Hot Down Under in The Firefighter

[Tash and Mick are shopping, the morning after a fire destroyed her clothes.]

Next on the list is a drugstore, which he calls a chemist’s. He waits outside for that one, but when I stop at a lingerie store he’s through the door ahead of me.

“Here, this’ll suit you.” He holds out a black silk and lace camisole with matching tap pants.

They’re the kind of thing I’d have picked for myself. My taste in undies has always bordered on risqué. Have to do something to balance that sedate lawyer exterior.

Mick’s hand brushes the side of my breast. “Try them on. I’ll find you some other stuff.”

The salesclerk, an older woman, is occupied with two giggling girls who are picking out items for one’s honeymoon. She waves me toward the back of the store.

There, I find a decent-sized fitting room. When I change into the black lingerie, the mirror gives me back a reflection that makes me grin. Just wait until Mick sees me like this. If he liked me in baggy PJs, he’ll love me in black lace.

The fitting room door begins to open and I let out a squeak, then see it’s Mick, carrying slinky and lacy clothes in all shades. His eyes widen. “Knew you’d look good in that.” He drops the other clothes on the chair. “Gives a bloke ideas.”

Then he locks the door and pulls me into his arms, leaning down, slanting his mouth across mine, beginning a kiss that’s soft and seductive. He doesn’t give me a chance to respond; his lips are on the prowl—across my cheek, over to my ear. He sucks the lobe, darts his tongue inside. I imagine that sexy mouth on my pussy and feel my tap pants growing damp.

“Oh yeah,” he whispers, “lots of ideas.” He pulls me up against him, so I can’t avoid knowing what kind of ideas. His cock’s hard and all my female parts quicken in response.

I groan. “Mick, we can’t.”

“Can too. Just have to be quick. And quiet.”

This is insane. We’ll be caught. Arrested, or at the very least, embarrassed and tossed out on the street.

Me in a cami and tap pants, Mick with his shorts and boxer briefs down around his ankles, which is where he’s shoved them while I’ve been making a list of the “cons” of doing this. There’s one very big “pro” though. His hungry erection, staring up at me.

And another. The hunger in my own body, that’s been building since we woke up.

He brushes the pile of lingerie off the chair, finds a condom in his shorts pocket, sits down. “Come here,” he murmurs, sheathing himself.

continued in right column...