The Mammoth Book of Erotic Stories

by Barbara Cardy

  Yeah, right. The first thing Patrick wanted to know was what was up with the backpack.

  “I was watching from the window,” he admitted. “I wanted to see what you looked like in clothes.”

  “Look, Patrick. You’re violating the rules! We can’t have uninhibited sex if you insist on getting overly familiar. I carry books around in my backpack – in case I get stuck in traffic. Are you happy now?”

  “Call me Pat. Or Sweetheart. Or Lover Man. And what’s so uninhibited about a woman who writes: Oral (Giving, not Receiving) on a notecard? Why won’t you let me go down on you? I bet you taste like ambrosia.”

  “Well, that’s something I’m very self-conscious about. It’s too intimate for me. This is supposed to be all about some secret part of ourselves unleashed in the dark. Why can’t you just follow along? Stop breaking the rules!”

  “To hell with the rules, Beth. I’m falling for you. Thanks to you, I have to get a new timepiece. I was winding my watch when an image of a certain lovely blonde lass popped in my head and the watch fell in the dogs’ water bowl. You owe me for that. I’d say at least a dinner and fifty consecutive nights spent tethered in my condo.”

  “Thanks to you, I bought carrots instead of cat food and had to go back to the grocery store. Twice. I suppose I could warm to the idea of being tethered, though.”

  Pat chuckled. “Think you could warm to the idea of me giving you oral if I tied you up again?”

  “Mmm. I see the handcuffs are right where we left them.” I curled my toes and arched my brows in anticipation.

  “You’re in for a treat, my masochistic little minx. I happen to be quite good at this.”

  “Handcuffs first. Then action.”

  Pat bound my wrists and held me against his chest, letting his hands roam where they wanted to. Then he turned me around and we kissed for what seemed like hours but was probably only a few minutes. He gently pushed me down on the mattress just like last time but instead of fucking me, he let his languet do its gentle handiwork as if trying to lick dew from the first petals of morning. Gradually though, the pressure increased and my clit was carried away by seiches of throbbing joy. My cunt welcomed Pat’s glossa with increasing abandon as that determined tongue made Byzantine progress from clit to crissum. I came harder than I ever thought possible, my vulva awash with affection for this man who seemed determined to please me as much as I wanted to cater to him.

  My sweet lover reached into the ornament tin, sheathed his cock and asked, “Do you want this now?”

  “Oh, yes!” I wanted to go down on him too, feel his rich cock grow and swell against my palette, but no good oral can be pressed into service in a rush. I was too hungry and wet with my own need at the moment.

  His cock plunged past and into my wet and wanting folds. Trussed as I was, I felt open and free, as if everything I needed was being pumped into me like ichor, each thrust gathering momentum, leaving no room for quibbles or doubts; I was breathless long before we came together in a paroxysm of joy.

  “Tell me the truth,” I ventured. “Did I taste OK?”

  “You taste like pear. My favorite fruit.” When I eyed Pat dubiously, he added, “Pears dipped in honey.”

  “I guess I got over my fear of intimacy.”

  “We’re just getting started. Right now though, I want you to get up and get dressed. I’m taking you away from here and we’re never coming back.”

  “OK,” I sighed. I put the cuffs back on the shelf and took one last look around. I looked out the window and saw wading in the pool a different couple from last time. The big-breasted woman I liked was replaced by a too-skinny model type and her much shorter mate was fastidiously touching her nipples. Funny how no matter how strange a situation I get myself into, as I’m about to leave it, a certain nostalgia sets in.

  I had entered this house looking for something uncomplicated and now I was leaving it with a man who said I taste like pears dipped in honey. I don’t know what he does for a living or if he even has a job. He may be allergic to cats. All I know for certain is, if he leaves me tomorrow and never contacts me again, I’ll start feeling nostalgic for him too.

  EROTICA

  Volume 5

  Edited by

  Barbara Cardy

  THE FARMER’S NIECE

  Nicky B

  The early morning sun shone through the small gap in the heavy curtains; a long bright strip of light crossed Leanne’s bed and naked flesh. She was laid back against a cluster of pillows with her dark hair melting into them and her sheets were kicked to the end of the old wooden bed.

  She was fully exposed, with her legs wide open and eyes tightly shut, as she worked her way through a random fantasy. A huge buzzing cock-shaped vibrator was sliding in and out of her pussy. Her hips moved up and down on the bed to accentuate each long thrust. She was imagining the heavy breath of a man on her ear, his hard cock thrusting into her wet pussy. She could feel her climax nearing.

  Her nipples were aching with the blood that flowed through them and made them erect. She moved her hips faster to bring on her ecstatic peak, but just when she was about to turn the small stream into a rushing river, the throbbing motion of her toy suddenly slowed down and then stopped altogether. Determined not to let the orgasm escape her, she flipped herself over onto her knees, positioned the lifeless toy between her legs and lowered herself down onto it.

  The old bed creaked as she bounced up and down on her plastic cock; a single stream of sweat ran down her back and onto her flawless buttocks. She thought of riding the man again and shook the base of the toy to simulate the throbbing. Ignoring the pain in her wrists, she finally felt herself begin to tip over the edge.

  “Ooooohhh!!!” she moaned, as she milked her climax for all it was worth, and then she collapsed face-down on the bed, more sweat making her sides tingle.

  Suddenly the door flew open – it was her uncle.

  “Breakfast is ready!” he called and shut the door quickly.

  As she heard his heavy footsteps fade down the corridor, she lay there in shock. Had he seen her naked? Did he look or even notice? None of these seemed to apply as she weighed up her situation.

  Leanne worked in finance in the city and she had come to stay with Uncle Ted for a break from her highly stressed career and life.

  “It will do you good,” her mother had told her. Wrong!

  Uncle Ted lived and worked on a farm. He had done all his life, after inheriting it from his father and so on. He was totally self-sufficient and only visited the village shop for tobacco and tea bags. His life had stood still for over thirty years while the rest of the world progressed. The main form of communication to him was by letter.

  This was why Leanne had no new batteries for her toy, nowhere to charge her laptop (not that there was any signal nearby), her phone or iPod. It had been several days into the stay and she was totally radio silent. She stood up in the long strip of sunlight and stretched. She dressed and sat down on the bed.

  “It’s getting cold!” came a distant voice.

  She looked up at the ceiling and closed her eyes. “I simply have to get out of this place!”

  Leanne eyed the huge pile of bacon, broken eggs and tomatoes. They were sitting in a pool of melted dripping. She wanted to throw up and did not hide the fact.

  “Well, if you don’t eat it, the goats certainly will!” Uncle Ted said with a mouthful of fried bread.

  “Look, I’m sorry. I just don’t eat such fatty foods! Can I make some toast, please?”

  “Of course, my dear, the oven is warm enough.” He moved a breadboard and large knife toward her. Her delicate hands cut and crunched through the thick, home-made crust. This had been her diet for the duration. She had enjoyed it at first but it was now wearing thin.

  She placed the slices in the cast iron oven and stood waiting; she eyed the big, heavy table in the center of the kitchen and tried to block out the loud squelching noises as her uncle gorged himself. Her bright short dress was a
stark contrast to the dreary room and she was glad she hadn’t brought her best shoes.

  She took out her toast, returned to the table and spread the butter that was made from the very cows that were barely fifty feet away. She was to inherit this farm when her uncle died – his birthplace, workplace and place of rest were barely within a hundred yards radius. Her plan was to leave it to anthropologists and let them work it all out.

  “I’m going into town today, I’ve got an important business meeting to attend to,” he said.

  The only word that went through Leanne’s mind was: Bookies!

  “While I’m away there might be a delivery, so when it arrives, drop what you’re doing and see that it’s offloaded into the far field.”

  Leanne was under curfew by order of her mother, the main gates were always locked so she could not drive her car out and she was made to work.

  “A week of this will do you the world of good!” Her mother’s voice echoed through her head.

  Bitch!

  Alone at last, she swept out the milking shed. She had borrowed some ill-fitting boots and had wrapped a jumper around her head to block out as much of the smell as she could. A cow watched her intently from over a wall as she struggled with the huge brush.

  “Oh shut up or get house-trained why don’t you!” she yelled through her top, only it was more of a muffled rant.

  The sound of a horn came from nearby. The delivery. Finally, she had an excuse to get out of the stinking shed.

  Leanne ran out into the hot sun and blinked to see a large lorry loaded up with hay. She pulled her jumper from off her face and peered at the driver leaning out of the cab. Her eyes were blurred and still adjusting to the change in brightness.

  “Good morning. I’m the hay man, ma’am,” said a handsome and friendly face.

  “I guess everyone calls you Fonzie then?” she said in a flirtatious way and smiled.

  “I beg your pardon, ma’am?”

  There was what seemed to be a long awkward silence.

  Does anyone own a TV around here? she thought to herself. “Never mind. Can you drop it in the far field, please?”

  “Very good, miss.” The diesel engine roared and the vehicle clattered away.

  Leanne went back to the shed, wrapped her top around her face again and picked up a hose. She rotated the end and sprayed a narrow stream of water onto the floor.

  She began to think about the hay man; he may well have been one bale short of a harvest party, but was better than nothing. And she had blown it!

  Just as she began to drift into a fantasy, the hose jet hit a corner of the concrete compound and sent a mix of cold water and cow shit right over her dress. She screamed through her makeshift gas mask and quickly turned off the hose.

  In a flash she was running across the yard and tearing off her dress in disgust. By the time she reached the kitchen, she was in just her underwear. She sat down and sobbed loudly with her head in her hands.

  “Anything I can do for you, ma’am?” came a voice.

  “No, I’ve died and gone to fucking hell!”

  She quickly composed herself and turned to face the doorway. The hay man was standing there enveloped in bright sunlight that resembled an aura.

  “Sorry, sorry! I had a bit of an accident and needed to clean up. Is the hay unloaded now?”

  “Why yes, ma’am. Is Ted not here?”

  “No, he’s gone into town. I don’t know how long for.”

  “Oh, oh, I see! Well, he usually gives me a small shot of fine whisky when I deliver to him.”

  “OK. Let me get it for you. Please, sit down.” She moved across the kitchen and opened a cupboard.

  A large old bottle was sitting at the front; she had seen Uncle Ted get a drink a few times before.

  “I’m Leanne by the way, Ted’s niece. Just here for the week.” She could feel his eyes moving up and down her body like a warm, soft brush, caressing her as she poured the foul-smelling liquid into a surprisingly clean tumbler.

  “N-n-n-Neil! Erm, ma’am!” His voice was quivering.

  She turned to face him and found him staring wide-eyed at every inch of her but her face. She felt a tingle and sensed the electricity between the two of them.

  As she placed the glass on the table she looked down and realized she was still just in her underwear – her skimpiest little number too. She gasped at the realization. The silence was deafening as they stared at each other.

  Neil wore a vest top that showed hard-working arms – a fetish of Leanne’s. And he even resembled the man that had fucked her in her dreams.

  The stillness was broken by heavy breath from both mouths at once.

  Leanne pushed aside the bread and whatever else got in her way. She jumped up onto the huge table, crawled across the smooth wood and threw her arms around Neil’s strong neck. They exchanged stares, each waiting for the other to make a move.

  Just a fraction of an inch was enough. Neil moved toward her and their mouths locked together, exploring, massaging and exhaling loudly through nostrils.

  The smell of rolling tobacco stood out as their senses worked to their limits.

  Neil’s stubble brushed over Leanne’s lips as they tilted from side to side and, finally, they parted.

  Leanne sat upright in front of him and opened her legs wide. He looked down as she slid her underwear aside to reveal a perfectly trimmed pussy. She leaned back on her left hand, grabbed his hair with her right and pulled him down till his lips were pressing hers.

  “Fuck me with your tongue, Hay Boy. Take a long good taste of a city girl!” She let go of him and lay back till her head rested on the wood.

  He ran his tongue from side to side across her lips to find them drenched already. His rough hands moved up and down her thighs as he licked and parted them.

  Her hands moved down until they found his and clasped them tight together. She lifted her hips a little and gasped out in surprise when she felt his tongue licking her anus. Leanne lifted her head to see him looking right into her eyes as he massaged her tight hole.

  Her head fell back with a thump on the table and Neil looked up out of concern.

  “Don’t you dare stop! Don’t you fucking dare!” Leanne hissed through gritted teeth.

  Sensing she was enjoying it immensely, he licked her harder and over both holes in turn.

  As she felt her peak approaching, she wrapped her slim legs around his neck and clamped him hard. Trapped, he reached up, pushed her bra up and took hold of her swollen nipples. And squeezed them.

  “Fuck! Fuck! Yes, yesssss! Make me come on your face, Hay Boy!”

  As he pulled on her nipples, he sunk his teeth gently into her wet pussy lips. Leanne shrieked as it felt like every drop of blood was flowing to her pussy. She felt her shuddering body tip over the edge and crash against the shore. Not once but twice.

  She convulsed on the old wooden surface and shivered her climax away, her chest crimson as she let Neil go free and sit back on his chair.

  “Mmm. I so needed that! I was all set to jump into the workings of a harvester had I not attained some satisfaction!” She lifted her head up and exchanged a big smile with Neil. “You’ve got ten seconds to drop those trousers, Straw Boy!”

  It took him about five and he was already fully erect and protruding above the hem of his vest. Leanne lifted herself up so she was on her hands and knees again. Reaching out, she took hold of his thighs and pulled him closer.

  “It’s your turn to fuck my face now!” she said, smiling, and she quickly wrapped her lips around his hard cock.

  He breathed in sharply as he felt himself slide deep into her warm mouth and over her tongue. She pulled his thighs and urged movement from him. In no time he was gliding in and out regularly, all the time maintaining eye contact with her.

  She moved her hand down to wrap some fingers around his pole; she didn’t want to gag – just enjoy the taste and feel him throbbing inside her. Neil massaged her shoulders as she moved back and
forth in front of him. He also managed to undo her bra, allowing her breasts to swing in the warm air.

  Leanne’s hands suddenly went up and pressed against Neil’s belly, stopping his movement.

  She looked up at him again. “Get those trousers right off and yourself onto here!”

  As he kicked off his muddy boots, she took off her G-string and waited on her knees. He climbed on after moving some more kitchen utensils and bread. She guided him to lie down and got astride him, her hands spread out across his tight chest and her feet flat on the table. He aimed his hard cock upward and she slid down the full length in one go.

  “Ooohh!” she cried as hot shivers traveled from her pussy to every other inch of her body.

  He took hold of her nipples again, as she moved up and down on his hardness. Their thighs made a slapping sound with each thrust and their panting synched up a notch. Neil’s balls slapped her smooth arse cheeks as he moved upward into her. She edged her face close to his and he lifted up to meet her lips in a long deep kiss. She gave out another squeal followed by a loud scream.

  He could feel her pussy rippling over his cock as she climaxed once again.

  “Ooooh. Fuck fuck fuck!”

  Neil quickly lifted her up and spun her around while she was shaking and limp like a rag doll. He thrust his tongue into her pussy and stirred it around to bring her off all over again. Her body pulsated throughout and, gathering enough composure, she took his cock into her mouth and moved her lips up and down. She squeezed the base and felt him rear up inside. She pulled away quickly and a huge spurt covered her breasts, neck and face. She jerked his spurting cock as his warm come ran down her skin. Leanne sucked out the last drops.

  They both licked their own lips dry and repositioned themselves so they were laid face to face.

  “Wasn’t the Fonz’s real name Arthur?” said Neil.

  Leanne was surprised. “How did you know that?”

  “This isn’t hillbilly hell you know, we do have TVs that show old and current shows.”

  She blushed. “Come on, we’d better get dressed!”