Today's guest is Malin James, who has out a new collection of erotic short stories: Roadhouse Blues. This excerpt is from Krystal's Revenge Fuck.
Welcome to Styx—a blue-collar, American town where people can do whatever they like, so long as they don’t advertise. From a 1950s diner to the back of a rocking Camaro, the stories in Roadhouse Blues reveal sex that is by turns romantic, raw, triumphant, and desperate. Meet two women grieving the same man, a bartender looking for anything but love, and a hot, brash newlywed who knows she married a cheat. The local garage is run by a kick-ass woman who gives as fierce as she gets, and the strip club is a place full of whiskey and smoke, where memories are exposed as easily as skin.
“In the end,” writes author Malin James, “sex is about people, and people have motivations, and sometimes those motivations surprise them.”
This is Roadhouse Blues. Surprise is just the beginning.
Barefoot, Krystal stood a couple inches taller than Jack, which meant that his mouth was conveniently close to her tits. Jack pulled her close and fondled them through her robe. She tried not to melt. She loved the way he touched her tits. Thank God, she hadn’t gotten that reduction.
“Man,” he said, kissing her neck. “I missed you.”
“I missed you, too, baby.”
The robe fell to the ground, revealing her Deluxe Pro tan and a pair of sheer, lace panties that showed off her Brazilian. She wiggled and bounced her tits. Jack caught one in his mouth.
“Fuck, you’re already wet,” he mumbled, rubbing her through the lace.
She was always wet for Jack. That fucker…. Her hips forgot the plan and shoved her cunt against his hand.
“Fucking day,” he murmured, kissing her neck. “Greyhound full of assholes sending food back. You’re the best thing a man could come home to.”
“Aw, baby…,” she purred. Goddamn, she had to focus. Once a cheater, always a cheater. Fuck him. FUCK HIM. But all she wanted to do was fuck him. She gave in and kissed him back, inhaling his scent—sweat, food, and sex…. Krystal frowned and inhaled again. Why would he smell like sex? They hadn’t fucked since that morning.
Jack pulled back. “Sorry, babe. I’m rank. Let me grab a shower.”
He wanted to wash the waitress off. No way was she gonna let him destroy the evidence. Krystal forced a smile. “It’s okay, baby. You know I love it when you smell all manly. Come on into the bedroom. I’ve got a surprise for you.”
Jack yawned. “A surprise? Really? What for?”
Krystal ruffled his sandy hair. “Just for being you.”
“Aw, baby. You’re the sweetest. You’re the best. Just let me grab a shower—”
“NO.”
When they got to the bedroom, Krystal flicked on a light. Jack looked at the rope, suddenly interested. He grinned. “You gonna get all Fifty Shades for me?”
“No, baby. You’re gonna get all Fifty Shades for me. Strip and lie down.”
Jack’s eyes widened. Krystal grinned. He looked like Bambi’s mama right before she gets shot.
“Don’t worry, honey,” she said, letting her hand drift down to the bulge in his pants. “It’s gonna feel real good. I promise. But you have to trust me. You trust me, right?”
“Yeah,” he said. “I trust you.”
“Good. Then trust me and strip.”
Slowly, Jack worked his way out of his sweat-stained T-shirt. Krystal’s mouth watered. He was still sexy as hell, even after three months of marriage. He looked just like the guy in that movie—the one where shit blew up. She loved it when shit blew up…. Jack paused at his belt.
“C’mon, cowboy,” she said. “Or you won’t get your surprise….” She gave him a fuzzy-kitten smile. Jack relaxed. He even did a little booty dance before taking off his pants.
“Good,” she said, sweet with a cherry on top. “Now, lie down.”
Jack laid down in the middle of the bed. He’d lost his hard-on somewhere between groping her and lying down, but Krystal wasn’t worried. She’d get it back.
“Arms up,” she crooned.
Jack stretched up his arms, fidgeting while Krystal worked through Sissy’s knot. It was trickier than she’d thought. “There,” she said, looping the rope over the headboard. “Almost done.” She yanked.
“Ow!”
“Sorry,” she said, not sounding sorry at all. “You’re making me kind of nervous, looking at me like that. How ‘bout we put the blindfold on?”
Jack gulped. His Adam’s apple bobbed like a cartoon’s. “Wait….”
“What?”
“It’s just…are you sure you know what you’re doing?”
Krystal breathed in, looking for her Zen, but the scent of sex came off him, strong as a slap.
“Yeah,” she said. “I know exactly what I’m doing.”
Krystal slipped the mask over his head. Once he couldn’t watch her, she did the other wrist twice as fast as the first. Then she rummaged in a drawer.
“Hey, sexy man,” she called out. “How you doing over there?”
“Okay. I guess.”
“Good,” she sang. “Don’t move!”
“Didn’t give me much choice,” he said, sorta laughing, sorta not.
Krystal smirked. Then she knelt between his legs and did what she did best. He was soft when she took his dick in her mouth, but he was hard in seconds once she got going. “Oh fuck, babe….”
Krystal smiled around his cock. “Told you to trust me,” she said, tonguing his balls. His balls definitely smelled like sex. Krystal’s stomach turned. She’s always loved that smell, but she fucking hated it now. She gave his cock a last, brutal suck before letting it pop out of her mouth. Then she buckled up the strap-on.
Having a cock felt weird…and hot. Really fucking hot, she thought, as she looked past her massive tits, down the tight, little slope of her belly, to the hot pink dildo she’d fit into the harness. She took the dildo in her hand and thrust her hips, turned on in a way that surprised her. It was different than anything she’d ever felt. It felt…naughty. Goddamn. Now, that was a fucking novelty.
They’d never tried pegging, but they’d talked about it, so she figured it wouldn’t come totally out of the blue. Krystal coated the dildo with more lube that he deserved, and slipped the tip into his ass.
“Babe, what are you—ungh.”
“What, baby?” she asked, like he’d asked her to pass another Eggo.
“Never mind,” he murmured, holding very still.
“Just say stop if you want me to stop…blah, blah, blah,” she said, under her breath.
Jack bore down on the silicon cock. “Jesus Christ, don’t stop.”
She thrust a little more. That got a nice, whiny whimper out of him. Then she really started to work him.
Buy Roadhouse Blues at:
Go Deeper Press
Amazon US :: Amazon UK
Malin James is an essayist, blogger, and short story writer. Her work has appeared in Electric Literature, Bust, MUTHA, Queen Mob’s Tea House and Medium, as well as in podcasts and anthologies for Cleis Press, Sweetmeats Press and Stupid Fish Productions. Her first collection, Roadhouse Blues, is now available from Go Deeper Press.
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Thank you for hosting Roadhouse for Blue Monday!
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