The Firefighters Ball
Since firefighters aren’t paid their worth, they hold public parties at their fire stations, every 14th of July, to make some extra cash. I never been to one but my friend Carrie goes to their Ball every year since her brother takes care of the sound system. She insisted for me to join this year, advising me to bring a lot of 2€ coins, which is what the shot of alcohol cost.
I grew up in the countryside, where firefighters are usually retired guys or young volunteers from high-school, so I wasn't expecting much showing up at the 7th district station, other than flirting with random dudes, drinking, dancing, flirting a little harder, raising the elbow a little higher and crawling through the door at the end of the evening.
This is not exactly what happened.
On arrival, seeing them in their black t-shirt with the red stripe, standing straight like Douglas firs in their black boots, I thought all the regular guys who showed up had some crazy confidence because hello competition! But the first thing I hear over the loud music is: "Come on, let's go, the girls are all over them."
I'm looking for Carrie, who I just texted, telling her I arrived. I find her next to her brother, begging him to play "Call on Me" so that she can go rub herself against a few abdomens. Sylvain refuses, telling her that song was already reserved for something to come.
She comes with me to buy my first drink.
Bar tables in the courtyard are improvised, with cups already filled with punch and mojitos. Three firefighters are on the other side and one of them tells me:
— Good evening, need a stiff one?
The other two laugh. They’re lucky they're cute. I take a mojito and put one coin in their pot. The cheeky man winks at me before I turn around.
— Are they all like that? I ask Carrie once we're in the distance.
— They're nice, aren't they? I’d love to find Thibault so I could introduce you. He is the one with whom…you know…last year.
We dance, we sweat, we taste mojitos, and then the siren resounds and the music suddenly stops. Four firefighters stand on tables in each corner of the room. They wear the fire outfit and white masks cover their faces.
The girls are screaming.
The music Carrie wanted to put on earlier blows through the speakers. The firefighters start to move their hips in rhythm and it is hysteria. The girls press against the tables, raise their arms to touch them. I glance at the more senior firefighters watching the scene from afar. The show makes them laugh.
It’s not every day you get to see life heroes dancing seductively in front of you. Is the fireman who served me earlier behind one of these masks? The thought is exciting. Suddenly, they take off their jackets and find themselves bare chested, in suspender pants. The chick next to me puts two fingers in her mouth, hisses, and almost pops my eardrum.
You can say beauty is not everything, but when you’re just underneath it, you become a little bit of a beast. I don't even move fearing a movement would make me miss something.
As if they decide to finish us off, they drop the suspenders and in the same gesture their pants.
God damn it, that's too much fresh flesh in front of me! I knock back my mojito in one gulp.
One girl, completely hammered, climbs on one table and starts dancing with one of them. He doesn't even reject her. That gives two other girls the same idea.
Maybe I should too?
How many times in a lifetime can you touch the sweaty skin of a handsome fireman, huh?
I did not dare. I still know how to handle myself with a few drinks. But I am very jealous.
And the music ends, they grab their clothes on the ground and they leave as quickly as they came, in boxers.
With all this excitement I decide to go hydrate with alcohol (I know). The fireman who poured my drink earlier isn’t here.
— Isn't your friend here? I say to the other two.
— Who? Jerem?
— Maybe? Short brown-hair, about that height...
— Yeah, it's Jerem. He will be back soon. Do you want a drink?
— What's your name?
He hands me a cup with a large smile.
— Bottoms up, Melody?
His mischievous look tempts me too much, I finish the glass in five sips.
— Nice! he says, applauding. Here, I'll give you a free one.
I insist on paying for my two drinks but he asks for a kiss on the cheek instead.
Did I pass away? Me…being…in…Heaven... Right?
Going back to the dance floor, Carrie tells me I'm popular. But it’s the Jerem guy who I’m really interested in now. I liked his little wink and I have the impression — I could be wrong — that it was him on the table next to me during the striptease.
— This fire station is insane! I say. Do they hire them on photo or what!
— They put the cute ones in the front, it increases their pot, that's all.
The head of the station himself invites me to dance a salsa. I graciously accept, telling him I cannot refuse an order from the chief, which delights him. He's in his fifties and wants to have fun. So here I am, the queen of the salsa. It’s possible the three mojitos are helping. It is also possible the observing eyes of the other firemen boost my confidence. I have never had so much success! Fortunately, he holds me tight because I can feel the alcohol rising.
The song ends and he offers me a ticket for a free drink.
It's definitely not how they'll make money... So I go to the table to get yet another cocktail. Jerem is back.
— Are you enjoying your evening? he asks.
— Was it you on the table earlier?
He does not respond, but his smirk answers for him.
— Did you like the show? he says
— You guys shouldn't do things like that! I have a heart disease.
— Good thing you're in a fire station then.
— You like giving heart massages, is that it?
I’m loving the very obvious flirt vibe, how he's failing to stay professional, enjoying himself in the process.
— So, he says, need a stiff one?
Colleagues are still laughing. The alcohol makes me daring.
— Are we still talking about cocktails or are you proposing something that doesn't fit in that cup?
The colleagues laugh even more. And it looks like I just piqued his interest.
He invites me to dance, which I accept (of course).
He goes around the table and shows me the way, lightly pressing my back with his hand. This little touch sends heat to the pit of my stomach.
He dances in front of me, and I suddenly find it difficult to support his gaze. Flirting is always easy until things become a bit more serious. He plays with the awkwardness, staring at me. He puts his hand on my back to bring me a little closer. His moving hips, rubbing against mine, are making me so wet... I put my hands on his arms, their firmness aren't helping my case. I furiously wants him inside me now. I would let him take me as he sees fit.
I move closer, I want him to feel my breasts against his chest.
— Uh-oh, he said in my ear. You're gonna start something if you keep going…
He plants his eyes in mine. Feeling a bulge against my body triggers a shiver down my spine. He turns me on so much my body speaks its mind out loud:
— I always wanted to see the hose of a fireman deploy.
He bursts out laughing.
— Oh you dirty, dirty girl!
— I swear, it really, really, really has quickly become the biggest dream of mine.
He glances around, as if to verify no one is seeing us — or the other way around, I can’t tell.
— Do you want to visit the station?
He is serious, which almost makes me sober up.
— Are there girls who say no to that?
He seems to hesitate for two seconds and then he takes me by the hand.
— Come on, I'll show you.
My heart beats much faster than the music, and yet Sylvain is playing some techno right now.
We pass by the toilets, where a long line up of girls see us heading towards the corridor of the private quarters. I know very well what awaits me, that they may think I’m a slut, but tonight I wear vice as a badge of honor. I was chosen by a living God, I am the chosen one, get dressed Ashleys!
The music dissipates as we walk in this long corridor lit with white neon lights, way too bright for my eyes. While the crowd is far behind us, our footsteps can be heard again, a monstrous stage fright takes hold of me. What if he's used to all of this? What if I didn't live up to his expectations? It's nice to play tease but now...
He brings me into a room that seems to be his bedroom. It's a military style, very clean, simple. A bed, a table, a chair, a wardrobe. Nothing lying around.
He closes the door and turns to me.
— You can go out anytime, okay? You don't have to do anything you don’t want to.
Is he crazy or what? Has he ever tried to resist himself? Clearly not.
I steal his mouth. He grabs my face. His tongue makes its way between my lips and mingles avidly with mine. His mouth is slightly sweet, his moans set my body on fire. I run my hand over his pants and find an erection that could pop his fly. I pull his shirt up, our mouths part. There he is, shirtless in front of me. I run my fingers over his pecs.
— It was you! I say. No doubt.
— It was me, yes.
— You know, it was mysterious, that mask. To be honest, it turned me on a little bit.
— Oh yeah? Hold on.
He opens his closet, takes out the white mask and puts it back on his face.
OH FUCK I want him to fuck me like this.
He surely sees the lust in my eyes, because he says:
— Would you like it if I kept it?
My cheeks and my sex are on fire.
— You have no idea, I say, how much I want you to mess me up.
— Take off your jeans, sit on the bed.
Is he even aware that order alone could make me come at this point? I obey and find myself in underwear in front of him. I take off my top too. I hear a satisfied "Hm", muffled behind the mask.
He approaches and, with a movement of the hand, makes me spread my legs. He leans over and runs his fingers over the fabric. He kneels in front of me, grabs each side of my panties and pulls them down my legs. He plays the game, accentuating his head movements since I cannot see anything except his eyes. I hear him breathe behind the plastic. He seems to be as horny as I am. He admires the view between my thighs.
— I would lick you so well, he says, but for that I would have to remove the mask and I wouldn’t want to reveal my identity.
I feel like I'm in the best porn in the world. He is perfect.
— Put a finger then, or two...
My flesh is longing to feel his. Every second that passes is torture. I want to feel his weight on me, I want him to pound me like a vulgar doll, to hear him moan when he cums.
He pulls his thumb up inside me. He knows very well what he is doing. He shouldn't do too good of a job, I want to last a little bit more. Fortunately, he stops and gets up.
He is about to take off his pants but I stop him. He comes back to me. I pull down his zipper, sneak my hand in his boxers, grab his cock and pull it out of his pants. He takes a condom out of his pocket, opens it and unrolls it over his erection. I watch him do it, clearly experienced.
— Keep your pants, your boots, your mask. I want to fuck my fantasy.
He sneers behind the mask.
— As you please, miss.
He makes me get up, pops my bra. My nipples could cut glass.
— I want to see your breasts move.
— Well, let's everyone be happy.
He sits me down on the table and places one of my legs on the chair next to it. I can't wait any longer.
He approaches and puts the tip of his cock against me, teasing me for a second that feels like minutes. Feeling him about to enter my body turns me on so much I could scream. He pushes gently then goes in all the way, which makes me moan like I was deprived of sex for years.
There is a mirror behind the door and I can see some of the action. Watching his butt contracting in the effort while feeling the thrusts is unreal. I just hope he won't choke behind that mask, he's breathing so hard.
— I want you to cum in my ass, I say.
He stops short.
— Are you serious?
I do not need to beg him, I turn around, lean on the table and spread my legs. He continues to come and go inside me, while preparing my little hole with his fingers.
To feel someone introduce something there always turns me into a complete slut. I only offer my ass when it's deserved, or when I really want to get fucked hard.
He withdraws and puts his cock against me, entering slowly, and little by little, more rapidly.
I watch our reflection. This handsome fireman who comes and goes in my body to give himself some pleasure, whose head tilts back when it's too strong. I offer myself entirely to the living God. I want him to bless me from within. I pass my hand under my stomach to touch myself at the same time. He sees me doing it and lets out a "fuck!" which announces a near end. My fingers accelerate, following his rhythm. And suddenly he starts to moan, his thighs shake. My body sucks him dry and I feel like I'm receiving an award.
He slows down, until he comes to a complete stop. He takes off his mask to breathe better.
— Don’t move !
Still on his cloud, he complies with my request. I touch myself more energetically. Watching him in the mirror completely lost, feeling his cock in my body, his cum inside of me…Everything ... I'm leaving… My body eats him frantically. My brain is teeming. A state of utter wholeness sweeps over me as I moan my happiness on that old plywood table.
My body then relaxes and he waits, like a gentleman, for me to catch my breath to pull out.
Both satisfied, we return to the party as if nothing has ever happened.
I learn from Carrie the next day that Jerem had gotten engaged a month earlier, and that I had been, in a way, part of his bachelor party. I was extremely flattered.
© All rights reserved — MP Charlie - 5/4/2021
I'm going to translate the short stories I post on this site, little by little, since some of you would like to read them in English.