Indecent (The Cage Sessions Book 1) Read online

  Indecent:

  The Cage Sessions Book 1

  By

  Skylar Cross

  SMASHWORDS EDITION

  *****

  PUBLISHED BY:

  D2Rev Publishing / Skylar Cross on Smashwords

  Indecent: The Cage Sessions Book 1

  Copyright © 2014 D2Rev Publishing / Skylar Cross

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  All characters depicted in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  Adult Reading Material

  *****

  Chapter 1

  It's all Damien Cage's fault that the cop wrote me the ticket. Fuck, I'm lucky I wasn't arrested for public lewdness.

  After my interview with Damien and his glorious tattooed chest, all powerful and stony as it glistened in the sun by his pool, I left his mansion a wet steamy mess of unfucked girl.

  After a couple of pit stops, I take the ramp onto the highway heading back home. There I hit a wall of Miami traffic.

  "Fuck!" I shout.

  Goddamn, this means forty-five minutes before I'm home. Fuck me!

  Not to mention my AC is shaky. Keeps making weird noises. I have it on high but I can still feel the late afternoon South Florida sun doing its best to melt the roof of my ancient Toyota Corolla.

  But I'm comforted by my new friend on the passenger seat.

  I reach over into the purple plastic bag. I put my hand inside and touch him.

  Ooooh, he feels so massive and jiggly! I sooooo have to get this monster in my pussy... my ass if I'm daring enough... and fast!

  I had to, okay? Don't fucking judge me.

  I threw away my old dong... long story... and I had been meaning to get a new one. After my interview with Damien, I made a beeline to Jared's office hoping for a quick fuck to release some tension. When that didn't work out, I hit the sex toy shop over on Grand.

  That's where I got my new electric blue buddy whose fake little veins are now being probed by my fingers.

  I knew he was the one when I saw him hanging on his hook all lonely in his packaging. Electric blue. Smooth on the front side, all veiny on the backside. Big juicy balls. Massive flared head.

  It was lust at first sight.

  What if I just take him out of his plastic packaging right here? Nothing wrong with that, right? Nobody will notice, right?

  Right?

  I reach down to where you twist the package open. It parts easily. Thank God they don't seal these things like electronics! No scissors required.

  My fingers do a little walk in the packaging, past the flared base up to the fake balls.

  Oh God, they're massive!

  My clit is on fire. Shit, I'm going to have to replace my seat cushion again. Am I normal? Do I think about sex too much? Do I get wet too much?

  But how can I not think about sex after sitting down for a half-hour with rock god Damien Cage? Shit, when Steve told me he was sending me to interview the lead singer of Eon Sphinx, I had a gash attack right there. Thought I was going to drip all over Steve's chair.

  "Fuck!" I shout again at the traffic.

  And now I'm sitting here baking as my AC growls at me.

  What's a horny girl to do?

  I look around.

  Can any of the other drivers see me? How much can I get away with? God, I wish I had an SUV that rides high off the ground instead of this oven on wheels with its mismatched door.

  I squeeze my new buddy some more, moving my fingers up to the massive head.

  Oh God!

  My fingers crawl up to the top and tap the fake little slit, imagining the moment... soon... that it will first part my pussy lips.

  I slam on the brakes, almost hitting the Impala in front of me.

  Shit, Annika, don't get in a fucking accident!

  I bought an eight-incher this time. Usually I'm a seven girl, but after meeting Damien Cage I fucking need eight!

  Damien Cage! I interviewed Damien Fucking Cage!

  He's the reason I have to get through this fucking traffic so I can fuck myself before my mom gets home from work!

  What the fuck is wrong with me? I'm better than this. Ever since I took the job at MiamiImproper.com, I've met some semi-famous people. No biggie.

  As for actual celebrities, I've met a few over on South Beach. Talk about pretentious asswipes.

  But Damien Cage.....

  Fuuuuuuuuck!

  He sat there on his outdoor patio nursing a big pink drink in the largest martini glass I had ever seen. When I sat down for the interview, he offered me one but I declined.

  Now I'm thinking that wouldn't have been a bad idea.

  But at the time I feared that a drink would cause me to lick his abs. God, they are perfect! He must workout every fucking day.

  Grrrrrrrrr!

  I bang my steering wheel.

  Everybody move! Can't you see? I'm a horny bitch and I need to fuck myself with this giant dildo!

  Did I say that out loud? Hope not.

  What if I fingered myself here in the car? That could get messy.

  But maybe not.

  I look to my left. A Latina woman bopping to salsa in a green Accord.

  I look to my right. A man in his fifties wearing sunglasses talking animatedly into his phone in his silver Jaguar. Bet his AC is nice and cool.

  Okay, going to give it a go.

  Glad I wore a skirt today, at least. Jeans would have been impossible.

  I reach down between my legs.

  Fuck, I need to undo the seatbelt. It's in the goddamned way.

  The warning light comes on, squawking that I'm in danger. Yeah, what the fuck ever. I was in danger the moment I set foot on Damien Cage's property.

  I get under my panties and find my drenched clit.

  Hi, babe.

  I rub my outer lips up and down, squeezing my hood inside of them. I picture Damien Cage at his outdoor table. Deep blue eyes piercing my soul. Pierced left eyebrow. Tiny jagged tattoo around the right one. Dark hair with bleach-blond highlights.

  Oh, God!

  I let my middle finger drift inside me as I draw little circles on my nub with my thumb.

  Mmmmmmmmmm...

  With my left hand, I grip the steering wheel tight. Have to pay at least some attention to my spot on the highway.

  Time for a second finger.

  I put my left leg up a little for better access. I look around. My traveling companions are now two gamer-type guys in an old gray Taurus and an old lady in a peach Cadillac. Nobody seems to notice me.

  Nonchalantly, I duck down in my seat like I have to seriously study my tachometer. This is only so I can get a better angle.

  In go my fingers.

  Fuck!

  Oh God, what's wrong with me?

  Why am I masturbating in traffic? Really? I mean come on, is this truly necessary, Annika?

  I pull my fingers out and sit up.<
br />
  Enough of this! Control yourself, Annika!

  I turn on the radio, flipping stations. The cassette adapter into which I usually plug my Sansa mp3 player stopped working last week.

  But good ol' FM pulls through as I find some music I like. It occupies my mind and calms my pussy a little. I sing along with Pop Evil on Torn to Pieces and Journey on Don't Stop Believin' as the traffic begins to pick up a little.

  But my cooch re-launches her waterworks at the haunting chords that kick off the next song on the hard rock station.

  Shit.

  It's Drifting in the Sky by Eon Sphinx.

  Annnnnnnnnnnd we're back.....

  A massive gash attack hits me again, harder this time. I feel it in my thighs and goddamned kneecaps, for Christ's sake!

  Fuck, I think I'm sex-obsessed. Maybe I should find a therapist.

  Then I look over at the big purple bag again.

  What if I could get my new bad boy inside me while sitting here in traffic?

  Annika, shut the fuck up! You're insane. Stop it. Just wait until you get home!

  But I'm obsessed. No amount of singing out loud is going to help. I think they used to call it nymphomania. I call it need-to-get-fucked-right-fucking-now.

  That's it. Let's get risky.

  I reach over to the package and touch the big electric blue monster again.

  Ahhhhhh.

  My pussy twitches.

  Then, I look around again. Gamer boys still on my left. Jaguar guy back again on my right.

  I whip the big floppy cock out of its package and down between my legs.

  I have to reach down with my left hand to move my panties aside.

  Ah, there it is. There's my big glistening boy. Say hello to your new best friend.

  I hear myself make a little whimpering sound.

  Then I push it in.

  Ahhhhhhhhhh...

  All the way in.

  Mmmmmmmmm... so fucking huge. I love it!

  I look around.

  I'm sitting in Miami traffic with an eight-inch dildo inside me!

  Well, okay, seven. That last inch doesn't seem to want to make it.

  The perv in me loves this.

  I move the dildo backwards and forwards.

  I make a sound. Not sure what it is. Kind of like a whimpering dog.

  Good thing my windows are up.

  Slumped down in the seat for better access, I continue fucking myself, every once in a while checking to see if anyone can see what I'm doing.

  I picture Damien Cage's tats as he rides me. I pretend the dildo is his cock, exploding in hot white cream.

  Then reality interrupts.

  I notice a chance to get off the highway. My exit is the next one, so I decide to pull into the breakdown lane and just sneak up.

  I glance in the mirror and see nothing coming. So I zip over and round the bend, stepping on the gas. I'm driving illegally in the breakdown lane, but it will only be for a few seconds.

  Hang on baby, I say to my pussy, we're almost home.

  As I'm halfway around the bend, my exit coming right up, I scream.

  In front of me is a Florida State Trooper with his hand up.

  I slam on the brakes.

  Shit!

  He saunters up to my window. I fumble to get it open. My right hand is still on the base of the dildo, hidden deep inside me.

  "I'm sorry, officer," I said.

  "Are you?" he said. "Because I really don't believe you are."

  He's about fifty with gray clipped hair. Pudgy face, big shoulders, expanding gut.

  "License and registration, please," he says.

  "Yes, officer," I say.

  Fuck, what do I do? To get my license and car registration in the glove compartment, I need to use my left hand because the right is holding in the dildo.

  With my left, I dive over to the glove compartment and open it.

  "Excuse me, miss?" says the trooper.

  I look over at him through the gap between my arm and my breast.

  "Uh-huh?" I say.

  "What are you hiding down there?" he says.

  Had to ask, didn't he?

  "Nothing illegal, officer," I say. "No drugs, no weapons, nothing like that."

  "Hands where I can see them!" he says.

  "But officer, I–"

  "Hands where I can see them NOW!"

  I raise my hands up.

  "Step out of the car please!" he says.

  Shit.

  Today just isn't my day, is it?

  "Officer," I say, "I–"

  "Hands where I can see them!" he shouts.

  Now he's got his silly gun out, pointing it at me with both hands.

  Are you fucking kidding, buddy? Really?

  My heart starts beating wildly and I'm in a full-on sweat. Adrenaline is pumping through my bloodstream. Never had a fucking gun pointed at me before.

  Cars are swerving left now, cutting a wide swath as they stare at the scene.

  "Step out of the car!" he says.

  I open the door and gingerly get out, hoping the dong will fall out onto the car floor.

  But no.

  My panties keep it in just long enough for me to stand up.

  Thanks, panties. Glad you got my back there.

  Then the weight of the dildo allows it to slide past them.

  Plop!

  Right onto the ground.

  With a little bounce and a flop.

  The cop looks down, his gun still pointed at me.

  Everyone stopped next to us looks down.

  The cop tries to suppress a laugh, but it comes out as a snort.

  He holsters his weapon.

  I hear whistles from somewhere.

  The cop, visibly embarrassed, puts on as square a face as he can muster.

  "Pick that up please, miss," he says.

  I pick it up. It jiggles and flops all over the place.

  "Woo-hoo!" shouts someone from a car.

  "Hey!" shouts the cop, scanning the drivers' faces for who said it.

  Here's where I do something that I can't believe I do. It just hits me. I don't know if it was my nerves, the mad adrenaline, or just the fact that the crowd was watching me and I got caught. Something about getting caught doing something bad kicks me up a notch.

  So as his attention is away from me and on the crowd, I hold the dildo up and give it a big lick on the side that didn't touch the pavement.

  When he turns back to me, I innocently throw it in the car. I see a few thumbs-ups and fist pumps behind him.

  "Distracted driving is a serious issue, miss," he says.

  "Yes, officer," I say, "I'm sorry."

  "So is driving in the breakdown lane. I don't care how much of a rush you're in to get somewhere. You can't just drive in the breakdown lane. Now, I'm going to write you a ticket for that alone. Hand me your license and registration and then sit back in your car."

  I get in to the sound of a few more whistles, and retrieve the paperwork.

  The cop takes it, goes to his car, and gets in.

  As soon as his door closes, cheers and applause erupt from several cars.

  "Suck it!" shouts someone.

  "Put it in your ass!" shouts someone else.

  Possessed by an unknown force, I pick up the big jiggly cock and place the base onto the top of my steering wheel. The big head points directly at my mouth. From inside his cruiser, I'm not sure if the trooper can see me. I only see the back of his head in his side mirror.

  I don't know what gets into me, but the excitement and the danger of getting caught are sending me into a hyper-sexual frenzy.

  I love having an audience.

  God, I must be a slut.

  I open my mouth and lean forward, taking the entire head of the cock into my mouth. I move my head back and forth.

  Hoots and hollers everywhere.

  The cop leaps out of his car and shouts "Quiet!" to the crowd.

  I throw the dildo on the passenger seat
. He glares at me. I just smile at him, then he gets back in the car.

  I look over at the crowd. I'm getting fist pumps all over, except for a few prudes who give me a disgusting look.

  Fuck them!

  I make a curtsy-like movement with my hands like I'm taking a bow.

  The cop returns, hands me the ticket, and says, "Have a nice day."

  As he turns his back on me, I pick up the dildo, hold it up to my audience, point at it, then point to him.

  Laughter and cheers erupt.

  "Hey!" shouts the cop at them.

  Then he gets in his car and drives off. I follow him surrounded by applause.

  Chapter 2

  The day had begun as it usually does on MiamiImproper.com days. I wake up, shower and make up, get dressed, then drive to Panera Bread for a bagel and coffee.

  I have two jobs. I write feature articles for MiamiImproper.com, an online magazine about local fashion, entertainment, and nightlife.

  The other is a part-time gig at Studio Suites, an extended stay-type hotel that's quiet and allows me to write while on duty at the desk.

  But today is all about my chosen career, writing.

  Which pays shit.

  As in, nothing.

  But I do it because a) it gets me into places and things that I would never be able to get into otherwise; b) I get to meet a lot of movers and shakers; and c) I'm developing my name as a journalist.

  I look at it as investing in myself.

  The cramped offices of MiamiImproper.com are located between a private eye's office and a promotion company in the back of a strip mall behind a Chinese restaurant and a liquor store.

  Glamorous, huh?

  Normally when I arrive I log on, check email, and make action plans for my assignments.

  But today, Steve comes in all excited.

  I love Steve. He started MiamiImproper.com from his university dorm room, growing it into... well, okay it's not much right now... but we do get some semi-decent advertising revenue. Not enough to pay me, but whatever. I'm investing in myself, remember?

  Steve is a big black gay man. And when I say big, I mean fucking jacked. When he's not working obsessively on the website, he's at the gym.