be swept up into those powerful arms, kissed by those full lips, and just as quickly shoved the fantasy away as she became all too aware of every one of her 390 pounds. Men like that, she thought, could have any woman they wanted. Not a fat broad like myself...
It was at that point she realized that she hadn't been paying any attention to the road, as the passenger side tire suddenly struck the curb, blowing out in the process. Even at the relatively slow speed she was driving, the combination of the impact and her reflexive twist of the steering wheel produced a truly awe inspiring squeal from the remaining three wheels as the car began to fishtail sideways.
She didn't think it would have been possible to sweat more than she had been already in the near 100 degree heat, but she suddenly found herself almost soaked as she tried to get the car under control. So terrified that she didn't even think to scream, she realized that she was about to hit a dumpster and there wasn't much she could do about it. Sure enough, there was a loud bang, and she felt herself enveloped as the air bag deployed.
For a few moments she sat, feeling incredibly stupid, her head smarting from the impact of the bag -- It felt like the entire front of her body had been bitch slapped by god.
Her first outward reaction was anger. "Of all the stupid ass things to do!" she railed to herself. "I can't believe I just drove off the road while looking at a cute piece of meat."
"Well, that answers my first question..."
Andrea suddenly had the odd sensation of feeling her blood run cold during one of the hottest days of the year. Slowly turning to her left, she first saw the hand resting on the edge of her car door. It was obviously a hand used to work, strong, long fingered, and slightly scarred.
She already knew what she would see as she looked up, because if there was one thing that would make this moment any worse than it was, it would be to come face to face with the object of her desire. Sure enough, she looked past the sparsely haired chest, still wet from the house, and into the face of the fireman she had been watching.
Even through her mortification she couldn't help but notice his eyes, a deep blue in color. They were twinkling at her now. "...Though I should still ask it," he continued, "just to be sure. Are you alright?"
The sound of his voice seemed to rumble into her chest, setting her heart fluttering...or was that the aftermath of the airbag? In either case, she struggled to find her voice, hoping to salvage some shred of pride. "I'm fine...", she answered first, but then did a quick mental inventory. She was going to have some pretty hellacious bruises, she was sure, but nothing seemed to be broken. "Really, fine. Except for feeling like an idiot and needing a tow truck, I think I'll live." She was impressed she managed to get it out without stuttering.
He leaned in closer, looking into the car. She suddenly felt incredibly exposed, even though the tee-shirt and shorts she was wearing were more than sizable enough even for her excessively curvaceous frame. She was also acutely aware of the fact that she hadn't bothered tormenting herself with wearing a bra, her modest breast endowment not requiring it and the added clothing being another unwanted layer of insulation. Now, however, the sweat from her combined fear and the heat seemed to soak her completely, rendering the cotton cloth almost translucent.
She dropped her eyes, trying not to notice his scent, an obvious after effect of his effort to clean the truck in the mid-afternoon sun. It was just strong enough to send a thrill down her spine, and to forcibly remind herself that if he smelt like that even as he hosed himself down, she didn't even want to think of how badly she smelt, shower or no shower. Fear had a way of making one smell bad, she knew, and she had been terrified.
"Can you move? If you're in any pain, I should call back the paramedics after their run."
Something in the sound of his voice made her glance up. "No...no, I'm really fine. Just a little shook up..." He obviously had gotten a good look at her, but was still being friendly. She could only imagine what he would tell the rest of the station house...then it struck her.
It was only a matter of moments before the rest of the station emptied out to see what the noise was, and they would find her here...
All of the old crap from her experiences in elementary school came back to haunt her, being surrounded by the school bullies who saw an easy target in the young fat girl. Worse, there was no easy way she could escape -- The car wasn't drivable with an expended airbag, and while she prided herself on exercising regularly enough that she was sure she could walk home, she had no illusions of how fast she could move. They were sure to make comments no matter how fast she waddled off, their jeers only getting worse if she sped up, causing her rolls of fat and ass to wobble in time to her movements.
The prospect of that emotional gauntlet was so overwhelming on top of the relatively minor accident that she burst into tears.
She had no clear recollection of what happened next. Only that the door opened, and she was being helped up, still crying, out of the car. That, and the sensation of strong arms supporting her weight (as impossible as that seemed) as she walked.
The combination of being out of the driving sun and the unmistakable sensation of air conditioning was enough to snap her out of her fugue.
She was sitting in what looked like a dining room, with a long table surrounded with about a dozen chairs. The blinds had been drawn, giving the room a slightly gloomy feel, which suited her mood fine.
"Here," came a now familiar voice, "You should dry off a little, before you get a chill." Her fireman was holding out a fluffy white towel. She was suddenly aware of the bite of the cool air on her wet skin. "It won't help the clothing much though...I can see if we can find something else for you to wear, and I can toss them into the dryer...I mean, if you'd like."
If she didn't know any better, she would have sworn he was blushing, looking away as she took the towel.
Drying off did make her feel better. In fact, she was certain this was the first time in nearly a week her skin didn't feel sticky. That is, her exposed skin...her shorts and shirt seemed to be weighed down with as much water as they could absorb short of dripping.
"Um...where is everyone?" She asked.
He had walked across the room to the water cooler in the far corner, and was filling an old plastic bottle. Without turning around, he answered "Well, some are on a possible gas leak call...unless it's major, they don't need the whole department. The rest are at a charity even on the other side of town, and won't be back for a few hours. I was picked to stand house watch while they were gone." He turned, walked back to her and offered her the water. He seemed nervous about something. Probably was afraid of being caught alone with a fat girl, she fretted.
She took a long draw of the water, which was so cold it was almost painful. Bringing her head forward, she caught him looking at her with an expression she couldn't quite place. It wasn't disgust or revulsion, it was...something else.
Just as quickly as she saw it, he suddenly looked away. Shivering from her damp clothes, she decided that things couldn't be any worse than they were. "You know, if you could find something I could wrap up in, I wouldn't mind taking you up on your offer of getting these cloths dried."
There was a brief flash of something -- excitement? -- but he seemed to pull his face together quickly, and smiled. "I think I can work something out. By the way, I'm Mark." He held out his hand.
She reached out to take it, replying "Hi Mark, I'm Andrea..." she had to repress a gasp has his hand took hers. She always thought her hands were large, but his was larger...and decidedly stronger. It wasn't a tentative handshake, but a full fledged clasp that seemed to send waves of heat up her arm. If she hadn't already been sitting, she would have had to take a seat.
The clasp seemed to go on forever, and she forgot some of her insecurity being in front of this magnificent male specimen. "Hello, Andrea, a pleasure to meet you." he seemed to increase the pressure on her hand slightly before releasing her hand in a way that made her melt. "Let me see what I can find for you. I think I know what we can use..."
"What" turned out to be a sheet from one of the night shift beds. Feeling exposed in the common room, she followed him and watched as he pulled the sheet from a linen closet.
He showed her where she could change in relative privacy (a small locker room, as it turned out) and left her there to pull off the dap clothes. As she pealed them wetly from her skin, she had a chance to see what damage she had managed to do to herself.
Her chest seemed red, but she wasn't sure if that was from the airbag or from the wet shirt. Her left shoulder seemed stiff, and a glance in the mirror revealed a bruise where the seatbelt had kept her from pitching forward. It would probably look worse later, but at least for the time being it wasn't too bad. Without the belt, she probably would have wound up with a lot nastier injuries from the bag.
The sheet was long enough to wrap around her body by a good margin, so she wore it as a simple sarong, just above her breasts. The dry cloth went a long way to making her feel better, and it draped enough that she didn't feel like every detail of her body was a matter of little imagination.
She walked to the door, cracking it so she could call to Mark without yelling. He was sitting next to the door, apparently standing guard. "Yes, the coast is clear...you can come out, or just pass the clothes through the door..."
"Actually," she interrupted, "If you can just point me to the dryer, I would prefer to do it myself. You've been too kind already, and I still have to call a tow truck..."
"Oh, I already called someone. I have contacts with a few of them, and called in a favor to get someone here fairly soon."
She blinked at him. "I...well, thank you, but..."
"Please, it's not a big deal. If you'd like I can give them your insurance information and get it towed so you won't have to deal with them." But you don't seem to mind dealing with me, she thought. She quickly quashed that glimmer of hope. He's just being nice to the freak. Probably thinks he's earning karma points or some such.
She realized she was still holding the wet clothes. "Well, ok...I'll let you take care of that, if you point out that dryer."
He smiled, walked over to a set of folding doors, and opened them to two large washer and dryer units. "I have to go finish rinsing down that rig and wait for the tow. Will you be ok alone for a few minutes?"
"Sure. Thank you."
She waited until he left, and then scurried to the dryer unit and tossed the damp things in. 15 minutes would be plenty, she thought. Not that it mattered...she was sure that they would be soaked within a block of the station house, however she got home. But at least she would be able to put them back on without it making her skin crawl.
She had settled down on a chair to wait for the clothes to dry, when the adrenaline wore off abruptly, and she simply fell asleep. She awoke abruptly to the sound of the engine being pulled into one of the bays. Panicking at the thought of being found there by an entire company of fire fighters, she began to look around for a place she could hide.
Before she could, mark walked through the door to the bays. "Hey, the tow truck got here a few minutes ago...they gave me the address of the shop..." He stopped abruptly, staring.
She had been so relieved that it wasn't one of the crews returning to the station, she didn't stop to realize that he was getting a full view of her sheet wrapped form until that point.
Looking down, she was horrified to discover that, during her sleep or subsequent panic, the sarong had fallen open along one side of her body, exposing everything from her hip to just below one arm. Mark was getting even more of an eyeful then when he had first walked up to the car.
Trying to make it look casual (and failing), she quickly adjusted the make-shift sarong, muttering a forcedly mirthful "Oops!" as she did. He seemed to realize he was staring, and shook his head slightly. "Oh! I'm so sorry...I didn't mean to embarrass you."
She stared back. "You...emabarrass ME?" He was a good 5 feet away, yet seemed too close at the same time. IN spite of herself she found herself responding to the sight of him. "I think I was doing a good job doing that to myself.".
He smiled. "You have nothing to be ashamed of. If anything, I should thank you for..." He stopped suddenly.
Her curiosity was piqued. "Thank me for what? You've been so nice, after I've complicated an already hot and..."
"Boring afternoon." He finished. "Unless some idiot sets fire to their house with illegal fireworks or lights a grill with enough gasoline to take out a city block, I have nothing to do but wait. If I have to be here anyway, I would much prefer there be a...pretty woman to look at."
Suddenly she felt like she was holding her breath. She was afraid that he was just being nice to her, but it seemed like he was looking at her in a way she had only dreamed of before then. She was no virgin, to be sure, but there was always that suspicion that she was being used as an "easy" lay, the fat girl who would put out. That, or they liked her in spite of her size. The sex was ok, but it felt furtive in some ways, as if they were trying to avoid drawing attention to her size.
None of them had ever looked at her like this incredibly sexy fireman was looking at her. She was even daring to think that the look was one of lust. Yet she had been disappointed before, so a small war was starting between her heart, body and mind as to what to do next. She did stutter during her reply this time, as she muttered some thanks.
He seemed emboldened by the fact that he had managed to compliment her without being rejected (her...reject him? She would have herself committed if she was ever so dense! Even as she thought it, she was shocked at the idea that she knew she wouldn't). "I know this is a pretty awkward way to meet, and all, but I would like...I mean, I think it would be great if, if you'd like, you'd have dinner or coffee sometime..."
She blinked at him. He WAS attracted to her. He had just asked to go out on a date. She had never been certain of a think like that before, but she was certain now. That certainty seemed to unlock something within herself, something that felt both liberating...and (for lack of a better word) a bit naughty.
"Mark...are you flirting with me?" She asked it coyly, her hands clutching the cloth to her side dropping unconsciously. She felt herself take a step forward.
He seemed to swallow before he answered. "I know, maybe I shouldn't be so foreward...I just, well, have trouble meeting the kind of women that I find attractive, and I find you extremely...well, attractive, and now I'm just babbling." She noticed he had taken a step forward, and they were only a few feet from each other.
"Well, I would love to get dinner sometime." She took another step forward...what was she doing?!
"That would be great! I would really like to eat y...WITH you." He blushed furiously, and almost took a step back, but seemed to stumble forward instead.
She wasn't sure how, but they were holding hands. Perhaps a mutually subconscious desire to do SOMETHING with them, this being an obvious, safe thing to do. Only once she was holding them, and he was grasping them back, it was if she were falling forward. It seemed to affect him the same way, as suddenly they were pressing together. He was taller then she, so she tilted her head back, and felt his mouth press into hers.
Her first thought was "This is better than I thought it would be". There was no second thought as all thinking left her, and he felt her mouth open against his. His hand slipped easily in between the edges of the parted sheet, running down her side, tracing every contour that made her feel like she was already coming.
She surfaced long enough to note he was running his other hand over her well rounded (humongous, screamed the internal critic) ass, so (damn it) she was going to get some of that as well. Reaching down with both hands she grabbed his firm butt and pulled him in tight. He gasped into her mouth, a very gratifying sign of encouragement if she ever felt one.
She felt swept away by the touch of his hands and body...and was that his erection she felt through the sheet and his pants, pressing into her belly? She took one hand and came around his hip to his crotch, confirming what she already suspected: He was not only hard, he was substantial enough to make HER gasp. Fortunately he moaned at the same time he felt the touch of her fingers, covering her amazement.
Suddenly she felt herself bump into the wall...without realizing it he had backed her up until she was pressed against it. It was like he was trying to burrow into her. She was unused to being desired this much, and it was overwhelming.
Her hand stroking his cock through his clothes was rapidly getting tiresome...she knew what she wanted to do.
Reluctantly parting from him, she sat down on a chair in front of him, unzipping his pants. Before he had a chance to protest, she pulled his cock through an opening that seemed almost too small.
She didn't allow his fairly well endowed attributes time to intimidate her. She leaned forward and began licking the underside of his erection just under the head, where it was the most sensitive, pulling it close enough that she could suckle along it's edge with her full lips. He gripped her shoulders, moaning as she felt along the edge of his member, throbbing and hot against her face.
She tormented him like that...where did she suddenly get the idea she could?...for almost five minutes, before finally opening her mouth as wide as she could, swallowing quickly to keep from gagging on his length. She was so busy bracing for it that she was stunned to feel his pubic hair, curly and stiff, pressing into her nose. She had never managed to deep throat anyone before this!
At least her audience was appreciative. Practically levitating in place, he brought both hands reflexively to her head, clutching at her hair with his fingertips, obviously shaking with his pleasure. Instead of feeling trapped, she suddenly felt...powerful. This big, strong man was completely under the control of a fat chick -- all she had to do was slowly back off, and he was shuddering, trying to restraint himself from thrusting back. She pulled off just long enough to whisper "What a GOOD boy!", and swallowed him again, holding him in her mouth...and at her mercy.
Before long he *was* thrusting, fucking her round face with abandon. The feel of his legs pumping, those hard thighs flexing, his buttocks clenching as he ran in and out of her suckling mouth, was making her clit throb. She was certain that the CHAIR would need the towel more than she did.
Just when she was afraid her jaw would dislocate from the effort it took not to drag her teeth into his tender flesh, he gasped "I...I'm going to come...may I...may I come...now...". She could only "Hmmm-mmm!!" her assent as firmly as she could, nodding gently for good measure.
Even after she had given him "permission" to come, he still kept begging: "Please...oh please, may I...may I...may I...", thrusting his cock into her mouth harder and harder, until the last "may I" turned into an inarticulate howling. She felt his cock swell even further, and a sudden gushing sensation as he unloaded down her throat.
It took some effort, but she managed to pull her head far enough back to catch the last few spurts on her tongue...he tasted sweet and creamy, just as she had hoped he would.
Finally spent, he almost drooped over one shoulder, almost swooning. She allowed his penis, still firm and coated with her saliva and his come, to fall from her mouth. Holding him, she was struck by how silly they must look, the fat girl holding the big burly fireman over one shoulder in a parody of a rescue...it took all she had to keep from giggling.
They must have stayed that way for 10 minutes, snuggling and stroking one another. It struck her that he didn't seem to be getting any softer – instead, his dick seemed to firm up again as it rubbed between her shoulder and her neck.
Suddenly, he pulled back, and she felt a wave of panic -- her comes the brush off, she thought sadly. Instead, he leaned over and began kissing her, his tongue suddenly feeling like it was penetrating as much as his cock just had.
He pulled her up out of the chair...he was incredibly strong, as she felt as if he had lifted her using nothing but his own effort. She had barely enough presence of mind to get her feet under her as he spun her around.
She couldn't remember being so turned on, so unabashedly horny that her usual reluctance to be seen or touched was completely gone...but it was. Her body knew what it wanted, and even if her mind was incapable of forming the words to ask, it knew how to get it.
Kneeling on the chair she felt herself shift so that she bent forward. His hands seems to tear the sheet, still half wrapped about her waist, from her body, revealing her completely in the well lit room. "My god...you're so beautiful..." The words almost made her cry. She never let herself want to hear someone say that to her, and now someone was practically worshipping her fully exposed flesh like it was an altar.
Grasping her hips, she felt him rub his erection against her, slow and lovingly, between her massive cheeks. One hand moved away for a bit, and she felt a brush of leather as he unbuckled his belt and dropped his pants. Her only regret was that she couldn't see him, his pants dropped to mid thigh...he wouldn't be able to get them off over the boots, she realized.
Feeling him slowly rub against her, muscles rippling as he stroked her body, the constant murmur of his voice as he marveled at the rolls and folds that made her uncomfortable to look at herself...she felt as though she could orgasm with nothing else. When he pulled away, she almost felt like screaming, until she heard the thud of his body leaning against the wall.
"What are you doing?!" she was so aroused she almost felt like she was rutting with the very air.
"I...I just wanted to get these boots off..."
"NO!" She was startled by her own voice crying out. She straightened up, still kneeling into he chair, and turned to look at him.
He had frozen in mid-motion, hands at one boot, his pants comically hanging above them. "I'm sorry," she lowered her voice, "I...uh...sorta want you to keep them on..."
His shocked expression softened as he began to understand. Realization made him chuckle. "Sure...I think we can accommodate that...but we should move so I don't fall over and break something important...such as yourself,"
She deliberately overlooked the implied compliment. "Well...they're a bit small...but you DO have beds here, don't you?"
Rhonda was one pissed-off fire fighting person...and perhaps the stickiest one in the entire city, at the moment.
She was all for charity events, but being "volunteered" annoyed her whatever the reason. Worse, when it turned out to be for a pie eating contest, she almost walked out on the spot. If it weren't for a soft spot (in her head, she mused) for children a mile wide, she would have walked out on the spot, even if it meant quitting a job she loved.
Even with all she had accomplished she was still sensitive about her size. She wasn't so much fat as...bulky. If she weren't a woman many would call her husky. Many did anyway...though never to her face.
In a way she should be flattered that she was the only woman matching mouths...and stomachs...with some of the departments biggest guys. She probably would have won, too...except a shred of pride kept her from going all out, and she came in close second. There were some contests men SHOULD win, in her opinion.
No amount of wiping off at the scene of the crime could make her feel even remotely clean, so she used the excuse of rinsing clumps of blue-berry from her short cropped red hair as an excuse to bail. Besides, she wanted to check up on the rookie to make sure he hadn't passed out from the heat while cleaning the trucks.
The first thing she noticed as she parked were the closed doors of the station -- she felt a little excitement at the thought of a few failed inspection points. She had no idea why she liked to torment the boy so much more than any of the ones she had under her command over the past few years. Maybe he was just TOO perfect, too attentive. It made him an attractive target, all the more for lack of opportunity.
She walked in the side door, and gave the engines a glance as she walked by, the small lift gotten from the potential prospect of punishment evaporating at their pristine condition. Damn it, there had to be something wrong with them somewhere...if she had to MAKE it wrong, she would.
She almost stomped to the showers, noting that Mark was no where to be seen. Her spirits soared: As the man on house watch he should have been by the radio, ready to respond. It was true that, set correctly, that radio would wake the dead, but rules were rules.
A quick rinse removed the layer of sweat and piecrust crumbs, she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror across from the shower. Broad shoulders and a wide body gave her the look of a linebacker. In fact, she was often co-opted into football games right up to high school, and was good at it too: If she had been born a man, she might have gone on to college, maybe even gone pro. As it was she had to settle for her second life’s goal, being a firefighter. In the long run, she pondered as she toweled the last drops of water from her back and hips, I suppose saving lives is more satisfying.
She got dressed, making sure everything was crisp and perfect. If she was going to bawl someone out for some transgression, she had to be completely above reproach. If he was (as she suspected) catching a nap, he would HAVE to be a bit rumpled.
As she walked across the kitchen toward the sleeping quarters, something made her stop. There was something about the room...she couldn't put her finger on it, but there was something...not wrong, just different. Shaking her head, she was about to continue on, when she heard it.
Andrea was shocked at herself. She supposed she had suppressed a lot of things in her life, but something like this was enough to make her wonder what OTHER twisted little fantasies lurked in her head.
Her head was in the pillow, barely...she kept twisting about, her blonde hair tossing until she was sure it would require scissors to get the knots out. Not that she cared: Her big, strong fireman (at some point she had gotten comfortable thinking of him as HER fireman) had her legs in the air higher than she thought possible, and he was plowing into her with a strong, full rythem.
He had found some rubbers somewhere ("Probably a safe sex lecture supply for the paramedics") that weren't out of date. He did have to take off the boots long enough to pull off the pants (he didn't want to take the chance he would have to run to the radio suddenly), giving her a little bit of a show of his wonderful bod, before donning what he was wearing now...his boots, gloves...and that traditional fireman's hat, complete with the engine number. And nothing else.
It was almost too hot...this time, for a different reason.
Her legs were so far back he was able to straddle her thighs and ass, while still remaining inside of her. The sensation of being surrounded AND penetrated, swept up in those big strong arms in ways she hadn't dared dream of, was enough to start her coming almost immediately. At least, she had THOUGHT she was coming...as it turned out, there were levels of orgasmic ecstasy she had been previously unaware of, as she felt waves of warmth start in her belly, then explode outward, making her lose control like she never had before.
There was nothing else in the world, nothing else mattered, but his hands holding her, his rock hard dick inside her, his cries as he thrust harder and faster, until she felt that brief swelling (almost as an afterthought) the meant he was about to come...and everything exploded.
Neither of them were in any condition to hear her, obviously, banging away at each other as they were. The blonde was thrusting up as hard as mark was giving, both of them forming a mindless mass on a bed that would have broken beneath of them, if it hadn't been made of steel.
Part of her wanted to laugh at the ridiculous getup Mark was wearing. Part of her wanted to burst in, a perfect opportunity to nail him once and for all. Part of her...
Part of her was jealous.
That more than anything kept her silent, watching the two lovers writhing away. It was incredibly disturbing to her. She had been certain of her orientation for a very long time...even playing "Doctor" as a child she had only played with other girls. Boys weren't "icky" or repellant to her...they were just...boys. Someone to play football with. Friends, at best.
Of course, being a fire fighter made having ANY relationship a tricky proposition. Most of her trysts were short-term meetings, ones that defied the old joke of lesbian third dates involving renting a u-haul.
Mark was a boy. And she was jealous.
Then she paid attention to the reason for her jealously...a massive woman who was, in no uncertain terms, fat. Smooth, white skin...her pretty face contorting as she came, over and over...
Now she wasn't certain who she was jealous of more. To make matters worse, there was a new part of her clamoring for attention: The part that wanted to join in. She was startled to discover that, as they came together loudly, she had begun to finger that part through her uniform, unconsciously.
What could she do?! He was a subordinate, blatantly violating policy. It would be within her rights to suspend him on the spot, which would result in his losing a job, possibly ruin his career. It was one thing to bait someone -- the idea of completely destroying the man was not what she wanted.
Coming to a decision, she waited just long enough for their breathing to slow.
Andrea felt Mark stiffen (this time in a not so good fashion). She started as well, a result being that he popped wetly from her vagina, the rubber pulling off just as it cleared, spilling all over her thighs.
Looking up she saw one of the burliest women she had ever seen standing in the doorway she had just burst through, dressed in a uniform. Vainly, she tried to cover up her large body with her arms, clutching at the sheets trapped beneath her, as mark grabbed a pillow from another bed to cover his crotch (he had apparently forgotten he was wearing the hat). "Ma'am! I...I..." He stuttered to a stop, realizing that there was literally no valid explanation for the situation. To his credit, he straightened up, looked Rhonda right in the eyes, and said "If you'll give me a moment to get dressed, I'll go get my things."
Andrea was mortified. She had gotten him in trouble, it seemed. Suddenly, as wonderful as the afternoon had been, she felt horrible.
Instead of leaving, the large redhead turned and closed the door. "Stay right where you are!" she barked. Walking up until she was only about a foot from Mark, Andrea was struck by her sheer bulk -- she almost made mark seem small. "What if there had been an emergency call? You think you could have managed to tear your mind off of your penis long enough to actually answer it?!"
Mark dropped his eyes and began to speak. Reaching out as quickly as a striking snake, Rhonda grabbed his chin and wrenched his head back up. "Look at me, goddamn it!" Mark was so startled, he dropped the pillow. Reflexively, he began to reach for it...only to be pulled back up by Rhonda's vice like grip.
"Sir...I mean, Ma'am!" Mark was obviously terrified. Andrea was starting to wonder if the sight of them had driven this woman over the edge to a very dangerous place. She began to sidle from the bed, hoping to get out of the room, perhaps to her clothes...though then prospect of running naked and screaming down the street across the burning hot asphalt was actually beginning to look like the more attractive prospect.
Rhonda was having none of it. She snapped her head in Andrea's direction, fixing her with a glare...and something else. Unless she had completely lost it, it almost looked like her eyes were...twinkling?! "Stay right there, young lady...I'll deal with you in a moment."
Turning back to mark, she shoved against the wall with both hands and held him there. "Here's exactly how this is going to work," she began.
(end part one...and no, part 2 isn't written yet. Be patient.)
Last Modified: 9-Jan-03