Coupling Two More Filthy Erotica for Couples

by Unknown

  “What did you dream last night?” she asked. She’d wanted to know all morning, but after their early a.m. romp, they’d both been in a haze of erotic bliss. Showers, dressing, driving here—the entire routine had all felt like a blur.

  “It was dirty,” Charles said, rotating his hips so that his cock seemed to hit places he’d never reached before. Jennifer groaned under her breath. She was having a difficult time not making noise—but she didn’t want to be too loud, didn’t want to be caught and forced to stop what they were doing. At least, not before she got off.

  “Tell me?”

  “I don’t think you’d want to do it.”

  He was taunting her. She looked at their reflection again. The look on his face was new to her. They’d always been equals in bed. He looked totally dom now. She’d never seen him sexier.

  “Tell me,” she begged.

  “I was fucking your pussy,” he said, “just like this.” He continued to work her as he talked. Jennifer’s pussy was wetter than she could ever remember. Her juices had made the tops of her thighs damp. Charles’ cock slid in and out with ease.

  “Then…” she prompted.

  “And then you said that you wanted something we’d never done before.”

  “What did I want?” she was begging.

  “I don’t think I should tell you.”

  She started to pull off him, her anger rising, and he grabbed her around the waist and thrust into her fiercely. He was showing her exactly who was in charge of this scenario, and her legs felt weak at the power in him.

  “Please?” she asked, trying a different tactic. “Please tell me.” She stared ahead at the painting on the wall. A little sailboat in a sea of blue. It was an ugly, dime-store painting, but she focused on the tiny whitecap waves in the picture, and tried to regain her sense of calm. What did you call that type of blue? Cerulean?

  “You told me that you wanted me to fuck your tight little virgin asshole.”

  “I said that?” she was panting, shutting out the picture by closing her eyes. Seeing a completely different image behind closed lids.

  “Yes,” he said, “you filthy little slut. You said, ‘Please, Chas. I’ll hold myself open for you. Put the head in and fuck my ass.’”

  They’d never done that before. She’d never spoken like she had in his dream. He’d never indicated that he even wanted to try anal.

  “Did I like it?”

  “I didn’t fuck your ass right away. I made you wait for the big event.”

  “Why?”

  “So you’d be really desperate.”

  “What did you do first?”

  “I took you in the bathroom and bent you over the edge of the tub. I spread shaving cream between your asscheeks and shaved you so you were completely clean back there. Then I showered you off and licked your back door until you were moaning the way you do when I eat your pussy.”

  “God,” Jennifer sighed. “Oh, fuck.”

  “You couldn’t get enough. You actually were parting your own cheeks for me so I could get in deeper.” Jennifer couldn’t believe he was talking to her like this. This went beyond anything they’d discussed or tried in bed. The kinkiest time they’d experienced so far had been a slightly tipsy evening in which Charles had blindfolded her with a scarf and eaten her out. But this…this was different.

  “What happened next?”

  “I got you on your back with your knees to your chest and I licked your asshole until you told me you were going to come. You were so wild, thrashing around on the mattress, unable to keep still. I actually thought I might have to tie you down to make you behave.”

  He was traveling in uncharted territory with every statement. They’d never considered bondage, never broached the topic. Jennifer felt as if she might melt into a puddle of lust. She was teetering on the brink of climax, so close, almost there.

  “What’d you do?” The words were a whisper.

  “I told you I was going to fuck your asshole.”

  “Uh huh.”

  “And that by the time I was done, I’d be fucking it as hard and fast as I do your pussy.”

  “Oh, God,” she sighed. “What did I do?”

  “You let me.”

  Her hand between her legs was working faster now, rubbing her clit as quickly as she could. Charles’ words were beyond foreplay. He was fucking her with his story.

  “I rolled you over on the mattress so you were ass-up. I had lube, and I oiled you so that you were nice and slick and wet. Then I gave you just the first inch of my cock, spreading open your hole so you could really feel the stretch.”

  “Did I like it?”

  “Oh, baby. You loved it. You told me to go slow at first, but pretty soon, you were backing down on my cock. You were fucking me.”

  She shivered. The scenario thrilled her. Who knew that she’d want something like that? Suddenly, she felt his hand between her cheeks. He was touching her hole, just touching it. She felt her pussy tighten.

  “I’m going to let you come now,” he said. “Just like this. And then we’re both going to call in sick and go back home. And I’m going to get out the lube and do to you exactly what I just described.”

  Jennifer came on his cock and on his words. She shivered as the pleasure worked through her, and she could feel Charles climaxing a second later. He pounded into her at a rapid pace, holding onto her hips as he filled her. She’d never felt as close to him as she did right then. They took a moment to separate, then each used the sink and mirror in an attempt to look presentable. Jennifer could not wait to get home. She was dying to do exactly what Charles had promised her.

  She exited the restroom first, heading out the door of the café to their car. Charles followed a moment later.

  As the couple left, the waitress watched after them. Wouldn’t it be nice if more people set down their devices and spoke face to face? Like those two professional people. They would make such a pretty couple if they ever put their computers and cell phones down long enough to connect.

  Performance Anxiety

  By Alison Tyler

  Josh said he wanted to watch me masturbate. I don’t think I’ve ever heard a man use that word before. The boys I’ve been with have always tended to say things like “jerk off” or “oil your oyster.” But not Josh. He possesses a serious, more clinical side, which I tend to like. He states his preferences in a no-nonsense way I can understand. And I’ll admit—I understood this. But that didn’t mean I could do what he was asking.

  “What’s the big deal?” he asked. “You’re on stage practically every night, Rae.”

  “I’m not jerking off on stage,” I said, mortified by the thought. The image came quickly to my mind: me in front of a crowd of fifty, parting my shaved pussy lips and stroking my clit while all those strangers watched.

  “I might like that,” Josh said, as if he could see deep into my fantasy. As if he were one of those in the crowd, watching every dancing move of my darting fingertips. I narrowed my eyes at him. Exactly where was he going with this? He’d asked to watch me masturbate. He had said nothing of crowd-sourcing his pleasure.

  “We’ll start small, babe, don’t worry,” he said to my look of trepidation.

  “We haven’t even established we’re starting at all,” I replied. He’d only asked. I hadn’t said I would. He was taking my hesitation for acquiescence. He ought to have known better. After four years of living together, Josh knows me inside and out. Well, almost. I guess what he was asking now was to see me at my most undressed.

  “You’re making a bigger deal of this than you should,” he said, “I’ve taken care of myself in front of you before.”

  “It’s not the same.” But as I said the words, I realized I didn’t know why. I’m not sexist by nature. Why wouldn’t it be the same for me to watch him as for him to watch me? I thought of the different times I’d witnessed him pleasuring himself in the past. The first time he ever jerked off in front of me was by accident. I had walked int
o the bathroom, knowing the water was on and assuming he was taking a shower. He was taking a shower. But he was also taking himself in hand under the hot spray. For a moment, he didn’t seem aware I was there, watching. Then he turned and wiped the steam from the shower door, so I could see more clearly. Ultimately, he’d shot against the glass door, and I’d almost lost my balance, so invested in the impromptu performance that I’d momentarily forgotten how to remain upright. I’d found watching him a complete turn-on, and by the time I’d stripped and joined him in the shower, he was hard once more and ready to take me against the cobalt-blue tiled wall.

  So why did I have a problem offering him the same type of show? Josh seemed to want to know. He looked at me curiously. “Is it because I’m a guy? And guys do dirty, naughty stuff like that but girls don’t.”

  I blushed when he said dirty and naughty. I think he knew I would. Not that I blush easily, but when he said the words, I thought of the times I’d caught him.

  “No,” I said, but I didn’t sound convincing. Not even to myself.

  “You’re all rose petals and candy fluff. Is that it? You never would dirty your fingers with your own sultry juices.”

  “I don’t think like that Josh. You know I don’t.” He’s seen me up on stage for so many years, has heard the type of hard-rocking songs I sing. If I were to describe myself, candy fluff would not fit into the write-up. We met after one of my shows. No groupie, Josh had been at the concert with two of his pals. He’d had the balls to hang out after to meet me. I’d been impressed with his confidence from the start. He’d discovered that the act I portray onstage—tough girl rock chick—is just that. An act. Off stage, I have a much shyer side that I show to few people. Josh found me out.

  “I know you masturbate, Rae.”

  Part of me wanted to ask him how he knew. And part of me wanted to tell him to stop using that stupid word. We could come up with a new term, a fresh term, something that didn’t sound so serious.

  “How do you know?” I finally asked.

  “Because I can tell. I know what you look like after you have an orgasm.”

  “Come,” I corrected him. “After I come.”

  “Yeah, right. Your cheeks take on this pretty flushed color, and your eyes are brighter, bigger somehow. Sometimes when I come—“ he hit the word hard and looked deviously at me—“home, I can tell that you’ve just been mastur…”

  “Playing with myself.”

  “Yeah, right,” he said. His foot touched mine in the bed. I liked that our toes were teasing each other.

  “I never knew you knew,” I said softly. I’d always thought that was something one took care of in private. That hungry, desperate need to get off. I’d never been in a relationship where this type of situation was discussed. You fuck your partner. You play with yourself. You don’t really talk about either in any great depth.

  “So how do you do it?” Josh asked, clearly not understanding my above rules, or choosing to ignore them.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Do you have a vibrator? Do you use your fingers? Do you do it in the shower?”

  I took a deep breath and rolled over on the mattress. He rolled me back over to face him. “You’re not going to hide from me. I want to know.”

  “I’ve got stage fright,” I told him.

  “You never have stage fright. You love being in front of an audience, singing all of those emo songs, dripping with personal facts.”

  “Not about my pussy.”

  He laughed. “Good. I don’t want you singing about your pussy on stage. I want you to tell me how you take care of yourself when nobody’s looking. And then I want to be the one looking. Can you do that for me?”

  I didn’t have an answer. Could I?

  The second time I’d found Josh stroking himself was in the bedroom. He didn’t stop when I opened the door. He stood there in front of me, hand moving piston fast on his rock-hard cock. Just like the time in the shower, I’d thought the scene was sexy. In fact, I’d been desperate for him to fuck me before he could make himself come, begging for him to stop wasting it on his palm and give his cock to me.

  “You liked watching, didn’t you?” he asked, trying a different tactic.

  “You know I did.”

  “You’ll like being the one watched. I promise. If you’re uncomfortable at any time, we can stop.”

  I nodded. “Okay. Let’s stop.”

  “We haven’t even started yet.”

  “And I’m uncomfortable.”

  “You’re not uncomfortable. You have performance anxiety.” He said the words as if he was reading them off a file.

  “How is that different from stage fright?”

  “You’re not exactly afraid. You’re more frozen. You need a little melting. I can help you. Start by telling me how you do it. Then show me.”

  “Okay.” But I didn’t. I lay there at his side and I didn’t say a word. Josh got up off the bed and went rummaging through the bottom drawer of my dresser. In moments, he had my vibrator. He’d known all along that I had one. I pushed up on my elbows to tell him to put my toy away, but he already was playing with the controls, holding the shaft in the palm of one hand and fiddling with the knob at the base.

  “Wow, that’s a powerful cock,” he said.

  I didn’t respond.

  “Maybe I should just guess how you do it, and you can tell me if I’m right or not.”

  I grabbed the vibrator from his hand and turned off the power. “I don’t have a way,” I said. “Not one way. I do different things.”

  “Like…”

  I went mute once more as if Josh had pressed a button on my internal remote control. Josh went to my closet and while I watched, he plucked my favorite stage dress from the assortment within. “Put this on.”

  “Josh…”

  “Put it on.”

  I stood and stripped, feeling him watching my every move. Then I slid into the champagne lace number and tossed my hair back. I was not about to admit this to Josh, but I found myself getting excited. I added thigh-high ripped stockings and my battered patent leather boots. My onstage look is fallen angel—pretty dress, destroyed accessories.

  “Now your makeup.”

  He knows my routine well from having watched me get ready for countless stage shows. I sat at my vanity and did my rock girl look—dark eggplant eye shadow, deep ruby lipstick, plenty of mascara.

  “Your lucky jewelry,” he prompted. I put the chain with the silver heart locket around my neck. “What else do you need?”

  “Nothing.”

  “That’s not true. You need to have a mind-blowing orgasm… I mean, you need to come while I watch.” He handed me the vibrator once more.

  “I need a drink,” I said.

  He left the room and I could hear him walking down the hall to the kitchen. In seconds, I heard the sound of a champagne cork popping. While he was out of eyesight, I stared at myself in the mirror. Could I do this? He wasn’t asking for much, wasn’t asking for anything he hadn’t done for me. Why was touching myself in front of my man so difficult? Because he’d see me—really see me—in my most base position. But he’d seen me climax before. This shouldn’t have been such a big deal. I had that entire conversation with myself in the mirror before Josh walked back into the room with a glass of champagne.

  “Cheers,” I said.

  “Bottoms up,” he responded.

  I could feel the heat between us. Maybe he would be happy if we just fucked. He always likes to do me in my stage clothes—especially right before I go out in front of a crowd. The thought that his wetness is still inside me, or slicking up the tops of my thighs, always makes him feel special. I took a sip and then kissed him. He let me, giving himself over to the kiss for a few moments before pushing away.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked.

  “You’re not going to get off that easy,” he said. “Show me.”

  I sat on the edge of the bed. I looked at the toy. I looked at J
osh. I pushed back until I was in my favorite position, head on the pillows, legs spread. Then I started to touch myself through my dress and my panties using the vibrator.

  “You start slowly, huh?” Josh asked.

  “This isn’t an audience participation show,” I snapped at him. He grinned back. I closed my eyes, blocking out his handsome face as I began to raise the dress to my hips so I could press the tip of the toy right against my clit through my panties.

  Josh’s eyes were on me. I could feel him. Suddenly, him watching didn’t seem like a bad thing. I arched my hips as I teased myself with the head of the vibrator. Then I turned the controls higher so the vibrations came at a stronger, more powerful pace. I was getting wetter by the second, but I didn’t take my panties down until the desire built inside of me. When I started to pull down my bikinis, Josh intervened.

  “Let me,” he said.

  I could have barked at him once more, but when I opened my eyes, he looked so aroused, I didn’t want to deny him. I allowed him to work my panties down my legs and over my boots. He spread my thighs open for me and got between my legs to watch close up as I brought the toy back in play. First, I danced the tip around my clit, and then I slowly inserted the rounded head into my pussy. Josh sighed as I began to fuck myself with the vibrator. I worked the base in my fist, gradually gaining speed as the climax grew closer. Right as I reached the cusp, Josh took the toy away from my hand, surprising me. Before I could muster a moan of protest, he began to fuck me with the vibrator, and as he did, he brought his mouth to the split of my body and licked my clit. I couldn’t believe how good that felt. He was fucking me hard and fast, and licking my clit at the same rapid pace.

  “Oh, fuck,” I groaned. “Oh, God, Josh, I’m going to come. I’m going to…”

  “Do it, baby. Come for me,” he demanded.

  “If you keep sucking me like that and fucking me like that…” He did as I asked, working the rod of the vibrator in and out of my pussy while locking his lips in a tight circle around my clit. I was out of my head with pleasure, but somehow I still managed to think—he’s watching me. I did it! I touched myself in front of Josh. I jerked off in front of my man. I succeeded in overcoming my performance anxiety!