Crawl in Bed with S.A. Garcia

S.A. Garcia

Crawling Into Bed With S.A. Garcia And a Good Book

Important things first, are these sheets silk or cotton?

S.A.: “These old Pirates of the Caribbean sheets are cheap cotton. They have just the correct wear factor. Yes, I have the soul of a five-year-old kid.”

What are you wearing?

S.A.: “Don’t be frightened, but nothing. Just like Ben Franklin, I believe in a good air bath. Trouble is I think Ben and I share a shape with the Michelin Tire Man.”

What are we snacking on in bed while we read tonight?

S.A.: “Hate to be boring, but I don’t snack in bed. I do my drinking before I crawl into bed. I read then pass out.”

If I open this nightstand drawer, what will I find?

S.A.: “That drawer? Let’s see: old birthday cards, coins, hair accessories I haven’t used in years, my old passport, broken sex toys— yeah, I know I should toss them out— too much weird stuff. I am a packrat. That weird slide over the thumb vibrator might still work with a watch battery. Put it back, sweetie. No stealing.”

Do you roll up in the blankets like a burrito, or kick the covers off during the night?

S.A.: “Cover kicker. I always wake up cold. Worse yet I am a mattress mover. Every night before I sleep, I need to shove my mattress back on the boxspring. That’s why I don’t sleep with my partner, well, that, the snoring and kicking. I’m like a sleep Ninja.”

Can I put my cold feet on your calves to warm them up?

S.A.: “As long as you like hairy.”

What are we reading?

Cupid Knows Best
By S.A. Garcia


When it comes to his professional life, photographer Carl Conrad is at the top of his game. He molds impressionable minds at university by day and jets off to Paris for gallery showings on long weekends. Unfortunately, he pays for it with his disastrous personal life: Carl kicked his boyfriend to the curb after one too many punches, so now it's just him and his hamsters, one of which he suspects may be a space alien.

Then Cupid takes pity on Carl and hits him where it hurts. It takes Carl all of three seconds to fall head over heels in lust with set design student Marcelino Moya, despite the man’s questionable—okay, deplorable—fashion sense. Convincing Marcelino to give him a chance is the hard part, but Carl is up for the challenge, pun definitely intended.

Marcelino plays hard to get, but he isn't immune to Carl's charms. Carl talks him around to dinner, dating, and eventually moving in. There's just one tiny word standing between Carl and perfect happiness. Why won't Marcelino say the “L” word?


I opened the door, slipped into the suite, and entered the bedroom.

Lust howled and stomped in manic pleasure. What a completely unexpected vision. Cupid had worked overtime tonight, although after last night’s confessions, the sight of the naked, gagged, and blindfolded Marcel kneeling on the floor, his wrists tied to the bedpost, struck an uneasy chord. Hell, why question the moment? If this was how Marcel wanted to play, what was wrong with the situation? High marks for the hand-tying stunt. Marcel must have knotted the T-shirt to the post and slid his hands up through the soft loop.

What did Marcel want me to do first? Enlightenment crawled through my shock. Removing the underwear gag sounded like a good first step. He needed to supply me with what he desired from his little fantasy. “Sir, are you injured?”

His voice emerged in breathless relief. “Officer, thank God you’re here! Those cruel fiends left me here for you to find. I’m innocent of any wrongdoing, I am.”

“I’ll be the judge of that issue, suspect. What is your name?”

“Marcelino Moya. Really, Officer, I am innocent! The dishonest miscreants kidnapped me and left me here as punishment.”

“Why did they kidnap you?”

“I threatened to tell the brave police about the gang’s nefarious diamond-smuggling scheme. Alas, tonight I feared the callous monsters meant to kill me. Instead they left me here to take the shameful blame for their immoral actions. Please, Officer, I am innocent of any foul play.” A brief smile quirked Marcel’s lips. He realized he needed to tone down his breathless drama and adjective use.

My lower lip suffered my teeth biting down to control my laughter. Removing the blindfold came next. Marcel rewarded me by blinking like a dazzled starlet preparing for her first big movie kiss. “Thank you, Officer, for rescuing me.”

“Let me free your wrists. Promise me you won’t make any sudden movements.”

“I promise.”

My fingers undid the loose knot. Marcel leaned forward. His arms wrapped around my thighs. “Thank you, Officer. Being trapped here alone frightened me. Now you save me from my woeful plight. How may I reward your bravery?” His lips nuzzled my cock.

“Please, Mr. Moya, I am on duty.”

“Please, Officer, I want to thank you.” Marcel slithered up my body in serpentine grace. His lips randomly attacked cloth until they clamped against my lips. “Let me thank you.”

“I really shouldn’t allow you to—”

“You need to loosen up, Officer. Relax.” Marcel’s body swayed against me. Capable fingers slid between us and worked until my belt and zipper opened. A quick tug removed the belt. Good thinking. A buckle slapping against his flesh might disrupt the pleasure. His teasing tickle stiffened my cock.

Marcel stepped back, his fingers still gently grasping my cock. “Come along, Officer.” Subtle tugs made my desire soar past the Eiffel’s top light.

My body followed his steps backward. Marcel released me, collapsed to the bed, and smiled in full sultry wattage. His fingers brandished our favorite warming lube. “Hurry, Officer, what if the base criminals change their minds and return?”

Wait, Marcel wanted me to love him while still dressed? Had I ever satisfied anyone in bed while clad in a restrictive suit? A few fast fully clothed encounters back in my first greedy days of discovering my sexuality flashed into my mind, but I had never enjoyed sex in a grand canopied bed while dressed in a suit.

My cock’s healthy salute said my love pole voted yes to everything.

I remembered to kick off my short leather boots.

My cock barely endured Marcel’s quick strokes. He rolled onto his stomach. His world-class ass waved hello at me. “Hurry, Officer!”

Fresh inspiration hit me. “First you need punishment for consorting with criminals.” My open palm connected against Marcel’s right ass cheek.

His delighted little gasp urged me to palm warm his left cheek. Three firm spanks against each cheek seemed perfect. Marcel reacted to the surprise punishment in gasping enthusiasm. His body twitched in delight.

The spanking left me oddly breathless in excitement. Interesting. The hilarious false urgency placed pressure on me to make love to my waiting suspect. Kneeling on the bed and spanning my thighs over Marcel’s waiting warmth made me fear for my suit trousers’ safety. The seams strained against my tense thigh muscles.

No matter. I needed to complete the scene. I grasped Marcel’s shoulders.

My cock slid into Marcel’s warm acceptance. He pushed back in his classic devouring manner. Damn, my clothing hampered my natural movement. I never imagined my favorite suit to feel like a straitjacket! Something planned to rip. I imagined the seams popping in fine Hulk transformation fashion.

Yeah, wait, the moment required extra spice. I gasped out a question. “Is this an evil plot to distract me from arresting you, suspect?”

“No, Officer, I want to thank you for saving me, remember?”

I ceased my strokes and rested my weight on Marcel. My palms slid around and squeezed Marcel’s pecs. I tugged his nipple chain. “You swear you speak the truth?” Ouch, my voice sounded damned winded.

“Yes, Officer, yes! Please hurry.” Marcel arched under me and squeezed his inner muscles.

Fuck. Boom, done, I came. How embarrassing. I sprawled atop my lover, gasping and groaning in pleasure.

Pleased little snickers greeted my orgasm. “Hmm, Officer, you need to give yourself a speeding ticket.”

“Be still, suspect.” Resting on his shifting vitality granted me the time to regain my breath. I slid my right fingers under his hips to defeat Marcel’s erection. Lovely to experience him shivering and grunting under me. During his orgasm, Marcel huffed like a boxer seeking the final knockout punch.

“Ahh, thank you, Officer.”


Thanks for reading!

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Facebook: Sandra Ann Garcia

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Be Yourself

To be nobody but yourself in a world which is doing its best, night and day, to make you everybody else means to fight the hardest battle which any human being can fight; and never stop fighting. ~e.e. cummings, 1955