Humpday Story: Would You Like Cherry Pie With That?

WouldYouLikeCherryPieWithThat_Coverv1Going to the same diner after work every night has its perks, and Betty’s Stack House has plenty of perks to offer. Including one perky waitress.

Jeff is about to discover he can have his pie and take it home with him, if he only asks for it. But Betty, the waitress, likes a man who is submissive. Once Jeff tells her yes, there’s no going back.

***

WOULD YOU LIKE CHERRY PIE WITH THAT?

1

One of the perks of working third shift is going to the all-night diner after work and having breakfast before the sun comes up. I’ve done this every Thursday morning for as long as I’ve worked my graveyard job. Same diner, Betty’s Stack House, and the same waitress, whose name also happens to be Betty. She’s well stacked, with perky breasts big enough to cup my hands around.

The nice backside helps too. She’s a runner, does the yearly marathons, and has the ass to prove it.

“Ready for pie, Jeff?” Betty said, holding a tray against her hip and snatching up half-filled water glasses with one hand. She wore a green button shirt with the top buttons open, revealing a hint of pushed up cleavage.

“I’d been thinking of cherry pie all night,” I pushed away my clean plate. Truth was, I was already stuffed. A short-stack of pancakes, two slices of greasy bacon, and two over-easy eggs, along with hot tea to wash it all down. I smacked my belly with one hand. “On second thought, naw.”

“You sure? What would a slice of moist cherry pie hurt?”

“Can I have it to go?”

“I’ll wrap it up for you.” Betty’s voice took on a higher pitch, and she blushed. She did that a lot around me, must be a ginger thing. I thought it was cute as hell.

I watched her walk away, a sight I’ve enjoyed many, many times. Betty came back five minutes later with my bill and a styrofoam box with the cherry pie. She laughed and stuttered something cute but indecipherable, and zoomed away again. Always on the go.

The top of the bill had her customary “thank you” scribbled in her messy cursive, followed by three hearts. The box had something written on it as well. I turned it around and around, trying to make sense of the chicken scratch.

I’m off work in 10!!!

Hmm.

I’d daydreamed and fantasized about taking Betty home with me. What I’d do with her, to her, before falling asleep. How much longer she’d keep me awake. She’d been ogling me for long enough, and I had an idea she was single.

Now was my chance.

I had no idea what to expect. But I knew what to do.

I paid my bill, and waited in the parking lot. Feeling like an animal hunting prey at night didn’t help with the anticipation. My heart pounded against my ribs like an beast clawing at a cage, trying to get out. I half hoped she’d come out with a co-worker, and I could just wave at her and pretend I was listening to music. I’d feel creepy, but my gut was telling me something.

The cute and innocent ones never were what they seemed.

Betty came out the front doors, not a moment too late, face aglow and smiling in the harsh yellow lamplight. The button down shirt had been taken off and tied around her waist, now she wore a black low-cut spaghetti strap. She spotted me, in my car with the window rolled down, and made a zip-line straight to me.

“Hey sexy,” she leaned in the window, giving me a good view of her cleavage. The shy girl demeanor gone, as if washed away with a splash of cold water. “Give a girl a ride home? Please?”

“You don’t drive?” I asked.

“What for? I run everywhere. I’m fitter for it. And the creeps get a faceful of mace.”

I laughed. “What makes you think I’m not a creep?”

“You’ve got nice eyes.” She leaned in closer, her hot breath smelled like fresh roasted coffee. “Besides, big man, you’d have already made a move if you were a creep.”

“Maybe you’re the creep in this scenario.”

Betty slapped me on the shoulder. “Now, you understand me! Knew you’d come around.”

Again, my gut told me something was not quite right. I was both a little scared and excited for whatever this cute freak had in mind for me. I had to know how freaky Betty was. Like any temptation worth its weight, she didn’t just go away when I shook my head in disbelief.

I shrugged my shoulders, buying myself some time.

Betty leaned in close to my ear. And kissed the lobe.

“I won’t hurt you too much, honey,” she said. “You might like it, too.”

I shuddered, exhaling all my breath. My cock rose to full attention. The way she spoke to me, the bittersweet sultry tone, made every nerve in my body light on fire.

“Where do you live?” I asked.

“Just a few blocks from here.” She pointed west. Her tone changed, back to its normal sound, the flirty edge gone. She still blushed though.

I relaxed back down a little. Only a little, and I was confused what to do. So I told her to get in the car. I expected her to ride in the passenger seat.

Instead, she climbed in the backseat.

“The speed limit is low around here,” she said. “Don’t get pulled over.”

I put the car in gear and followed her instructions on how to get to her house. Meanwhile, I heard rustling of clothes and a zipper in the backseat.

“What…what are you doing?” I asked.

“What does it sound like?” she teased, leaning forward with both hands on my shoulders, hot breath in my ear. “Take a left here.”

I turned left. My groin tingled, eager to know how many clothes she was taking off. To find out what she looked like without clothes on. I couldn’t quite get my tongue to form words, so after a few tries at saying something sexy, I kept silent.

More rustling in the backseat. Sounded like her pants came off. I adjusted the rearview mirror to try to see.

“Hey,” Betty said, voice commanding and strict like a school teacher slapping a ruler in her palm. “Keep your eyes on the road, mister.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

I saw the flash of pearly white teeth in my mirror, a big Cheshire grin. “Better,” she said. “But you can do even better than that.”

“Oh?”

She leaned forward again, wrapping her bare arms around my throat. Betty smelled like a greasy burger and fried eggs, and under the kitchen smells was a musky odor. Kind of a sweet, girly smell mixed with sweat.

“There’s something I want you to call me,” Betty said, lips tickling my earlobe. “But I don’t know if you’re willing. Are you willing?”

“Try me. I’m a big boy.”

“Oh yeah? Maybe you’ll let me find out how big you are?”

“I’d like that. Maybe pull over up here? Just whip it out for you.”

Betty giggled. Not a girlish giggle, but a throaty, raspy sound that started in her belly. She leaned her forehead against the side of my face, blocking out my peripheral vision. I didn’t mind. But I kept both hands on the wheel, at ten and two, because I didn’t trust what I might do with a free hand.

“There will be plenty of whipping later,” Betty said. “But you have to do something for me.”

“Anything.”

“Promise? Cross your heart?”

“Just tell me!” I said that too loudly, maybe a bit too harshly. I cleared my throat and sucked in a breath of fresh air, tinged with Betty’s lovely odor. “You never know what I might be into. I can say no, right?”

She stroked my chin, soft and tender in the motion, the end of her fingertip rough and callused. Guitar player maybe? Truth was, I didn’t know much about Betty except she was prompt and considerate. I always asked to be seated in her section for a reason.

“No is an acceptable answer,” she said at last.

I turned my head just enough to look her in the eye and still keep my own eyes on the road. I smiled. After a long night of work and being around dudes, I was ready for some adventure. Wherever the adventure took me.

“So,” I said, “what is this mysterious request of yours?”

“You have to call me Mistress.”

“Mistress?”

Betty tightened her grip on me, not enough to choke, just enough to feel her warmth. “Yes. Mistress. Do you have a problem with that?”

I opened my mouth, trying to force words out. The way she said it, the sharp tone that tinged the question, got me excited in a way I didn’t think was possible. My whole body reacted to her voice, tensing and feeling on fire, every nerve sensitive. My cock bulged against the seatbelt painfully. I wanted to stick my hand down my pants and adjust myself. I dared not.

I wanted to ask for permission first.

And the discomfort turned me on, so I decided not to ask anyway.

“No, Mistress,” I said, looking at Betty in rearview. “No problem whatsoever.”

Her smiled curled, lips cruel and devious, pale freckled skin blushing. “Good. Turn right. Now!”

I reacted badly, slamming on the brakes. Betty seemed prepared for it, but the expression on her face read don’t do that again. I turned right.

She’d led me on a loopdy-loop around her neighborhood. Just so she could undress in my backseat and wrap her arms around me. I didn’t mind.

But the sun would be up any moment now.

“Betty,” I said. “Mistress. I want to know something.”

“Anything, sweet boy.”

“What are you wearing?”

“Black lacy panties with a bow in back. Black spaghetti strap top. Black lacy bra. Does that satisfy your curiosity?”

“Yes, Mistress. But I want to see.”

“You will, if you’re good. But maybe you want to know why I undressed in your car?”

“Yes, Mistress.”

“Because I could. Because I’m in charge here. Got that?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t think you do. I think you need to prove you understand.”

“How?”

“Take off your seat belt. And whip it out for me. Now.”

I hesitated for a moment. Her arms were still wrapped around my neck, face dangerously close to mine. And driving didn’t help. What if I crashed? What if…

The idea of taking out my cock for Betty was maddening. And so crazy I couldn’t resist.

I unclicked my seatbelt. I had to adjust my butt to get my pants open, my cock was already engorged. And keeping the car in motion while exposing myself was difficult. I went from a slow 25 miles-per-hour to a crawl of 15.  I didn’t dare tap on the accelerator more than I had to.

The tip was already wet with precum. I hadn’t even realized it. Betty kissed me on the neck when I was fully out.

“Good boy,” she said. “Very, very good. Mistress approves.”

“Thank you.” I wrapped a hand around my girth.

“Nuh uh,” she bit my earlobe. “Allow me.”

Betty reached around and smacked my hand away. She touched my head with thumb and forefinger, gently gliding her fingertips down my shaft.

Then back up. And down again. Slow, deliberate motions. Each stroke tingled, wetting my shaft with my own juices.

“Four-way stop ahead,” Betty said calmly.

I tapped on the brake, gently, and crawled to a stop. I didn’t want to drive any faster. I didn’t even want to keep driving. Maybe just pull over and let Betty finish me off.

“You can go now,” she said. “Nobody’s coming.”

“May I come, Mistress?” I said. Calling her that felt so creepy and dirty. Like I should be locked up, with Betty given the keys.

“I said nobody’s coming. Not even you. At least, until I say you can.”

“Yes, Mistress.” My breathing was shallow. I slipped my foot off the brake, and got the car in motion again. “Where do I turn?”

“Where do you turn…” Betty glided a fingernail up my shaft, and pulled off a long string of precum.

Suddenly, her breathing got slow and hot. I heard the rustle of fabric in the backseat, and a sloppy wet stroking noise. While she got me off, she was getting herself off at the same time. Betty pressed her forehead into the crook of my neck, and moaned.

I shuddered. My eyes were half-slitted. All my focus was on the road ten feet in front of me, and on the heavy sensation of my cock throbbing against Betty’s hand. “Where do I turn, Mistress?”

“Left at the next stop sign.”

Betty bit my neck. A small nibble of teeth, not enough to hurt. All the sensation was in my groin anyway. She stroked me with only her fingertips now, just an up motion. Slow, sensual, and prickly hot.

I was on the edge when she stopped.

“See the house with the white picket fence?” she said.

“Yes, Mistress.”

“That’s my place. Park in the driveway.”

I followed her command, and killed the engine. I turned my head to better look at her. Betty leaned back, pulling her hair tight so her eyebrows were raised high. Her panties were pushed to one side, revealing a clean shaved pussy. Some of her juices had gotten on my upholstery.

Truth be told, I wasn’t too upset.

“Stuff that monster back in your pants,” she said. “I’ll let you whip it back out for me in the house.”

I did as told, but it was hard. Literally. And very sensitive. But I managed to zip it back up.

Betty did the same, putting back on her pants and shoes. She got out of the car, and I followed her up to the front door.

“Want to see the sunrise, Jeff?” she said.

2

Betty had a small Cape Cod style house with a detached garage. She led me in the front door. Inside were dark stained hardwood floors with matching wainscoting along every wall. The foyer was big enough for two people to stand comfortably together. An L-shaped staircase went upstairs.

I had second thoughts. Never before had I been this turned on, this worked up. I could barely speak, my mouth was so dry. Every nerve in my body raw. This cute lady I’d been fantasizing about turned out to be nothing like how I’d imagined her.

Betty climbed a few treads on the staircase, turned around, and beckoned me with one curled finger. Could I say no now? Could I turn and just walk out of her house? 

I’d already let her stroke me. I wiped my sweaty palms on my pants, and followed her up.

“Bedroom’s upstairs, I take it?” I said, just to say something.

She grabbed a fistful of my shirt and winked. “Sure is. Come on, I’ve been waiting for this night a long time.”

“Me too,” I said.

At the top, Betty flicked on the lights.

The upstairs was one big room, with thick beige carpet. The ceiling slanted sharply. A king size bed was placed between the two front windows, a large screen TV just opposite. A door was on the far side, with a blue nightlight illuminating the bathroom sink inside. 

Betty pushed me to the bed, kissing me hard, her fingers digging into my sides. I grabbed her elbows and kissed back. She tugged at my shirt, pulling it over my head. I let her, not minding her assertiveness. Normally when I took my shirt off, I felt manly. Stripped to the waist, I felt oddly powerless against Betty.

Everything she did told me who was in charge here. 

The way she scratched me up and down my back. How she pulled my hair, and twisted my head around as she sunk her tongue in my mouth. When I fell on to the bed, Betty pushed her knee between my legs.

Then she straddled me, and took off her shirt. Betty pressed a finger to my lips. “Stay,” she said, and climbed off me.

I rolled on to my side, watching her with curiosity. She stripped off her pants as she walked over to her dresser, which was a large oak monstrosity with a mirror and brass knobs on the drawers.

She opened one of the drawers, and pulled out two lengths of silk rope.

“Betty?” I said. “Who are we tying up?”

She climbed back on to the bed. “You forgot what to call me.”

“Sorry,” I said. “Mistress.”

“Better, bad boy,” said Betty. “Do you want to be tied up?”

“I… I don’t know.”

She smiled, the sweet waitress I knew showing through again. Just an everyday redhead girl, sweet as can be. But that sweet grin seemed wicked now that I was in her bedroom.

“Sweetie,” she said. “I might be in charge here, but there’s one power I can’t take away from you.”

“What’s that?”

Betty cupped my cheek with one hand, and lightly slapped me. “The power to say no.”

“Perhaps…” I said. “Perhaps I should have a safeword?”

“Excellent idea!” Betty leaned down and kissed me gently on the lips. “What do you want your word to be?”

I thought for a long time. Betty laid down on her side, head propped on her fist. She stroked my chest, finger circling each nipple as she waited.

“It can be anything you want,” Betty said.

I thought about everything on my desk at work. The telephone, the computer, a notepad, pens, a filing cabinet to the side.

“Calculator,” I said at last. “Is that okay, Mistress?”

Betty kissed my brow. “Perfect.”

I shrugged, my face blushing. I felt sheepish for choosing such a dorky word. But at least there’d be no mistaking the word “calculator” for sexy talk.

Betty straddled me again, and grabbed my wrist. She tied me to the headboard, tightening the rope just enough to make me feel it. Looking up at her was magnificent. Her tight abs gleamed in the dim bedroom light. She had lovely shaped thighs with strong muscles. Her breasts were so big and lovely, just the right size to cup my hand around. I wished I had done so earlier, before she tied me up.

She took my other wrist.

“Calculator,” I said.

She dropped my hand. “What’s wrong?”

“I just wanted to see how you’d react,” I said. “Thank you. I’d like to be tied up now. Mistress.”

“Good boy,” Betty said. She quickly and efficiently tied my other wrist to the headboard. “And now, we need to get you completely naked.”

“Please no, Mistress,” I said. “You’ll embarrass me.”

“Hmm, silly boy. That’s the point.” Betty kissed my throat, working her way down my collarbone, my chest, completely ignoring my nipples. She slid her tongue down my stomach, tickling me.

I pulled at my restraints, laughing. Betty chuckled, face red, but she didn’t stop.

She kissed me at my beltline. And then unbuckled me. She tore open my zipper, and ripped my pants down to my ankles along with my boxers. I was already hard, and still wet from when she stroked me earlier. My cock flopped out and smacked against my skin.

Then she took my pants off completely, and tossed them to the floor. She did the same with my socks.

Betty kissed my ankles, and went up to my calves. My thighs. Closer to my twitching cock.

And ignored it completely.

She massaged my thighs, and licked and kissed my hips. I bucked against her, trying to whip my cock at her face. But Betty pressed my hips down to the mattress. A silly, half maniacal grin spread across her face from ear to ear.

Betty slid her fingers around my girth, stroking me with feather light touches. She brought her mouth to my scrotum, and licked me.

“Do you want to come?” she said.

“Yes. Very much.”

“Then you’ll have to beg me for it.”

“Oh, please. Mistress. Make me come.”

Betty chuckled. “Very good. But I’m not convinced you want it bad enough yet.”

“I do! Please, Mistress. I do!”

She let my cock flop back down on my stomach, and kissed her way around around it. Back up my stomach. To my nipples, which she twisted. First one, then the other.

Hard.

I squirmed against the twisting.

“Do you remember your safeword?” she said.

“Yes, Mistress.”

“Say it for me, just once.”

“Calculator.”

“Good. Because I’m about to do something you may not like.”

Betty straddled across my stomach, her butt just touching the tip of my cock. I twitched against her, skin rubbing on skin, and left a wet streak of precum so very close to her holes. She spread her petals, the Cheshire grin wider as she pulled apart her lady bits for me.

I yanked against my restraints, desperate to touch her. To touch myself. Helpless, I watched her rub her clit. Betty’s eyes slitted, a deep moan escaping her mouth. She squeezed her thighs against my ribs, muscles taut and straining. Her rubbing faster, more intense. Betty bounced on me, a dribble of her warm juices wetting my belly on each downstroke.

Then she dipped a finger inside her twat, a shudder overtaking her body. Betty leaned forward, her sweaty hair touching my forehead, tickling my cheeks. My entire world was her pretty face, and her breasts sagging against my chest. I could hear the wet, squishy sound of Betty getting herself off.

My cock felt heavy, weighed down and engorged with with blood. I lifted it, wanting very badly to touch it. To put it inside Betty.

“Please touch me,” I said. “Please, Mistress.”

“Oh?” Betty said. “Do you mean like this?”

She reached around behind her, and grabbed my shaft. No gentle touch, or soothing massage. She gripped me white-knuckled, squeezing, milking me until I was on the edge.

“Yes,” I said. “Just like that!”

Betty stroked herself as she stroked me. The rhythm of her body bouncing her breasts with each motion. Then suddenly, she slowed down, stopping entirely, and silently stared at me. Mouth in an “o” and skin flushed, Betty tensed.

Warm juice poured down my sides. The flood continued longer than I expected, and ended in tiny spurts. Betty curled her back, shoulders hunched, face entirely hidden by her hair.

The first rays of dawn slipped in through the window shades, streaking across the bed.

“Mistress?” I said. “Are you okay?”

“Wonderful,” said Betty. She straightened her back, rolling her shoulders back, her nipples pointing out and erect.

“Please get me off, too?” I said. “Please, Mistress.”

She smirked, her makeup entirely smeared now. “With pleasure, darling.”

Betty scooted backwards, brushing my cock as she lowered her face to me. She took me into her mouth, balls deep, breathing through her nose. Gagging, throat muscles straining, she sucked me off with her mouth and stroked me with one hand, making wet sloppy noises with each pump.

I squirmed, pulling at the ropes, trying my best to get free. I wanted so badly to help her, to grab her by the hair and force her as deep as possible. Sweat trickled from every one of my pores. 

She responded by going down even harder, faster. Teeth scraped against my shaft. Wet lips on skin. Her moans and muffled screaming became loud, desperate.

And then, I had the most intense orgasm I ever had.

It was as if it came from the bottom of my toes, and spurted up at the speed of a freight train. My load blew all over my stomach, and into Betty’s hair. I even hit my face with a fat drop, the come streaming down my lips and chin.

An extreme laziness took over my body. Betty untied me, and then fell into my arms.

“I had a wonderful time,” she said.

I kissed her forehead, and embraced her in a tight hug. “Me too,” I said.

She laid her head on my shoulder, her body draped against mine. Our fluids mingled on our bodies.

Right as the sun came up, Betty started to snore. I massaged her back, and fell asleep with her.

The perfect end to a fantastic night.

***

Copyright © 2016 Hermit Muse Publishing

Cover image © stefanolunardi/BigStockPhoto

 

Thank you for reading! If you would like to purchase this story, you can find it at your favorite retailer. Or feel free to leave a tip with the PayPal button below.



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Author: D. Anthony Brown

Indie writer and publisher. Among other jack-of-all-trade skills...

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