A Test of the Wish

Francis bounced to his feet, storming out of his grandfather's attic in his excitement to try out his second wish. Breathing heavily from exertion, he burst out onto the wraparound porch and began looking up and down the street. There had to be someone to test it out on! Slowly, his face began to fall, the adrenaline wearing off. The street was silent, the inhabitants indoors or out. Francis sighed, shaking his head, and began to turn around, ready to return inside to the attic he was supposed to be cleaning. Then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw a woman appear from behind the house on the street corner. Licking his lips, he paused, hand on the doorknob, and, with growing excitement, watched her turn towards him, jogging down the sidewalk. Struggling to contain the impulse to run up to her - and probably frighten the hell out of the woman - Francis sat down on the wicker chair by the door and waited.

"Hey!" he called out once the jogger was even with his seat, getting her attention. "Come here!"

With a small shrug, the woman stopped her exercise and walked up to him, a thin eyebrow arched in curiosity.

"Do I know you?" she asked, halting before him. Francis grinned back at her, taking in the canary yellow spandex shorts and sports bra, her firm tanned belly, the grey-blue eyes piercing his, and her hair, the color of golden wheat, bound back in a ponytail.

"Well?" she said, her brow furrowing in irritation. "What do you want?"

"Turn around," he said.

"Anything else?" the woman asked acidly over her shoulder after presenting him with her toned derriere. "I need to get a move on, you per-"

"Bend over," Francis cut her off. "Touch your toes if you can."

With a roll of her eyes, the jogger obeyed, a sneer forming across her pretty lips. The young man watched the spandex in front of his eyes stretch a just a little more, maintaining a smooth, taut surface over her backside.

"Are you wearing any panties?" he asked in a hoarse, shaking voice.

"Like I'd tell you, you -" she began scathingly.

"Tell me," Francis commanded, interrupting her once more.

"No," the woman said, her voice suddenly shaking and her grey-blue eyes round. "No, I'm not."

"Laundry day?" the young man smirked.

"No," she said in a quiet voice, shaking her head.

"Okay," his grin grew. "Tell me why."

"I," the jogger began with a nervous gulp. "I don't have any panties that won't show beneath these shorts and - and -" She pressed her eyes closed in embarrassment, her voice growing small. "And - I like g-guys watching my - my ass."

"Like I'm doing now?"

"N-no, of course not!" the woman denied him vehemently, shaking her head forcefully. "This - this is humiliat- "

"You like it," Francis growled. "Admit it."

"F-fine," she groaned. "Yes. I like it. I like having your face inches from my ass."

"And your pussy," he offered.

"And my - my pussy," the jogger agreed, her breath ragged.

"You find it - arousing," the young man smiled.

"I - I - yes," she admitted, her cheeks burning.

"You want my face closer," Francis continued, his voice thick with lust. "Up against you, my tongue touching you, caressing your skin, slipping between your labia, playing with your hard, wanting clit."

"Yes, oh - oh yes," the woman began to pant. "Do it. Stick your tongue in my pussy. S-suck on my c-cunny, please. Please, oh, please, I need it so."

"But should I?" he asked, a wicked little grin on his face as the heady aroma of her arousal filled his nostrils. "What's in it for me? What would you do for it?"