Pearl has a crush.
People call me BC. Big Cat. A nickname I've had since I was a boy. However, during my years at art college I was known as 'Fluffer'. These are the stories of that time. Fluffer's tales.
--Trigger warning. Though this starts fun, it has upset a few readers. If you're still in recovery from a loved one's betrayal you might want to read a different story. Sorry. BC
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Pearl was a shaggy-pink-haired punkette in Sara's year who, since Mazzy mentioned me in the music press, had developed a huge crush on yours truly. Actually more than a crush. She kind of stalked me. More than once, I'd lowered my drawing-board to find her fluttering enormous, Cleopatra-eyes at me across the studio, resplendent in her tutu, thigh socks and steel-toe boots; a look oddly in keeping with her Japanese heritage. I was flattered by her attention and found her spikily cute (it'd been weeks since Mazzy and months since Guapa) but Sara warned me off. Apparently Pearl had marched up to her once demanding, "Is it you I speak to about having a go on Fluffer? How much?"
She'd inherited her mum's beauty, but her Dad's arrogance.
Pearl's dad was the head of the school-- AKA "The Professor". He also became my best pal when he found out I was a professional carpenter. It turned out he needed some work done on his house, a listed brutalist masterpiece he'd designed himself, and offered me a day's work repairing a window. Mate's rates, naturally. A typical architect, he didn't see this as me doing him a favour either, but rather: "a great opportunity to get hands-on with a piece of architectural history." At least he sweetened the offer with use of his pool. It was a hot summer and I needed the cash (and favourable grades) so I agreed.
It was only when I turned up to recce the job that I remembered Pearl lived with him.
The Professor showed me round his, admittedly outstanding, house and I made a list of materials he would need to fix it. All the while, Pearl lay sunbathing in a tiny white bikini.
"You know Pearl." He wafted a hand in her direction. "Right give me that list, I'll go and get what you need. Why don't you test the pool? I shan't be long."
I suggested I help him at the builder's merchants but he insisted he'd be OK and left me alone with his scary daughter.
The garden was huge, surrounded by a small forest of tall trees and very private. I'd brought my swimming trunks but faltered, unsure where to change. Pearl watched me squirm for a bit, then pointed to a concrete-roofed, timber-slatted construction at the head of the pool. I'd assumed was some kind of vent but it turned out to be a brutalist pool house.
I undressed in the dim little bunker, jumping as a shadow slid across needle-thin strips of sunlight cast on the concrete floor--the tip-toeing shape of a girl who clearly didn't realise how the sun betrayed her. She dropped to all fours, and peered up through the slats. My skin prickled under her intrusive gaze, but my heart kicked off with the illicit thrill of it, swelling me as I pulled on my trunks. Her shadow slinked off.
Sliding open the door revealed her lying on a lounger right outside, laid out between the pool house and the pool. She was sunbathing on her front with her bikini top unfastened and she bit back a grin as I padded past her to the water.
Pearl's body, usually trussed and strapped into its spiky punk armour, was surprisingly sensuous underneath; a long back, with short, muscular legs, curvy hips and an enticing bubble-butt. My heart raced. My shorts shrank. When I dived into the cool water I half expected it to hiss and steam.
I swam to the opposite end and cast a quick eye in her direction. She'd turned over to watch me, unabashed, eyes shielded with one hand. She was reclined and-- my eyes were watery, I rubbed them -- yep. Topless.
I thrashed two or three more lengths, my brain and body slugging it out over what I should do.
Brain said, "Sara warned you about her. Also, she seems the sort to enjoy angering her dad, she might want to get caught."
Body replied, "She sexy. She keen. Give me sex."
I took another breather. Pearl still stared, this time over raised knees. She caught me checking her and twisted her feet at the ankle. Was that to offer her plump gusset?
I swallowed and forced myself to stay put. If we were caught I'd piss off both a client and the person in charge of my grades.
She tapped a foot, scowled, then shouted, "Dad takes ages in the builder's merchants." Her squeaky voice echoed off the rippling water. "He'll be at least half an hour." She tilted her face to the sun and butterflied her knees flat. "Just saying."
I locked my brain in its room and charged up the pool toward her.
I stopped bang in front of her lounger. She smirked as my gaze snagged between her creamy thighs, where the tempting ball of her mound was pushed up by her spread knees. She rocked her hips, as if to show she knew where I was looking, and tickled a breast until her nipple pointed. "Hello Fluffer."
She laughed a little nervously as I pushed up onto the poolside and presented myself, drenched and pumped from exercise and excitement. She bit her lip, my shadow laid across her like a prediction. I was already pretty hard in my trunks and made no attempt to hide the tenting.
But suddenly I didn't know where to start. Pearl was the first girl I'd ever wanted to lick and fuck before we'd even had a conversation. It felt cold. Wrong, even.
As if bored waiting for me to start, she fingertipped the undersides of her breasts, then down, over her stomach, hips, and along her inner thighs.
'The vagina on a woman is here' I recalled Sara's drawing all those months ago, and smiled. The fond memory calmed me down a little, but then stung as I remembered Sara's warning.
"You gonna fluff me or not?" Pearl talked to my shorts and torso.
I took a deep breath and followed the guidance of my shadow. I stooped over her, dribbling chilly water over her hot skin. She shivered and giggled.
"Oops," I said.
She grinned. "I was wet already."
We chuckled at the corny gag and I put my lips where I'd dripped, replacing cold with warm, plucking kisses over her breasts and ribs.
She hummed and pushed her chest up to me. I poised over her on my arms, braced on the sides of the lounger, dipping my head to her. There was a massive (and surprisingly horny) difference between my 6 and a half foot frame and her 5 feet, and when I dropped between her legs it was my stomach and chest that settled to the warm, soft-on-hard contents of her bikini.
She whimpered then surprised me by going completely still. I looked up to find her staring down at me, eyes welling. This wasn't the tough punkette I expected.
She wiped her cheek and grinned. "Ignore me, sorry. I've wanted this so long." She laughed wetly and grabbed my head, pulling our faces together. Her tongue ramraided me and I tried to ignore an uneasy sense of pulling on a tiger's tail as she growled in my mouth, grinding hips and face to me at the same time. Even as we snogged, she pressed my shoulders, urging me down...
Overwhelmed by her, I sat back to enjoy her sulk while I swung her knees shut. She was an excellent sulker. Pearl's bottom lip curled out naturally, giving her a constant, filthy pout that I'd imagined many times covered in my cum. A shameful admission, but I'd been spoilt by the likes of Guapa, Charlotte and Anne-Marie. I was starting to believe most women secretly craved semen, whatever Sara said to the contrary. Also, I figured someone as infatuated as Pearl would surely do anything...
