Cassie drove south from Maynard on Route 27, then east on Route 9 into Wellesley, and was mildly disappointed that Routes 3 and 1 weren’t part of the itinerary. Neil Young and Linda Ronstadt were belting out Heart of Gold on the radio as she pulled into the Dunkin’ Donuts parking lot where Leilani was waiting for her. Cassie cut the engine of her faded yellow VW Beetle and hopped out.
“Aloha, babe!” Cassie squealed as she squeezed Lani in a tight hug.
“Same to you!” Lani giggled, wriggling her nose after being squashed into the sheepskin collar of Cassie’s dungaree jacket. “I’m glad you could make it.”
“Sure, DEC is closed for Patriots’ Day.” Cassie looked through the window at the trays of chocolate-coated donuts. “God, the smell of this place makes me wanna barf.”
“Let’s start walking,” Lani suggested.
“So what’s this all about?” Cassie asked as they strolled towards Central Avenue.
“It’s called the Wellesley Scream Tunnel. Wellesley students line the marathon course at the halfway point and cheer the runners as loud as they can. They say you can hear it from a mile away.”
“And this year is special because women are allowed to run for the first time,” Cassie guessed. “Without having to sneak around using their initials on the entry form or wearing a hood while they run.”
“Yup!” Lani crowed. “There are eight women running this year, and we’re going to cheer every one of them as loud as we can!”
“So, do we ignore the men in solidarity with the women?”
“Heck, no! Last year, we made signs that said stuff like Kiss Me, I’m Hawai’ian, or Kiss Me If You Like Fast Women. Some of those guys don’t shave closely, and you’ll get rugburn if you aren’t careful,” Lani added, rubbing her jaw.
“Why didn’t you invite me last year, anyway?” Cassie demanded good-naturedly.
“I did invite you!” Lani laughed. “But you were all broken up about your precious Bruins losing Game 7 to Montréal the night before.”
“Ugh, don’t remind me,” Cassie groaned. “The greatest offensive juggernaut in the history of the league, and they got bounced out of the playoffs in the first round by a rookie goaltender. And then they wouldn’t let me into the locker room with your old press pass so I could jack off some of the guys and help get their minds off it!” She paused, still struck by the injustice of it all. “At least we beat Kevin’s Maple Leafs in the first round this year.”
“So anyway,” Lani continued, “Last year, I met up with some of the girls I knew who were dual-enrolled at Wellesley and MIT, and we had a blast. We technically shouldn’t be here this year because we’ve graduated—”
“And we were never Wellesley students to begin with—” Cassie pointed out.
“Yes, obviously,” Lani rolled her eyes. “Just keep a low profile, and nobody will care.”
“You can count on me!” Cassie laughed. “With my Kiss Me, I’m Irish sign, I’ll be practically invisible.”
“You know, in this town, you may be right. Irish chicks are a dime a dozen,” Lani teased.
“So, how’s work?” Cassie inquired. Lani had joined an advocacy group out of college, trying to boost support for the public transit system.
“Ugh, don’t remind me,” Lani echoed. “Route 128 and the I-495 loop are just encouraging urban sprawl into the western suburbs, service on the T is terrible, but there’s a fare hike every couple of years—”
“It’s up to 40 cents now, isn’t it?”
“Yeah, which makes that song about Charlie sound positively quaint. ‘He put ten cents in his pocket, kissed his wife and family, went to ride on the MTA…’” Lani sang sarcastically.
“Well, I know you’ll keep fighting,” Cassie said as she hooked her elbow around Lani’s and pulled her in for a walking side-hug. “Not that I want you to go anywhere, but are you still considering moving to Honolulu?”
“Maybe in a few years,” Lani sighed. “There were huge investments in infrastructure after statehood in ‘59, but after a decade of poorly-planned growth, the bloom is off the rose. Or the orchid, as it were,” she added wryly. “There’d be plenty to keep me busy if I moved to Oahu.”
At that moment, they arrived at the spot where Lani’s friends were camped out behind the barricade lining the roadway. Introductions were made, and Cassie and Lani were each given a poster board and a black Marks-A-Lot magic marker.
“Maybe I’ll make side A and side B,” Cassie said mysteriously as she started outlining a four-leaf clover in black. “Kiss Me, I’m Irish, of course, but then I might want to have some fun later on.”
“Okay, but nothing too raunchy,” Lani said. “I’m going to get a red marker so I can draw some orchids. I’ll get you a green one for your shamrock.”
“Oh, Lani!” Cassie called after her. “You should do Lei Me, I’m Hawaiian instead!”
“Nothing too raaaun-chy!” Lani trilled over her shoulder as she walked away.
For the first hour or so, Cassie played it cool, screaming her head off and giving smooches to the men who stopped to kiss the Blarney Stone. “All right, I’m ready to make side B,” she declared eventually. A row of three port-a-potties had been set up nearby, and she slipped into one for a minute. When Cassie emerged, Lani saw her stuffing something into her jacket pocket. Cassie got a marker and made her sign, then returned to her spot along the barricade.
Leilani gave her a quizzical look. “What’s that in your pocket?”
“Oh, just my t-shirt,” Cassie replied breezily, squinting down the road and unbuttoning the front of her denim jacket. “Oh, here come some cute guys! Wooo!” As they drew closer, Cassie held up her new sign.
YOU DASH,
I FLASH 🗲
With her jacket fully unbuttoned, Cassie was displaying a vertical strip of pale skin all the way from her throat down to her waistline. One man noticed her sign, grinned, and put on a burst of speed. Cassie grabbed her lapels and yanked them apart, exposing her budding breasts to him while she whooped and hollered. He cheered back, along with a few lucky runners near him who witnessed the proceedings.
“Jeezum, Cassie!” Leilani scolded her with a laugh. “What part of ‘nothing too raunchy’ did you not understand?”
“Oh, big whoop,” Cassie snickered. “It’s nothing you can’t see in an art museum.”
Lani shook her head in equal parts exasperation and admiration. “Well, I guess if it makes people happy…” she conceded.
“Exactly! These guys need some motivation before Heartbreak Hill, and I aim to give it to them. Wooo!” Cassie held up her sign again, looking for her next victim.
“Cassie, look! There’s a woman!”
“WooOooOoo!”
After exposing her chest for an hour, Cassie was ready for Plan C.
“Lani?”
“Yeah?”
“I thought of another sign I wanna make.”
Leilani sighed. “Fine, give me the flashing sign, and you can use the back of my Hawai’i sign.”
“Really? You’d do that for me?”
“Sure, why not? I flashed probably a hundred people at that frat party last year; what’s a few hundred more?”
Cassie kissed Lani’s forehead; then they swapped signs. “If we do this again next year, I’m bringing my own goddamned markers,” Cassie groused before scurrying off. When she returned, she was giddy with excitement.
“I’m afraid to ask,” Lani snorted. “All right, let’s see it.”
Cassie stepped up to the barricade and held up her coup de grâce.
YOU PISS,
I KISS 🗢
“Holy shit, Cassie!” Leilani exploded with laughter. “I have to show off my tits for this?”
“Probably no one will notice you,” Cassie deadpanned. “Girls flashing their tits are a dime a dozen around here.”
An older runner, probably in his forties, slowed down and stopped in front of Cassie. “You’ve gotta be kidding me. Right here?” he asked incredulously, his eyes shifting from side to side.
Cassie flicked her head in the direction of the port-a-potties. “You got a couple minutes?”
“Sure,” he chuckled as he hopped over the barricade. “Hopefully, I’ll finish the race, but I’m not going to be setting any records.”
Cassie led him to a port-a-potty, and they both squeezed inside. She knelt on the floor facing him. “Oh, by the way,” she purred, “You’ll be pissing in my mouth.”
The man’s eyes bugged out. “Uh, can I get my kiss first, then?”
“Fine, but no backing out!” Cassie laughed as she craned her neck up to meet him as he bent down to kiss her. “Okay, now it’s your turn to deliver.”
He pulled down his shorts to reveal his sweaty dick and balls, then took his cock in hand and pointed it at Cassie’s face. “Uh…” he hesitated.
Cassie winked at him, then popped her mouth onto the head of his cock and gave him a thumbs-up.
The runner relaxed and started filling Cassie’s mouth with hot, rich, concentrated piss. He had been trying to stay hydrated as best he could, but after running for over two hours, his electrolyte balance was understandably off-kilter. Cassie sucked it down like sun tea through a straw, gulping it as fast as he pumped it out.
“Wow, you’re a real champ, baby!” he complimented her. Cassie waggled her eyebrows in response and opened her jacket so he could look at her half-pint tits while she finished drinking his pint of amber ale. She released his penis, licked his piss hole clean, and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. And then, as always…
“Buuurrrp!”
“Excuse you,” he chortled. “Say,” he added in what he hoped was an offhand manner. “Would you, uh…”
“…be willing to suck your cock for real?” Cassie guessed with a wry smile.
He grinned sheepishly. “I’d give you another kiss afterwards.”
“All right, that seems fair,” Cassie giggled before spitting into her hand. She grabbed his dick and began beating it vigorously, fapping his flaccid flopper with her feminine fist until it felt fat and firm. Holding onto his hips with both hands, she heaved her head onto his hefty hard-on. She sucked his stiff dick, sliding her luscious lips up and down his salty shaft and twiddling the tip with her talented tongue. Her grandmother Julia would have been so proud.
“Oh, baby…” he barked after only a few minutes of Cassie’s special service. “Baby, I’m gonna… BLOW!” he bellowed. He pulled back just as he shot a thick jet of sperm into Cassie’s mouth, causing the tail end of it to flop over her lower lip and slap against her chin. He pounded his purple prick in delicious agony, aiming it at her tiny tits while she hurriedly opened her jacket and shrugged it down off her shoulders. Cassie never flinched as he fired a fusillade of five fat flares of fertile fucksauce onto her fledgling funbags.
Cassie peered down at the pearly puddle plastered on her petite pair. “Jiminy. Effing. Crickets.” she breathed slowly, doing the math in her head. “Well, I’d say you definitely hit 26.2 right there.”
“Miles?” he asked, confused.
“Milliliters,” Cassie giggled. “Now give me that kiss you owe me; I want to get back out there and watch my girl Lani flash her Hawaiian hooters!”
