Around the summer solstice, Jane started seeing a strange sticker around town. The first time had been at the grocery store in the produce section. Someone had pasted it to the bin where she usually picked through the cucumbers. The woman on the sticker reminded Jane of a fairy princess, which brought back some girlhood dreams. The eyes on the sticker glowed—a memory—and then a strobing flash of light.
At once, Jane felt transported to her backyard pool, the one she played in while growing up, the one where her good friend Megan sucked her vulva for the first time, cicada skittering to each flick of the tongue. A bead of sweat on the tip of her nose. She could hear herself whimpering—her pussy coming alive.
Unaware of where she was, Jane ran her hand over her forehead and cheek. Her hard nipples poked out against the white, cotton fabric of her t-shirt. She reached out and took hold of the cart as her hips undulated, keeping time with the memory of that girl’s tongue. People stopped shopping. Mothers ushered small children away. Men gazed as though they owned the rights to her hips. She could feel Megan’s finger press through her wet cleft. “This can’t be happening,” Jane thought.
Her body shuddered and her breathing grew heavy. She touched her nipples, while a wave of pleasure rippled out from below her belly. And for a few seconds, standing in the middle of the grocery store, she relished her orgasm. When she looked down at the bin, the sticker was gone. Jane quickly composed herself and picked out the most phallic cucumber for her cart. Smoothing her skirt one last time, she smiled and walked on to the butcher to finish shopping.
The next time she saw the sticker was on the side of the road under an overpass. She had gotten a flat tire on the way home from Ladies Bridge. Having called her roadside service, she saw it, the lascivious sticker, pasted up high looking down. The eyes glowed again—another flash of light.
And Jane could feel her sweaty body from dancing at the rave. She was in the parking lot with Jimmy, the graduate assistant who taught her favorite Medieval Literature course. She was bent over his red, Pontiac Fiero. Her green skirt hiked up. Panties pulled down just enough for his cock to pump past her lips. She could hear the bass pounding from the club.
Unaware of what she was doing, she lifted her shirt and bra and bent over her broken down Volvo station wagon, the same feeling of anticipation juxtaposed in time. The warm metal against her bare breasts, her hands unbuttoning her jeans, and pulling them down to the flood of light from a tow truck. Jane did not stop. She worked her clit with her index finger. Her soft moans growing more frantic like that boy’s thrusting prick. A man in grey overalls stepped out of the truck and walked over. She could her his zipper as though it were against her ear. “What am I doing,” Jane thought?
The man stepped behind her while she slid her jeans and panties past her knees. She looked up at the glowing eyes of the sticker and felt the strange cock poised. Her eyes widened as the thick shaft sunk deep into her twat. Cars whizzed by with each deliberate trust that hit hard against her ass and then a little grind before pulling back. More cars flew past before she felt him pull all the way out. She glanced back and saw him working her pussy juice over his hard cock. She knew what he wanted. Jimmy had wanted it too. Jane reached back and pulled her cheeks apart exposing her dainty asshole to the night air. She felt his spit fall between her crack. Neither violent nor gentle but firm and unrelenting, the strange man’s dick—Jimmy’s dick—inched in as she exhaled, “Fuck me.”
Two minutes or ten, she did not know, but she felt his cum leaking out and a comfortable, sated feeling wash over her. She looked up, and the sticker was gone. The man zipped up and towed her home. The spare was flat—her husband could deal with it tomorrow.
The last time Jane saw the sticker was at a BBQ. Her couple friends mingled sipping cocktails when she noticed the image stuck to a soccer ball that two bored teenagers kicked back and forth. She quickly looked away from the light, a flame already itching away at her insides. She headed to the bathroom, afraid of what might happen. As she approached, Bill, her husband’s best friend, opened the door. “Oh, excuse me,” she said and tried to get by, but he did not budge.
“Hey sweet tits,” Bill said.
“You’re drunk,” Jane said scooting under his arm, “now let me pee.”
“Go ahead.”
She slipped her panties down from under her skirt and sat on the toilet while Bill watched. “Happy?”
“Not yet.” He shut and locked the door.
She looked up at the bulge in his khaki shorts as he set his cock free. She held it in her hand for a moment before taking it into her mouth. The musky smell of his balls transported her back to a different bathroom—a stripper at her bachelorette party. The smell of a strange well-endowed man pushing all the way down her almost married throat while her girlfriend’s chanted. All the sex she could have had over the years except she had stayed faithful fluttered through her mind. And now the bile built up in her stomach as she gagged. Bill’s semen shot out as she pulled back, his load spraying on her face and down her tank top.
She walked out of the house and into the street. Away from everything. The figure on the sticker shifted until Jane’s image looked down from countless vantage points at a world of lust and desire.
