Race You Home
Wanna race home? It’s weird for this challenge to come from Logan, but I can roll with it.
Hell yes I do! Eat my dust.
I can only ever get her to agree to race me home if the weather is perfect and she’s not on the brink of something massive at work. She wears skirts to work most days now and says they blow up in the wind when she has to cross one of the bridges to catch the express bus home. I explain to her that it seriously impacts my productivity to think about her flashing her undies while she hurries home to me.
Today must be that rare combination of beautiful day in Pittsburgh, Logan wearing pants to work, and a quiet day at her company. Fine with me. I’m also wearing pants, as per usual, and Ray says we are in a great stopping place with our drone project. I save all my work, slam my computer shut, and hurry out to fire up Big Red.
I recently used some of our sensors in her engine and it’s really helped with the leak I hadn’t been able to mitigate. My baby practically purrs as I rev her gently, sneaking through the alley behind our building and charging up Forbes toward home.
I get stuck at a red light and start calculating how long I think it took Logan to hustle across the bridge. Once she’s on the bus, it’s like five minutes total on the dedicated busway. I’ll be cutting it close at this rate if I want to beat her. I change lanes a few times, and slam my palm on the roof of the car when that doesn’t get me very far. My standing bet with Logan is that whoever makes it home first gets to decide the loser’s penalty. I won the race last time, and Logan has been threatening revenge after her punishment was me tying up her arms and keeping her at the very edge of orgasm for an hour before I let her come.
The traffic finally opens up when I get past the university and I sail into the parking garage, taking the stairs two at a time while I fumble in my pockets for my keys. I open the door and…hear my girlfriend yelling at me from down the hall.
“Time for your punishment, Callum,” she shouts. “Put on your costume.”
“Costume?”
“Look on the couch,” she says, and I burst out laughing when I see she has a tri-corn hat and colonial soldier outfit laid out.
“Are you gonna come watch me change?” I mutter as I try to put on the breeches and blue wool coat. There’s even one of those ruffly neck things I can’t figure out, so I just tie it loosely and sling the fake musket over my shoulder.
“Hurry up, Callum,” Logan yells. “Don’t keep me waiting!” I decide not to wrestle with the tall black boots since I very much hope I’ll be taking these breeches off in a few minutes. I pad down the hall, hat in hand, and almost pass out when I see my girl spread out on our bed, totally naked.
Logan rubs at her nipples lazily with one hand, her eyes hooded as she takes me in. “Be a good soldier and get over here,” she says.
“Holy shit, this is hot,” I tell her, striding over to the bed and tossing my hat on the pillow next to her head. “You call this revenge?”
She nods, an evil gleam in her eye. “Put the hat on and march for me.”
“March?”
“Mm hm. Like you’re on patrol, guarding me in case anyone discovers me here.”
“Wait, so I’m keeping my clothes on?”
“You can’t guard me without your uniform, Callum. The redcoats might shoot you for a spy.” Logan moves her hand further down and starts spreading herself open. I see her puffy pink skin tempting me and swallow. This is cruel. “March,” she says.
With a sigh, I pick up the hat and squeeze it on my head, walking back and forth at the foot of the bed a few times. But I keep getting distracted whenever Logan moans. Each time I look over, she’s got her fingers buried inside herself, teasing me. “Logan, let me come do that for you,” I plead.
“Aw, you’re so cute when you beg, Cal.”
She tortures me for about seven hours, it feels like, until finally she sighs and flings her arms wide on the bed. “Okay, you’re right. It’s better when you do it.”
“Thank fuck,” I yell, tossing down the props and diving on top of her on the mattress. I replace her hand with my own. “Oh, babe, you are extremely wet right now.” She nods and closes her eyes as I start to strum her like I know she likes. “You must be so close.” I close my teeth over her nipple and she shrieks as I press my thumb against her clit. I feel her contracting around my finger, coming fast and hard. Once she stops thrashing around, I rear up onto my knees to start taking off the costume.
Logan opens her eyes and smiles sleepily while I strip. “Maybe leave the coat on,” she suggests. “Unbuttoned.”
I stand up and peel off the pants while she watches and I unbutton the coat, tossing the damn ruffly thing across the room. “As the lady desires,” I growl, pouncing back on her and hooking her knees around my forearms. I spread her wide with her feet in the air and dive inside. We both shout at the intensely deep angle, and I hold her gaze while I start to pound into her. The seams under the arms of the coat start to rip as I readjust Logan’s legs, letting them drop. She immediately hooks them around my waist and grabs my face with both hands, bringing my mouth to hers.
Our tongues wrestle as I feel the orgasm ripple through my spine. Feeling inspired, I pull out and watch as my come splashes on Logan’s belly. “Oh, fuck, Cal, yes!” She looks down and gasps as the hot ropes land on her skin. Both of us are still for a few minutes, me kneeling between her legs in a ripped colonial coat, her covered in my jizz. And then we start laughing. This is the part I love, when we try something new and get totally into it. Together. I lie on my side and poke at the mess I made, spelling out the letters of my name in the puddle on her flat belly.
“You going to clean me up?” Logan bites her lip and I flash a grin at her. I stand up from the bed and plunk the hat on her head, scooping her into my arms and carrying her toward the bathroom. I turn on the shower and climb in there with her, not caring a bit that I’m totally ruining my new costume.