The Mammoth Book of Erotic Stories

by Barbara Cardy

  “It’s obvious from those pictures, that this is exactly what you wanted to happen. Strip, and be quick about it.”

  Nathan almost came in his pants. How did she know? Was he that easy to read? “Ms Harden, you can’t mean it,” he croaked.

  “I assure you, Mr Steele, I mean every word. If you don’t do exactly what I tell you, I’ll be making two phone calls: one to my lawyer, and one to the police. If that happens, I’m sure you’ll be speaking to the police shortly thereafter. You’ll also be looking for a new job, that is, if you’re not in prison.”

  Defeated, excited beyond words, he placed the notepad on her desk. His hand trembled as if he had palsy. Rising to his feet, knees knocking, he reached for his shirt. His hands shook so badly, one of the buttons flew off while he fought to unbutton it. Letting it fall to the floor, he bent down and pulled his shoes and socks off, pushed his socks into the shoes then tucked them under his chair. On wobbly legs, he stood and unfastened his belt. The button and zipper fought his fingers, but he finally won. His erection made taking his pants off more than a little difficult, but he persevered and finally managed it. A moment later, he stood self-consciously before his boss in just his black bikini underpants. Massively tented underpants.

  He stopped, embarrassed, afraid. Cupping his hands in front of his crotch, he looked at her, but quickly dropped his eyes, unable to meet her steady gaze. His cock throbbed against his hands. He knew he was leaking pre-come, and that there would be a wet spot on the front of his briefs.

  “What are you waiting for?” Leaning back in her chair, she smiled at him, again, enjoying his discomfort. “I said strip, not stand there in your shorts. Get ’em off, now!”

  He closed his eyes, took a deep breath and slipped his fingers into the waistband. He held that pose, breathless, excited, terrified. Even if he did it, she could still have him charged. Taking a deep, shuddering breath, he pushed them down, carefully hiding his condition. When he stood up straight again, he was naked and trembling. He’d managed to hide most of his privates, but not completely, and his face got even warmer when her gaze centered there.

  “Drop your hands; no, better yet, put them behind your head.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he croaked, and lifted his hands away. His cock sprang upward, slapping his belly in its eagerness to be free.

  Rebecca smiled, but made no comment. She reached up and unfastened the tiny pearl buttons at the throat of her blouse, and then the next. Her fingers were like a magnet. He couldn’t take his eyes off them as she slipped the buttons free, slowly revealing her upper body to him. She wore no bra; none was necessary. Her breasts, though ample, were firm and perched high on her chest, the tawny-brown nipples, succulently erect. Pushing herself to her feet, she took his notepad and came to the front of the desk. Then, while he stood trembling and naked, she leaned over her desk, her bottom pointed in his direction, and drew up a contract, quickly, easily.

  As she wrote, she spoke. “From now on you’ll arrive an hour early, every day. You’ll be waiting for me here, naked and on your knees. Hands behind your head, just like they are now, your knees spread as wide apart as you can get them.” She turned her face to him and, with the tip of one finger, tapped his erection. It slapped his belly on the rebound, and she laughed. Raising her eyes to his face, she continued, “If I’m not pleased with your posture, I’ll punish you. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Nathan replied. His heart felt as if it was going to explode. She was in total control; his fantasy was being forced on him.

  “Good, now clear off my desk – carefully.” She waited while he stacked and moved the scattered papers, folders and envelopes onto the coffee table at the side of the room. Every step reminded him of how excited he was at being naked in front of her. The muscles in his thighs tensed, his testicles shifted and rubbed against his inner thighs, and his cock bobbed in front of him or slapped his thigh. He didn’t try to hide it, he didn’t dare. When he finished, he stood beside the table, unsure of what to do. After a few moments of thought, he returned to his place in front of her desk and raised his hands, clasping them behind his neck.

  She paced around him, not touching, which would have been a relief. It felt more like she was assessing him. He sucked in his belly and squared his shoulders.

  She stopped beside her desk and, after a quick sharp nod, said, “For trespassing into my personal things, you’ll receive as many strokes as I please.” She retrieved his belt and, while he watched, she doubled it and swung it against her hand. “Bend over the desk, hold on to the front and spread your feet wide apart. If you move or cry out, someone’s likely to hear you and come to investigate.”

  His heart skipped a beat. He’d die of shame if someone saw him, he was sure. “Yes, ma’am,” he whispered. Leaning forward, he draped himself across her desk, his erection trapped beneath him. When he spread his legs, he realized how vulnerable he was and shuddered with pleasure.

  “Now, I want you to sign this, but only if you do so willingly. If you’d rather deal with this through the police, we can stop right now.” She’d moved around and was standing directly behind his prostrate form. The notepad lay by his face; the words glared up at him. She laid her hand on the small of his back, and he shivered. He read the contract. It took him two full readings before the content sank in. He was shocked, excited, afraid, and more turned on than he’d ever been before. Did he dare go through with it? Did he have a choice?

  Holding a pen near his hand, she waited for him to decide. It didn’t take long. Within minutes, he signed it and it was back in her hands.

  “Ask me to punish you, Nathan.” She slapped the belt against her leg.

  “Please, ma’am, I need to be punished. Would you please use my belt and whip me? Please!”

  She reached between his spread thighs and caressed his tightened ball sac. With his testicles held firmly in one hand and the belt in the other, she whipped his bottom. Soft strokes alternated with harder ones. From cheek to cheek then down his thighs and back again.

  Sweat broke out on his forehead and trickled down his face, but her hold on his balls kept him from trying to escape as she punished him. To his utter amazement, his erection grew harder and his excitement soared. Furtively, he tightened his buttocks and thrust against the hard desk. His ass burned. But the fire within raged hotter. His thoughts focused on the fantasy he was living and his senses reeled in their quest for pleasure. Nerve endings flashed sparks of sensation and he craved more.

  She stopped strapping him. He gasped, glad she’d stopped yet aching for more. His ass felt flayed and his cock burned beneath him. He lay gasping, sweat covered him; the salt stung the welts like brands across his body.

  She released his balls, and his hips automatically thrust ahead, driving his cock across the desk. He bit his lip to keep from spewing, but couldn’t stop a groan of pleasure.

  When he raised his head, he saw her sitting behind her desk. Skirt raised, legs spread, she had one foot on the desk, the other on the floor. Her naked pubes faced him and he waited, salivating, wanting her as he’d never wanted a woman before.

  “Please,” he said, unable to keep silent.

  “No, watch me.” Her fingers slipped inside the silken splayed folds of her cunt. The liquid sounds of her pleasure made him breathless with desire. Yet, she ignored him as she rubbed herself, delving inside for the touch that would shatter her. For long minutes of frustration, he watched, unable to breathe or blink, afraid he’d miss a stroke while she teased herself. For her pleasure or his torment, he’d never know. Finally, he saw her calves tense and her buttocks lifted off the chair as she cried out an orgasm. Her scent filled his nostrils and, like a rutting animal, he savored the musky sweetness.

  He watched her body clench. The glistening wetness of her release oozed then dripped from her blood-swollen labia. He groaned, somehow sure he was not going to be allowed to come. But, even so, he couldn’t stop a smile.

  Rebecca eased her finger
s out and dropped her foot to the floor. Her breath was still short as she straightened her skirt. Done, she held her fingers out to him. “Lick them clean.”

  Eagerly he slid his tongue over the proffered digits.

  “Tomorrow, remember: an hour early, naked and waiting for me.”

  Nathan nodded, still busy cleaning the wetness from her hand, and unwilling to stop.

  “Also, you won’t masturbate or relieve yourself in any way.”

  He nearly fainted. She must be reading his mind. That was the only explanation for her knowing his fantasy so well. Again, he nodded, while sucking on her index finger. Beneath his belly, his cock leaked and throbbed.

  The next morning, after a restless night of tossing and turning, while trying to ignore an erection that just wouldn’t quit, Nathan entered Ms Harden’s office. His hand was already reaching for the buttons of his shirt. A smile played at the corners of his lips. Life was good.

  FLYING SOLO

  Elizabeth Coldwell

  The view from my hotel balcony was spectacular. A long, unspoilt sweep of white sand dotted with palm trees, the sun already beginning to sink down into a tranquil sea. But I wasn’t in the mood to enjoy any of it.

  In other circumstances, I’d have been looking forward to our brief layover in paradise, before making the return journey back to wintry Heathrow. But this was the first trip where Greg and I had been part of the same flight crew since we’d broken up. We’d been perfectly civil to each other in the crew room, and he’d been securely locked in the cockpit for the seven-hour flight, so I had no chance of bumping into him unexpectedly as I moved around the cabin. But every time his voice came over the intercom, smooth and assured, apprising the passengers of our progress, my stomach gave an unhappy little lurch. I’d told myself I was over Greg, but hearing him stirred up all the feelings I’d tried so hard to bury.

  From below me came the sounds of splashing and excited laughter. Jackie and Leah, most likely. They’d told me the first thing they were going to do once they hit the hotel was change into their bikinis and head for the pool. I was welcome to join them – if not there, then later in the cocktail lounge for a night of drinking, flirting and whatever came after. Leah had her eye on the newest crew member, Davey, a twinkly-eyed Scotsman who’d been working at Prestwick until a couple of weeks ago. And what she wanted, she usually got without too much effort.

  I had other plans, ones that ensured I wouldn’t end up downing one cocktail too many and making a fool of myself over Greg. Tonight, I was flying solo. I intended to take a long bath, order a seafood salad and a big glass of Chablis from room service, then take the phone off the hook and treat myself to a session with my favorite vibrator, packed specially for the occasion. The best way to get over an old boyfriend was to get under a new one, and if mine just so happened to be battery-operated, who cared?

  Except as I opened my overnight bag to get out the toiletries I needed, it became obvious that my plan had been derailed. Instead of my washbag, nightdress and change of clothes, I was looking at T-shirts, shorts and sandals, all undeniably masculine in style. Somehow, I’d picked up the wrong item from the baggage carousel – or, more accurately, some unknown man had walked off with mine, seeing as how the only things still circulating when I’d reached baggage reclaim had been those belonging to the crew.

  The airline website advised travelers to tuck their contact details somewhere into their luggage, just in case it went astray. Fortunately, this man had followed that advice. In the same inside pocket where I placed my own information, I found a plain postcard bearing his name – Richard McLean – and an address in a rather nice part of south-west London. Now all I had to do was discover where he was staying. He might very well be in a room not far from mine – this was the nicest hotel on the island, after all – but equally he could have chosen to rent one of the beachside villas further down the coast, in which case it could take me a while to track him down.

  A knock on the door interrupted my musings. Probably one of the girls, making another attempt to get me to join them in the bar. I grabbed the complimentary bathrobe from the closet, shrugging it on before preparing to tell my friends they were wasting their time.

  Instead of Leah, or Jackie, a stranger stood on the threshold. I gained a brief impression of impressive height and breadth, dark hair falling untidily into azure eyes, a wide smile that caused dimples to crease his cheeks. All very appealing, but my immediate attention was focused on the familiar-looking black leather bag in his grasp. A bag identical to the one resting on my bed.

  “Melanie Bright?” When I nodded, he said, “I guess you know why I’m here.” His expression was rueful as he glanced down at the bag. My bag. “I’m sorry. It was one of the first to appear on the carousel and I just grabbed it. It never occurred to me someone else on the flight might have the same bag until I came to open it.”

  “Well, thank you very much for bringing it back.” Was it just the thought of appearing rude that compelled me to invite him into the room to exchange bags, despite my resolve to be on my own tonight, or did it have more to do with the way my heart was suddenly beating faster, heat blooming low in my belly? Whatever the reason, Richard accepted, stepping inside and looking around.

  “Very nice. One of the perks of the job, I assume?”

  Of course he knew what I did for a living. My contact details were care of the airline, after all. “Makes up for the lousy pay. And some of the passengers we have to deal with.” Not that I’d dealt with him. I hadn’t seen him at all during the flight. He must have been traveling first class.

  “Oh, so that explains the stress reliever you carry with you.”

  Stress reliever? My face flushed as I realized what he must have discovered among my possessions. I was sure I wasn’t the only woman who traveled with a mechanical friend from time to time, but I couldn’t help wondering how Richard had reacted when he’d found it. “I . . . er . . . that is . . . Sometimes I just need to . . .”

  “You don’t need to explain anything to me.” Richard grinned wickedly. “Although a demonstration might be nice.”

  He couldn’t be serious. We didn’t even know each other, yet he was inviting me to play with my vibrator for his viewing pleasure. It was the most outrageous suggestion I’d ever heard, and that should have been the moment when I politely pushed his own bag into his hand and wished him a pleasant holiday. Instead, I made sure the door was locked, then invited him to make himself comfortable in the big wicker chair by the bed.

  He needed no encouragement, settling down with an expectant air. Feeling more than a little self-conscious, I unzipped my bag and took out the toy. Eight inches of soft flesh-colored silicone, realistic down to the veins running along its length. I’d bought it on a stopover in San Francisco a couple of years back, and it never failed to take me to the heights of orgasm, just as Richard was clearly hoping it would now.

  “How do you want me?” I asked.

  “You could lose the robe, for a start,” he replied.

  Doing as he asked, I felt the strange, giddy rush that came from baring myself completely to a fully clothed man. As the towelling robe dropped to the carpet, Richard’s gaze roamed over my curves, lingering on my heavy, red-nippled breasts and the patch of hair on my mound, trimmed almost to nothing so as not to peek out from the skimpy thongs I favored.

  Opening a travel-sized sachet of lube, I smeared the sticky liquid down over the vibrator’s length. Slowly stroking the toy, I kept my eyes locked on Richard’s. The implication was obvious. This was the same treatment I’d give to his cock if I had it, hot and aroused, in my hands.

  My calculated teasing had an immediate effect on him. A visible bulge pressed at the fly of his faded jeans, seeking to be free. His willpower was strong. He didn’t unzip himself, much as he must have wanted to. Instead, he leaned forward in the chair, watching as I played the fake cock over the insides of my spread thighs, slowing moving it up to their apex.

  Any embar
rassment I’d felt at displaying myself so lewdly to this stranger melted away as the vibrator worked its magic. The noise from the pool had faded, and the soft hum of the room’s air conditioning melded with that of the toy, steady and true. For the first time since I’d stepped on board the plane back in England, I’d stopped thinking about my ex. It didn’t matter what kind of fun my fellow crew members were having without me, or who Greg might be hooking up with tonight. At last, I was allowing myself a naughty little adventure of my own.

  When I moved the vibrator over my slick pussy lips, pressing it against my clit, the stimulation was too much. I didn’t want to come just yet, not before I’d given Richard a show to remember, so I pulled back. Now, the bulbous head of the toy rested lightly against my entrance. One little shove and it would glide inside me, its passage eased by a mixture of lube and the juices flowing freely from my excited cunt.

  Looking over at Richard, it seemed he’d lost the battle to remain in control of the situation. His cock was out and he was tugging the soft, wrinkled foreskin back and forth over its head. “That’s it,” he murmured, “fuck yourself with that big thing.”

  I groaned at his words. Greg had never enjoyed talking dirty to me, but being told what to do always seemed to ratchet my excitement up another notch. “Do you like this?” I asked, pushing another couple of inches of the thick silicone cock up inside me and feeling my muscles clench possessively around it in response.

  “I love it. You look so hot with that dick sliding in and out of your little pussy. It must be really stretching you.”

  “It is,” I admitted, “but I’d rather your cock was there in its place.”

  Richard seemed to have been waiting for the invitation. He rose from the chair and quickly shucked his jeans and underwear. Wondering how best to suggest he used protection, I was stopped in my tracks by the sight of him fishing a condom from his wallet, one step ahead of me. In moments, his beautiful penis was sheathed in matt black latex. About to climb onto the bed, he paused, distracted by something I couldn’t see.