One Night Only

by Violet Blue

  “Wow,” said Wendy, from the other side of the couch. “I guess you learned to flirt.”

  Wendy had been there the whole time, had probably heard it all and I didn’t care. It was dark and I was crazy and relieved to be crazy and warm and dark and muddy and not cool in my tower anymore. I wasn’t going to speak and ruin the quiet. I liked the craziness and the almost not knowing who it was. I still gripped Josh’s arm and held it down so he wouldn’t shy away now and remove his hand from inside my cunt, for just a few minutes more. It wasn’t ownership and I hadn’t lowered myself. It was the most natural thing in the world.

  I reached down and touched Josh’s erection. Even through his jeans, I could feel it pulsing, throbbing his heartbeat into my hand. I breathed my approval of his wonderful cock, a sigh, and he breathed back. His hard-on was standing straight up so the head was against his stomach and sticking out from under the waistline of his pants. I undid the button and zipped the zipper down. The release of his cock into the air, made the springs of that old couch sing. I took hold of his cock and slid my hand up and down, stroking its wonderful combination of soft silk and hard iron. I wanted to fuck him and suck him but thought, No, not yet, and decided in the quiet darkness of that basement a dreamy hand job with both of us staying just like we were, breathing with each other, wouldn’t break the spell.

  WHORE

  D. L. King

  The dress was red: red with a subdued intensity, a deep, wet sort of red. A red that slithered behind your eyes and rubbed up against your hypothalamus. Just seeing it on the rack caused an involuntary shiver, a contraction of my pelvic floor muscles, and made my pupils dilate. Seeing the price tag almost dissuaded me from trying it on. Almost.

  It fit like it was made by my own private couturier.

  The fabric was soft, with a slight nap to the hand. It draped beautifully. The dress had a high boatneck, brushing just over the top of my clavicle, but with a fitted bodice. Not too tight, just enough to enhance my small breasts and cling gently to the curve my body made from torso to waist. Long, fitted sleeves and a slight flare from the hips, ending just below my knee, completed the picture, or at least, the front of the picture. Simple and elegant.

  Gazing at my reflection in the three-way mirror in the fitting room at Saks, the physical responses I had upon seeing the dress on the rack multiplied exponentially. In the back, the dress fell from the shoulder seams in a deep V to just above—and I do mean just above—the crack of my ass. I couldn’t stop looking at the way it seemed to attach itself to my sides, following the curve in at my waist and then the beginning of the curve back out at my hips.

  I turned and turned. I moved my arms and twisted my body. What made it stay glued to me the way it did? I guess you get what you pay for.

  I have no idea what possessed me to bring it to the conference. What use would I have for a dress like that at a conference with a bunch of neurologists and neurosurgeons? But after three days of panels and presentations, and then finally presenting my paper, at the tail end of the last day, to a three-quarters-empty room of mostly men, checking their watches to make sure they didn’t miss their airport shuttle, I’d had enough.

  Knowing my presentation would be one of the last, I’d decided to take an extra night at the hotel and return home the next day, which was a good thing because I really needed a break after the last attendee thanked me for my presentation and practically ran out the door. It was only three o’clock, a little early for cocktails, so I decided to have a swim in the hotel pool and relax before dinner.

  Like I said, I don’t know why I brought the dress, but I do know why I put it on that night. Once rejuvenated from swimming and a nap, I realized I’d exhausted all my conference wear and I didn’t think jeans and a T-shirt would cut it in the hotel’s restaurant. The dress felt unbelievably sexy and I found myself being extra attentive to my makeup. I clipped my hair up in a sort of messy combination bun-ponytail, to get it off my neck. I didn’t want my hair to break the expanse of bare skin from neck to ass. I remembered reading somewhere that Japanese women wore their kimonos with the neck dipping down in back because Japanese men found the back of a woman’s neck sexually stimulating. Looking at the drape of the dress, I had to agree with them.

  I made my way down to the hotel bar. I love beautifully appointed boutique hotels and this one, in Los Angeles, was no exception. The bar was beautifully designed in rich browns, platinum and gold and the low tables and upholstered furniture looked comfortable and inviting. A few of the tables had groups of people gathered round them, but I never felt that comfortable sitting at a table when I was alone, so I chose a seat at the bar and ordered a pomegranate martini.

  The drink was perfect. I soon became lost in thoughts about one of the presentations on electrical implants and nerve pain. I raised my glass to the bartender and he nodded. As he was putting my new drink down, someone took the stool next to me.

  “I’ve got it,” a masculine voice said.

  I’d guess he was about fifty, with hair graying at his temples. He wore a very expensive-looking suit and red tie. His nails were manicured. I looked from his hands to his face and he smiled.

  “Thank you. Were you here for the medical conference?” He didn’t look familiar, but there had been quite a few people there.

  “No, I’m with the financial conference. I manage a hedge fund.”

  As I’d never completely understood what that was about, I asked him what he did and we spent the next half hour discussing money, finance and his life. The conversation was interesting and intelligent and, although he was older than the guys I was usually interested in, he was dead sexy. So, when he put his hand on my back and slid it down to the top of the dress and asked if I’d like to join him in his room, I didn’t have to think too hard. I probably should have opted for dinner, but after two and a half martinis, my lizard brain was more interested in the meat in his pants than the meat in the restaurant.

  His hand never lost contact with the small of my back as he escorted me to the elevators. His thumb continually stroked the hollow just above my ass. On the way to the thirty-fourth floor, I looked him over more closely. Maybe it was the alcohol, but I couldn’t wait to see what he was hiding under those very expensive clothes.

  His room was about ten floors higher than mine and had a better view. I went to the window to look out and he followed me. He bent down and kissed the back of my neck. His hands stroked my sides, over the dress before sliding inside.

  “You are gorgeous,” he said, hands exploring under the sides of the dress, up past the swell of my breasts and back down to my ass. He placed my hands on the window and reached down under the hem of the dress to slide it up in back. His breath caught as he ran them up my naked ass. “I don’t suppose this dress is well suited to wearing panties, is it?” he asked.

  I turned around and began to undo his tie and he caught my hands. “We have plenty of time for that,” he said, sliding my dress up and over my head. Once off, he turned it right side out and draped it over the desk chair before taking a step back to look at me. All I had on were my shoes.

  “Do you like the view?” he asked.

  “Yes, I do. It’s much...” His lips covered mine before I could complete the statement and his tongue parted them to explore my own. He tasted of very fine scotch, with a slight hint of expensive cigar. My hands reached up to explore his chest and he spun me around, facing the glass again.

  “I like it too,” he said.

  Again, he placed my hands above my head and against the glass as his own stroked and kneaded my breasts before pinching and pulling at my nipples. My clit was buzzing and I could feel moisture begin seeping from my pussy as his hands stroked lower, over my ribs, down to the V of my sex. He ran his hands over the crease between my legs and my cunt.

  “Spread your legs.”

  As I did, his hands snaked around to stroke the crack of my ass before pulling my cheeks apart. I could feel his hard cock, under his trousers, as
he pressed against me. Keeping my backside open with one hand, he cupped and squeezed my pussy with the other before inserting two fingers inside my slit and spreading my lips open.

  “Oh, god,” I moaned as I was left open, front and rear. “Please,” I murmured.

  “Look at the view. I’m told you can see Catalina from here, if it’s a clear day. Although I don’t really know where it is. Maybe you can see it now. Are there lights on Catalina?”

  I felt his thumb pressing against my anus and an involuntary shiver shook my head.

  “No?”

  “I don’t know,” I whispered. I pushed back against his hand, but he moved with me.

  “Now, now. Don’t get so anxious. There’ll be plenty of time for that later.”

  I could feel my moisture coating the fingers pulling my cunt lips apart. “Please,” I murmured again, rocking my hips from side to side.

  “You’re so wet.” He closed his fingers and rubbed them against my opening. “Is this what you want? Feel how they slide.” He teased my opening with the tip of one of the fingers, still keeping my lips parted with the other.

  I thought I’d go crazy with desire. I’d never experienced anything quite like it before. I’m no stranger to sex; I’m a very carnal person. But this guy was directing sensations I’d never experienced before. He stopped teasing my opening and again pushed my lips apart with both fingers. He pushed the edge of his other hand deeper, splitting my buttocks even more. This time, I responded with a full body shiver.

  “Lovely,” he said. “Now, spread your legs farther and press your tits against the glass. Yes, that’s right.” He withdrew his hands and I must have made a noise because he said, “Don’t worry, I’ll be back. I just need to get something from the bathroom. Look for Catalina and tell me if you see it.”

  I fogged up the glass, panting through my open mouth. All sorts of thoughts went through my head but moving from the position he’d placed me in wasn’t one of them. I saw what I was fairly certain was the Santa Monica Pier, but I still had no idea where Catalina was, or if it could be seen from here. I was just beginning to realize how inane that thought was when I felt his hand on my waist and the other rubbing between my legs.

  “Did you find it?” My head shook back and forth jerkily while I felt my muscles begin to tighten pre-orgasmically. “So responsive,” he whispered against my neck as he buried a finger in my pussy and stroked my clit with his thumb.

  My orgasm was mind numbing in the way all little orgasms are when what you really want is a fully body release.

  “Just to take the edge off a little bit,” he said. He backed up and told me to turn around.

  Slightly dizzy, I faced him. He was removing his tie and unbuttoning his shirt. He had a thick thatch of salt-and-pepper hair on his chest and it was easy to see that he worked out. He had a tighter chest and abdomen than the last thirty-year-old I fucked. He opened his belt and pants and removed them, along with a pair of red silk boxers, as I watched. His cock was both thick and fairly long and my mouth watered at the thought of having him inside me but first I wanted to taste him.

  Silently, I knelt down in front of him and gently stroked his shaft, feeling the weight of his balls. As my lips enclosed the head of his cock I could feel all the air leave his lungs. He was warm and hard and velvety. He smelled of soap and maleness and as I tongued him, all the air left my lungs, too. I massaged his balls as I took more and more of him inside my mouth. He was too big for me to get him all the way in, so I licked and sucked up and down his shaft, paying special attention to the crown.

  His hands were on my head, massaging my scalp and hair, and as I drove the tip of my tongue into the slit of his cock I could feel his balls begin to tighten. He grabbed a handful of hair and pulled my head away from his body. I strained to get his cock back into my mouth before I realized what had happened.

  “Not yet,” he said. “I want to come inside you, not in your mouth.”

  “Condoms,” I whispered.

  “Yes, of course. Only a figure of speech, my dear,” he said. He helped me up and we walked to the bed. He pulled off the blanket and bedspread, letting them fall on the floor, and picked me up, placing me in the center of the great king-sized bed. I noticed his dopp kit on the bed table. He removed a couple of condoms and a travel-sized bottle of lube. “May I fuck your ass?”

  I love anal, more I think than vaginal sex, so I smiled and said yes.

  “You’re sure?”

  “Oh, yes,” I said, drawing him to me for a kiss.

  He positioned me on my hands and knees on the bed and, with one hand on my back holding me in place, he drew his other hand down my ass, gently teasing the crack. He repeated the motion several times before withdrawing his hand. “Your body is amazing,” he said.

  It’s nice to be worshiped, and I basked in the sensation of his eyes on me until I felt cold lube dripping into my crack. His finger spread it around and began to tease me open, slowly and gently. He knew what he was doing. He was both sensuous and gentle.

  “I love your ass,” he said, and he inserted first one finger, then a second into me, slowly fucking me with his hand. “I can’t wait to feel that tight muscle gripping me.” He added more lube and kept up the gentle finger-fucking. He slipped a third finger in me and I moaned. “All right?” he asked.

  “Slower, please. Just give me a minute to catch up,” I panted.

  He stopped fucking me and held his fingers in place. When my breathing slowed, he began his slow in-and-out motion again. I hadn’t felt this full in a long time and I was eager to feel his cock in me. My clit felt heavy and swollen but I kept my hands on the bed. I wanted to wait for his cock before touching myself.

  He withdrew his fingers and I felt completely empty. I whined and he said, “I think you’re ready for me now.” I heard him tear the condom wrapper and seconds later I felt the tip of his cock pressed against my anus and more lube drizzled over me.

  He pressed slowly and steadily against me until my sphincter began to allow the entrance. He was an accomplished ass-fucker. He took his time. It was minutes before he was seated fully inside me and I felt his balls against my vulva. I tightened my muscles against him and I felt, more than heard, him chuckle. He hung there, without moving, letting me get fully used to the pressure. I wanted desperately to touch myself but I waited.

  “All right?” he asked.

  “Oh, yes,” I sighed and he withdrew, only to slowly push back inside. Each time he withdrew a little more and pushed back in a little faster until I was moaning, pushing back against him, fucking myself on his cock faster and harder.

  I started to lower my head to the bed so I could take my weight on my chest and shoulders to free my hands but he told me not to move. He’d been keeping me steady, using my hips as handles. He slid one of his hands around me and stroked my cunt, only to find me dripping.

  “You’re one wet little slut, aren’t you?” he said as he buried two fingers inside my vagina and assumed the same rhythm he was using to fuck my ass. “I can feel myself fucking you.”

  My god, my muscles were convulsing wildly around both his cock and his fingers. I tried to get my hand on myself but he said, no, not to do it. “You want to come?” he asked.

  A low, guttural, “Yes,” spewed from my throat.

  “Well, you can’t. Not yet.”

  I growled and pounded against his body, his balls slapping against my flesh.

  “I control this fuck and I’m not ready to come yet.” His rhythm changed, became more syncopated, but his fingers stilled. He used his thumb to circle my clit without touching it until I screamed. “Oh, the poor little slut’s getting frustrated.” He withdrew his hand altogether and slapped my ass. I jumped and my muscles tightened against him again. “Oh, yeah,” he laughed.

  His rhythm built back up to a steady pounding again and he slid a finger inside me one more time. This time, instead of fucking me with it, he began to stroke the ridge just inside my opening. His stro
kes became harder and harder until I was panting and whining. He was still actively fucking my ass, but the pressure on my G-spot was quickly bringing me to orgasm. Before I could even say, “I’m gonna come,” I was squirting fluid into his hand, something I’d never done before.

  “Good girl,” he said. “That’s the way.”

  His hand slowed and withdrew but his pounding cock never faltered. After my initial tremors slowed, his rhythm picked up until it began to break up and become erratic, with more strength behind each thrust, as if he were trying to force his entire body into me, and with a few more thrusts, he came.

  He grew still inside me and I felt his last few contractions as his orgasm finished. We stayed like that for a bit before he slowly withdrew to my groans of complaint. We rolled away from each other, sweating and panting, giving our heart rates a chance to slow down.

  “Jesus,” I said.

  “You’re not so bad, yourself,” he laughed.

  “Fuck. I never did that before. I never ejaculated before. Jesus.” Once the sweat dried, I went to the bathroom to clean up. By the time I dressed and came back into the room, he’d put his pants and shirt back on. It seemed our tryst was over.

  “May I have your card?” he asked. “Perhaps the next time I’m in town, I’ll call you.”

  I was at the door. “Oh, I don’t live here,” I said, digging a card out of my bag. As I handed it to him, he handed me something in return. I gave him a quick kiss. “Thanks, it was fun,” I said.

  He closed the door behind me and as I walked to the elevator I looked at what he’d handed me. It was money. Two five-hundred-dollar bills, to be exact. I laughed all the way down to my floor. While waiting for room service to bring my dinner I wondered what he’d thought when he read my card: