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Blind Item(23)

By:Kevin Dickson


“You know what would feel great?” he said huskily. “Your lips, on this, right now … please…”

Nicola knelt down, her knees jarring on the hardwood floor, and playfully flicked the end of it with her tongue. She started playing around, teasing him.

“No, all of it,” he said coldly. “All of it.”

Nicola pulled her head back to consider it, and thought, Well, there’s not too much of it. She parted her lips and went down until she felt Paul’s manicured pubes hit her nose. She pulled back a little and waited for him to move with her. Several seconds passed and Paul did not move, so she began to move her head up and down. Paul stayed completely motionless.

Nicola prided herself on her blow-job skills. Back home, she’d been able to get most of her boyfriends and one-night stands off within five minutes, and her last boyfriend, Tony, had called her La Reina de la Chupa before things went so horribly wrong. So when Paul still didn’t move, she busted out all of her tricks. Nothing. After a while she wondered if he’d fallen asleep.

She paused, sliding her hand up his stomach. “What’s wrong?” he asked dreamily.

“Nothing,” she lied. “Do you like it like this?”

“Yes,” he said curtly. “Don’t stop.”

Nicola began moving her whole head back and forth. She worked away for ten minutes, her knees starting to scream in pain from the cold floor. Muscles in her neck started to spasm as she determinedly soldiered on. Her eyes started watering. Great, there goes my mascara, she thought.

Out of nowhere, Paul’s leg started to shudder. She doubled her efforts, and soon, she knew enough to get out of the way. She switched quickly to hand only, pointing him away from her. He thrashed around as his orgasm shook through him and he gave a series of short grunts.

“Stop, stop, I can’t take anymore.” He gently brushed her away and pulled up his legs.

Nicola relaxed back onto her haunches, the hard floor hurting her ankles. She put a hand on the floor to steady herself, and was horrified as a long, loud fart escaped from Paul’s ass, a foot from her face. “Oh God,” she exclaimed, springing to her feet, away from Paul and his ass.

“Oh, don’t worry,” he said, absently mopping at himself with his T-shirt. “It happens every time I come. But it never smells. It’s just a thing,” he said, avoiding eye contact.

“Yeah, yeah,” mumbled Nicola, still horrified. “I … um … So, uh, every time, huh?”

“What?” Paul looked at her like he’d forgotten she was there. He rose to his feet and walked into his bathroom. He clicked on the light and looked at himself in the mirror. Nicola stood there, uncertain of whether she could handle flatulent fucking. Her teenage idol was gently lifting his genitals and making sure he’d wiped up all of his mess.

“That was great, thanks,” he said without looking up. She was being dismissed. She was okay with that.

“Sure,” Nicola said. “Hey, listen, I have an early start tomorrow, so I’m just gonna head out.”

“Oh, okay,” Paul said without missing a beat. Nicola dragged on her panties and bra. She shook out her dress and stepped into it, and failed twice to get it zipped up. She briefly considered asking Paul to help her, but decided she could make it home without sacrificing her dignity any further.

In the bathroom, Paul began peeing into the toilet, door still ajar.

“Thanks for a fun night,” she said as emotionlessly as she could, turning and walking out.

“I’ll call you,” he yelled when she was halfway down the hallway.

She slid her feet into her shoes and stepped out into the chilly summer night. She normally loved the cooldown of an LA evening, but tonight the cold went right to her heart. The SUV was still parked out front, and a wave of shame swept over her as she walked toward it. Darell would know what she’d done. Grow up, she snapped at herself.

Darell got out and walked around to open her door.

“Good evening, Miss Wallace,” he said with a smile and an understanding tilt of the head. “Time to go home at last?” They both knew that it had been nothing more than a long workday, for both of them.

“Yes, thank you, Darell. Home at last.”

As the car began its steady descent through the precipitous streets, she texted Gaynor.

Heading home. All went well. See you tomorrow.

Gaynor texted back instantly.

Nico! Happy for you. Was Paul happy too?

Y she sent back.

Gaynor’s next text startled Nicola: So he farted then?

Nicola burst out laughing. She sent Gaynor YYY

Within seconds she had a response.

Sleep in. I’ll see you at noon. Also, mi amor, keep the shoes. Both pairs.