Coupling Two More Filthy Erotica for Couples

by Unknown

  eXcessica publishing

  Coupling Two © November 2012 by Sommer Marsden

  All rights reserved under the International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or locales is entirely coincidental. All sexually active characters in this work are 18 years of age or older.

  This book is for sale to ADULT AUDIENCES ONLY. It contains substantial sexually explicit scenes and graphic language which may be considered offensive by some readers. Please store your files where they cannot be access by minors.

  Excessica LLC

  P.O. Box 127

  Alpena, MI 49707

  To order additional copies of this book, contact:

  books@excessica.com

  www.excessica.com

  Cover design © 2012 Willsin Rowe

  First Edition November 2012

  Warning: the unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in prison and a fine of $250,000.

  ABOUT COUPLING TWO

  In Coupling Two, we're here again to explore more of the joys, pleasures and flat out kinks of being part of a couple. Four of today's hottest erotica authors explore what coupling means to them. Selena Kitt, Alison Tyler, Willsin Rowe and Sommer Marsden put the Mm... in commitment. Join us for some titillating, tender and downright dirty moments. From the most intimate kind of stress release, to a sizzling anniversary celebration, foreplay of the voyeuristic kind and a much needed union after a dangerous situation, join us in Coupling Two to get a taste of something a bit sweet, a bit spicy and a lot sexy.

  Table of Contents

  Introduction

  Part I: Selena Kitt

  The Flintstone Experiment

  Cat Lover

  The Dirty Show

  Part II: Alison Tyler

  Connecting

  Performance Anxiety

  Reunion

  Part III: Willsin Rowe

  Midge

  Her Majesty

  This, I Can Do

  PartI IV: Sommer Marsden

  Rug Burns

  In the Line of Duty

  Evil Streak

  About the Authors

  More from Excessica

  Introduction

  I’m going to keep this introduction short and sweet. I love couples. I love couples who stay in love, stay hot…couples where that spark—that indescribable something—is visible to anyone observing them.

  Once upon a time I did a short little book called Coupling. I gathered some of my favorite writers and I asked them to write about couples. How being one half of a whole can stay intense and sexy and amazing for years and years. I thought we’d sell a few copies…

  Years later that book is still selling strong. It’s ranked more times than I can count and then when I think it’s lost steam, it ranks again! I’ve never been more tickled pink by a ‘little book that could’ than I have been with Coupling.

  Now I’m back, with three other writers, to give you some more on couples. Whether they’re married, or just committed to each other, or in the case of one of Willsin Rowe’s couples, they don’t even really know they’re a couple, until they do.

  There’s also a couple in one of Selena’s Kitt’s tales that are so much of a concrete, secure and, yes—hot couple, that they celebrate their anniversary in a jaw dropping way. My favorite Alison Tyler couple has a very interesting form of foreplay that had me squirming in my seat. And I’d be a liar if I didn’t admit that out of my three stories, I adored my couple that had an intense evening after a knee-shaking event.

  All the couples in this book represent the best of being one half of a whole. It’s not always easy, it’s not always sexy, it’s not even always fun, but when it comes right down to it, between the sheets, nothing in the world beats being with someone who knows you almost as well as yourself. And will do anything to take you where you need to go—wherever that might be.

  We have a few new writers, a brand new set up, but the same message. Commitment and knowledge of your partner can be the most enticing turn ons of all. Enjoy. I think you’ll find something in here for everyone.

  XOXO

  Sommer

  November 2, 2012

  Part I

  Selena Kitt

  I've been married twice. The first time I was very young and in the kind of dramatic sort of angsty teenage love people make fun of—think Twilight, minus the sparkly vampires. Amazingly, that marriage lasted eight years, probably because we had two children together, and it only ended because one of us grew up. (Guess which one?)

  So I'm now on my second marriage, and twelve years, four houses, two living children and one tragic late-term stillbirth and a medical bankruptcy later, we are still going strong. We've obviously had our obstacles (the above, I'm afraid, is just a short list!) but we are very much in love and committed to our relationship.

  Couples, when they come together, invariably create a "we," or an "us." This is a third thing in every relationship that must be honored, or it will collapse. Like a stool with two legs, without the third, nothing will balance. So while we think of couples as a twosome, there is really always an unseen third between them—the relationship itself. And of course, it’s no accident that each author here has included three stories of coupling to share!

  The three tales I've chosen have one thing in common—no one is giving up on their commitment, on the "us," no matter the circumstances or desires or needs of the two. In Cat Lover, we have a brand new couple whose lives change in a sudden, drastic way, but neither of them are willing to give up on their love. In The Flintstone Experiment, a married pair discover that not paying attention to that “third,” their relationship, can have serious consequences—boredom, anger, and resentment, to name a just a few—but in the end, they come to know how easy it is to turn back toward it instead of away from it, and make it come alive again. And lastly, in The Dirty Show, those of you familiar with my Baumgartner series will recognize Janie and Josh, although now we are ten years into their marriage, and these two sexually experimental individuals have found a way to honor their desires while still maintaining their loving commitment to each other, giving a whole new meaning to the word monogamy.

  In the end, the key to "Coupling," in whatever form it takes, no matter your age, culture, sexual orientation, or even your species—swans, wolves, eagles, and even the far-traveling albatross are known to mate for life—is honoring the “we” that is created on the day you say “yes” to the relationship. In a world where everything seems transient and disposable, we often treat human beings and our relationships that way, much to our species’ detriment.

  If nothing else, the one thing we learn in relationship when we’re willing to open ourselves up to another and, in many ways, let our egos dissolve into a broader, expansive “we” instead of staying confined in the illusory safety of an “I,” is that life, circumstances, and pain are just temporary conditions, but love—love is forever.

  And it really does conquer all.

  The Flintstone Experiment

  By Selena Kitt

  If this didn’t work, Laura knew she was going
to leave him. She sat, making herself even smaller in the narrow space of an airplane seat, looking out at the clearest water she had ever seen as they made their approach. It wasn’t anything like the small Midwestern town where she grew up. She should have been excited, but it was fear she felt curled up in a ball in the pit of her belly, and she put her hand there, as if rubbing it could make it go away.

  “Are you cold?” Rick leaned over and tucked the blue blanket around her thighs. She smiled at him, not saying anything as she turned back to the window. As they neared the island, she could make out the coastline. She leaned over and started packing things back into her carry-on—her Kindle, a pair of headphones, the uneaten bag of peanuts.

  “Here.” She handed their tickets to him. “We’d better start getting ready.”

  Rick took the tickets and stared at them for a moment. “Maybe you should keep them? In your purse?”

  Laura sighed, took them back and tucked them neatly into her handbag. “Do you even know the name of the place we’re staying?”

  He shrugged, putting the Nintendo 3DS game he’d been playing into his carry-on bag. “You’re the one who planned this whole thing.”

  “Yeah.” Laura sighed again, curling toward the window and watching the ground swell, as if it were rising to meet them. They were over land completely now, and she had a brief desire to be swallowed up by it. A crash wouldn’t be like that, of course, but that was the image—the plane just continuing its descent, plunging into the earth below until just its tail emerged and the passengers inside were all buried alive.

  What’s the difference? I feel buried alive now.

  The dry, stale air of the plane made her feel like she was suffocating.

  “Are you all right?” Rick touched her shoulder.

  She gave him another half-hearted smile. “I’m fine… Just fine.”

  * * * *

  “This guy is an asshole,” Rick reiterated, swallowing his orange juice in three huge gulps and signaling the waitress.

  Laura pierced a grape in her fruit dish with her fork, watching him spread butter on his toast. Then it was on to the jelly. He ordered another orange juice, and she watched him squirt ketchup onto his ten dollar omelet. Lunch and dinner main courses were included in their retreat package, but breakfast and any extras were on their own.

  “You know, orange juice is three dollars.” She crushed the grape between her teeth and made it squirt into her mouth. It was a bitter one, and she thought that was just about right. “Each.”

  “So?” Rick shrugged, smiling at the waitress and thanking her when she set the juice in front of him. “We’re on vacation right? Why shouldn’t we have what we want?”

  “Do you need anything else?” The waitress smiled at Rick. She was a tall girl, with short, stylish blonde hair tucked behind her ears. Laura grimaced at the girl’s clothes—a colorful blue sarong that matched her eyes, and a solid blue bikini top that barely contained the flesh spilling out of it. Clearly island-wear, and Rick was admiring it, while trying to look like he wasn’t.

  “Could you possibly bring me a lemon wedge?” He held up his water glass, as if that explained his request.

  “Sure.” The accommodating blonde reached for Laura’s empty plate. She had been through her egg-white omelet before Rick had even started eating and she was slowly working through her small fruit bowl.

  Laura looked over the railing and down at the beach—clear water, like blue glass, with a white sandy edge that looked as if it belonged on a postcard. Probably was, somewhere downstairs in the gift shop, with the words “Welcome to Elysium!” on the front. She felt far from paradise.

  “So why is he an asshole?” Laura pierced a piece of cantaloupe.

  Rick, pouring syrup over his pecan pancakes, answered through a mouth full of eggs. “Because he is. I’m surprised you like him. He wants to send women back to the stone age. Is that what you want? You wanna be my Wilma? So I can be your Fred?”

  She thought about the facilitator who had started the workshop last night. He wasn’t an exceptionally good-looking man—balding and rather scrawny—but there was something about him. When he looked at her, she felt like she was being seen into, seen through.

  “It doesn’t have to be the Flintstones.” She sipped her water. “And yes… if men who live that way are like the guy who lectured last night… it is what I want.”

  “Thanks.” Rick smiled at the waitress as she set a plate of lemon wedges next to his glass.

  The blonde smiled back. “No problem—I’ll take this up when you’re ready.” The waitress slipped the leather case containing the bill in front of Laura, who looked at it with her lips pursed.

  “I thought this was what feminism tried so hard to fight against?” Rick squeezed lemon into his water. “Men in control, women being subservient. You really want to be subservient to me?”

  She sighed and pushed her chair back from the table. “I have to pee.”

  Rick signaled the waitress again as Laura made her way to the bathroom. She closed the stall door and swallowed a scream. Her face felt hot and dry, her throat constricted—her whole body felt like one big clenched muscle. How could he not understand what it was that she wanted from him? How could he be so blind?

  When she left the stall, she washed her hands, glancing at her reflection in the mirror as she held them under a dryer. The air blew her long dark hair over her shoulders. There were two rosy spots on her cheeks, the glow that always crept in whenever she was angry or upset. Straightening her blouse and tucking it into the waistband of her long flowered skirt, she wondered if this was just as good as it ever got. Maybe it was.

  The check was still sitting there at the table, untouched. Rick used his last sausage to clean the syrup from his plate, smiling up at her and winking. On a whim, she pulled her chair around and sat next to him, her thigh rubbing up against his under the table.

  “Hey, there’s my girl.” He put his arm around her and leaned back with a little groan, his hand covering his belly. “That was a good breakfast. You ready for another day in Bedrock? Maybe the Great Gazoo will be able to help us, huh?”

  Laura laughed in spite of herself, letting her body relax against his side. Maybe good enough just was—good enough.

  * * * *

  “Why are you here?” The question stopped Laura, and she felt herself recoiling from it. She stared into the dark, penetrating gaze of the facilitator, who Rick called “The Great Gazoo,”—when he wasn’t calling him an asshole—and found she couldn’t keep the truth from him, as much as her rational mind tried to stop her.

  Not in front of all these people! What are you thinking?

  “My husband doesn’t know this…” She glanced guiltily over at Rick. “But I told myself that if this workshop didn’t change things between us, I was going to leave.”

  “So is this your ultimatum?” Gazoo asked. Laura couldn’t help thinking of him as Gazoo now—especially since they had to choose “fake names” for themselves, and Rick had dubbed them “Wilma” and “Fred.”

  “The Great Gazoo” looked down at Rick. Laura felt the eyes of the entire room on them—a thousand people, all watching.

  “I guess.” Laura shrugged, talking into the cordless microphone he had given her. “I just don’t know how to get him to change. I try—I’ve tried giving him things to do, putting him in charge of things around the house…”

  “Whoa!” Gazoo’s eyes brightened and he held his hand up to stop her, looking at Rick and raising his eyebrows. “Is that true? Has she put you in charge of things around the house?”

  “Uh…” Rick’s gaze slanted toward his wife as Gazoo gave him the microphone. “Yeah. I guess. I was in charge of the bills for a while—but then she took it all back.”

  “Well, after four hundred dollars in bounced check fees…” Laura started, but stopped when Gazoo held up his hand again.

  “Does she ever tell you how she’s feeling?” he asked Rick. “Does she ever express her
emotion spontaneously in the moment? The feminine is like water—she flows, all the time. One minute, she’s up, the next she’s down. She’s all over the place. Does that describe your wife?”

  Rick swallowed. “Uh… no.”

  “You don’t trust this man.” Gazoo turned back to her and Laura winced.

  “Yes, I do.” She protesting, putting her hand on Rick’s arm. “Of course I do! He’s my husband.”

  “You say you do.” Gazoo shook his head. “Look, you say you want him to be the masculine energy in your relationship, yes? You’re tired of being the one in charge, and you want to be able to relax into your feminine flow right? Isn’t that why you’re here?”

  Laura nodded, in spite of the fact she didn’t like the way this sounded.

  “But how can you expect a man to take charge, to be your direction and guidance, if you don’t trust him to lead you?”

  Laura shook her head, but she had tears in her eyes.

  “I have a practice for you, if you’re willing to do it.”

  “A practice?” Rick sounded unsure.

  “For the next twenty-four hours,” Gazoo went on. “I don’t want your wife to do anything without your guidance and direction. And I mean anything. She can’t even pee without you anticipating what she needs and wants.”

  Laura’s eyes widened. “Can I talk?”

  “You can talk if he says you can,” Gazoo replied. “But I suggest a non-verbal practice. So, if you can’t talk, how are you going to tell him what you need or want?”

  Laura bit her lip, her gaze falling to the auditorium floor.

  “Do you think you can do that?” he asked them. Laura and Rick looked at each other, doubtful. “Let me just get a show of hands. Who else thinks that this is a good practice for these two?”

  Laura stared around in wonder as a thousand hands shot into the air. She didn’t like the idea—it scared the hell out of her—but she had told herself that she would do anything to change things between them. Was she willing?