On a recent Saturday night, I found myself so hot & horny that my libido might set the house on fire. My lust mounted, and despite my best efforts to contain it, the winds of my desire only fanned the flames. They were growing out of control, and I realized I needed some help. And fast.
So I did what any bad girl would to do, and called my local fire department. Although the flames never have been completely extinguished, I pleaded with them to please send someone over who might be able to at least help me cool the fire fed by these raging hormones, even if only a bit.
“We’ll get someone there right away Mam” the curious-sounding voice on the other end said. But a blaze was already licking my ass, and I needed to do something NOW! So, I went solo, working those hot-spots, where-ever they popped up, with everything I had. When it seemed that I was getting a handle on the inferno, reducing one hot-spot after another to a smolder, a new one would erupt with more fury somewhere else. I used my bare hands, kitchen utensils, garden tools… whatever I could find to beat back the conflagration, until it seemed all was about to be lost.
Not a moment too late, there was a knock at my door. Opening it up, my eyes fell upon Fireman Mack who was standing at the ready to take on the task of containing my runaway firestorm.
He looked an excellent choice to come to my rescue, as his eyes promptly evaluated the scene before him. With a palpable sense of duty and expertise, Mister Raincoat/Helmet Man quickly identified my numerous hotspots, and revealed his love for the job by asking if he had missed any. I hesitated, not knowing if I should point out every little ember, when he whipped out his equipment right in front of my amazed face. Ho Boy, had they sent the right guy! The red glow of my crackling desire reflected right off the sheen of his finely maintained instrument as he readied it for work.
He assured me that his gear had successfully managed situations like this before, although maybe none quite as hot. Immediately, I hustled Mack in through the door and examined his apparatus more closely, just to make sure that it was “up” to the job. His sturdy fire hose appeared to be of superior quality, so I encouraged him to let the fluid pressure build quickly so he could start performing his duty.
“I know just what to do,” said Mack. Skillfully positioning that hose of his, he recommended that he should enter and exit both my front and back doors -- and do so several times – as the best strategy. This approach, he told me, would initially make the situation worse, but could actually give him the chance to surround the blaze and gain control.
With the commitment of a man on a mission, he toiled away vigorously, assuring me that I need not help. “Just let me take over and do all the work,” he said with the confidence of a seasoned firefighter. His increasingly heavy breathing expelled air that – as it brushed my exposed skin here and there – gave away the blast-furnace deep within his finely toned exterior.
When I exclaimed with alarm that it exceeded the heat of the fire he was supposed to be extinguishing, he told me not to worry, as sometimes it’s best to fight fire with fire. Submitting to his obvious skill, I let him do as he deemed necessary. I think I could hear alarms going off in other houses in the neighborhood as the “battle” raged on within these walls.
I was gasping for air and about to pass out when he announced that it was over. He had finally succeeded, and I started to catch my breath as he licked my many “wounds” in hopes of soothing the burns covering my body. My relief and his victory lap (and boy, was he “lapping”!), however, turned out a bit premature.
This was indeed a fire unlike any he had ever tackled, so when it started up all over again – a hotspot here and then another there – he seemed slightly dazed and off-guard.
But this guy really relished his work and it showed. After a couple of non-stop hours of chasing down and smothering the flames, Mack decided it was time to bring out his secret weapon, a special spray of his own making. He explained that he expected this to put out any and all fires, and it would be his last shot. He begged for my help throttling up his pump to make sure it was fully loaded before he shot his final wad, and I, still winded and aching, happily obliged.
A few minutes on, he let out a Geronimo-like scream as he spurted helplessly in unintended directions. “I have to do this in order to make sure that the fire is completely out,” he rationalized. He guessed right.
Hot, but dripping wet with his special concoction, a calm fell over me as I realized the flames were finally out. Mack the Fireman was completely exhausted, but had an unmistakable look of satisfaction on his face as he thoroughly surveyed my property… you know, just to make sure.
Worn out, he whispered to me that this was the hottest fire that he had ever had the privilege of engaging, and that he hoped soon, the alarm at the fire station would go off for this address again. Who knows, my next blaze just might be a two or three alarm inferno!
This story – embellished just a little (LOL!) -- of my encounter with Mack the Fireman is based on a true story. I hope you enjoyed it. Mack is really a fireman I know, and believe me, he really does know how to handle that hose of his to tame the hottest of situations.
Till next time, be good (and bad!) and have some hot and horny fun.
Juicy Smooches,
Lusty Louisa
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