Who was this? Luther, or Aurelius?
Instead, full of both of them, clothed in darkness, body held and licked and kissed by these two men, she rode one and bucked into the other. Fast, faster. Deep, deeper. A groan welled up in her throat. She was going to come. God, she was going to come. She gripped skin. Stopped. Climaxed. Her groan unleashed. An orgasm fired through her body, bringing it alive. The pair of them came inside her at the same time. They throbbed, orgasm pulsing inside her pussy and her arse. It was beautiful. Completely fulfilling. She couldn’t ever imagine it being any different.
The lights went up. She pulled off her blindfold, the two of them still inside her, softening. The man below her was Luther. Turning, she saw the man behind was Aurelius. She smiled at both of them.
“Your decision?” Hiller asked.
She flinched. All of the vampires were rapt behind their masks. They had watched the whole performance.
Molly felt powerful. “I choose both. Again. Right now.”
The great thing about vampires, as Molly would be happy to spend the rest of her life discovering, was that they were always ready. They changed position, Luther driving deep inside her arse this time, Aurelius’s cock in her pussy. His beautiful face smiling up at her.
The audience started to applaud and whoop, bang the tables. Loud and louder, they encouraged her rhythm.
“Leave the lights, Hiller,” Molly said, breathless.
WHAT MY BABY LIKES
Sommer Marsden
It’s easy to give the person you love what they like. Missy likes a bit of cock a few times a year. She gets a fever for it, so she says. She’s bi and I’m not. But who am I to keep her from getting dick if that’s what she needs?
So I facilitate.
Jamie is a sweetie. Almost girlish in nature, and maybe that’s my little control-freak nature showing through. His wheat-colored hair brushes his shoulders and often hangs in his eyes, which are big and blue and shot with saltwater green. He talks with a slight lisp and his lips are incredibly full. Almost lush. I would even kiss him, I think.
“She’s in there,” I say and can’t help but laugh when he grins.
“Always game for your emergency calls, Donna,” he whispers.
“Good thing, too. She’s half crazy for it. And strap-ons aren’t the real deal,” I say, handing him a beer. “Trust me, I get told that when she gets to the point where nothing but you and your magical hard-on will do.”
Jamie grabs the bulge in his pants and says, “Wouldn’t it be a hoot if I could conjure up a rabbit with this thing?”
“No,” I snort, “but if you can please a pussy, it’s all good.”
“Jamie?”
And there is Missy in the doorway in her short denim cutoffs and her white wife-beater tank. Her feet are bare, her toenails painted a bright sunshiny orange. Long dark-blonde hair sways around her shoulders and I can see her nipples through that tank. It makes my cunt wet and slippery and makes my heart feel a bit too big for my chest.
“Hey, kid.”
“You here for me?”
“You know I am,” he says and winks at her, setting the beer down without taking so much as a swig.
“Thanks, Don, baby,” Missy says and she blows me a kiss that I feel in my gut.
“Sure thing, Missy. Let’s go, shall we? You look all flushed and manic.”
“I feel all flushed and manic,” she admits.
That works for me. Missy is a dirty, dirty girl when she gets this way.
We all go up to the bedroom single file. Jamie watching her ass and me watching her ass. It’s a damn fine ass.
I drop into the yellow and green armchair in the corner. It’s one of Missy’s thrift-store finds and is angled just so – facing the bed at the perfect angle. It looks like something a father from a cheerful and proper sitcom would sit in.
I grip the arms in my hands and watch my girl ditch her tank top and her shorts. She is perfect and lithe without clothes – pale and golden in places. She is the woman I love.
Jamie stands there, thumbs tucked in his waistband, looking golden and beautiful himself. If she did not love me, they’d be a great full-time couple. But she does love me and for that I am grateful. For that I do nice things like give her the cock she needs a few times a year.
“Still smoking, Missy,” he chuckles and I can’t help but smile.
She tosses him a condom from the small box in her night-stand and cocks a hip. “Here you go, cowboy. I don’t have time for chit-chat.” And then she bounces onto the bed like an eager sorority girl, breasts bouncing, pert rosy nipples bobbing for an instant.
I feel that sizzle–flash–stab of jealousy but let it pass. This always works out to benefit me, and oddly always makes us stronger and closer. I can do this. She only wants dick a few times a year, she wants me every day.
Jamie shakes his head, trying not to smile, trying to feign shock. He fails. He finds her as amusing as I do. As wild and raw and free-spirited as I do. It is something we share, and it’s why I trust him.
He shucks his jeans slowly, making her watch. Making her wait. I see lovely Missy lick her plump lips and a fine tremor works through me. I know what that girl can do with her lips . . . her tongue . . . her teeth. A trickle of wetness flows out of me, moistening my panties, clinging to my softest skin as a reminder that I both love and hate these parts of our year.
“Come on, Jamie,” Missy sighs. “Don’t fuck with me.”
“Should I button them up?” he laughs.
“I said don’t fuck with me. Not don’t fuck me. Get them off,” she growls and then she whoops like a cowgirl and every single one of us snickers for a moment.
I find that my hands are gripping the arms of the chair a bit too hard. I loosen my fingers, sit back and try to breathe. She’s gorgeous and willowy. The flare of her hips an exclamation of femininity and sex. God, how I want her. But I have to wait my turn.
Jamie drops his jeans. Dark-washed, pristine denim this time. His faded-out, holey, low-on-the-hip regulars seem to have fallen out of favor. He looks younger and cockier in these jeans. Like a boy pretending to be a full-grown man.
Missy loses her patience and grabs the front of his boxer-briefs and yanks. Jamie stutter-steps toward the bed and she hooks her tiny hands in the sides of his briefs and tugs. His cock springs free even as he’s trying to pull his T-shirt over his head one-handed.
“There it is,” Missy coos like a kid on Christmas morning. Her voice is wonder and delight and sheer joy. I feel another flash lightning streak of jealousy but can’t help but smile at her apparent happiness. Missy has that effect on me.
Her head dips, honey-blonde hair a swirl and tangle around her thin face. She sucks his cock in between her pink-pink lips and I can read in Jamie’s face all the same pleasure I feel when she sets that mouth to making me happy.
She sucks him and her cheekbones bloom angular and delicate. Her hair swings and bounces, her ass sticks high and I imagine myself, kissing her, driving into her from behind with the strap-on I favor, to feel the way she shimmies under me. And how it drives the small plastic nubs inside the device against my own clit. We’ve spent many happy afternoons in that position.
Instead I watch her lick up the length of Jamie, claim his tight ass with her small but strong hands, and tug him closer so she can get him deeper into her throat.
“Jesus, Missy,” he growls. All the smiles are gone from his face. All the humor erased from his eyes. He looks like any man would in this position – hungry and eager.
I want to touch myself. I sit on my hands instead.
“I know, I know. I waited too long this time. And would have waited longer if it weren’t for Don.” Her eyes shoot to me and she gives me a smile that breaks my heart.
“Donna’s a good egg,” he says conversationally, but he’s stroking her jaw, guiding her back to his hard length.
She sucks just the tip in, murmuring, “She could practically smell it on me, I guess. Th
e craving.”
I nod because it’s true.
“And she gave me what I needed because she loves me,” Missy says and then shifts to tongue his balls.
His head drops back, his eyes slam shut and there I sit in my armchair, nodding again. Because again, she’s right.
Missy pulls free of him with a sucking sound that is such a big noise in our small quiet room. She spreads herself, pale and ready, across the blue quilt and spreads her long smooth legs. I can see the pink-rosy-ruby flesh of her pussy. I can smell her in the warm small space we all occupy. I lick my lips and wait.
Jaime rolls the condom on, finally, and stalks her. He seems so fucking big in relation to her and I feel a prick of urgency – a need to protect her. Until I assure my instincts that I am the one who brought him here and for a very good reason.
He puts his hands on her thighs, spreading her wide. Then he grabs his cock and paints her wet slit with it. Angling just so, he teases her hard little clit with the wet tip of his dick until she’s panting.
That is my one rule. He can’t go down on her. No licking, no flicking, no sucking, no eating. That’s for me and me alone. So he teases her to a near orgasm and then pauses, his pretty eyes finding me. When I nod, he drives into her in one long strong stroke and Missy’s whole body tenses up to greet him. Her slender arms and legs rise up and cling to him, her head tilts back, her mouth goes soft and wide and all I can think is . . . God, is she beautiful.
Jamie fucks her hard at first. A good strong flurry of thrusts that have her hands grasping and moving of their own accord. And when she comes, he whispers to her, little nonsense words like he’s soothing her from some pain instead of encouraging her pleasure.
“Come on. Come here, baby. Come on, Don,” Missy finally says, her voice high and weak and so, so happy.
I wait. Not sure if I should or not. “Please,” she says, cracking me.
“Please, baby? Take your pants off and come up here. I want you both.”
Sometimes it goes this way and sometimes not. I always feel a moment of uncertainty when it does drift in this direction. But Jamie and I have no contact, we are two different entities in this scenario and the bottom line is I get my girl in a whole new way when things go like this.
I shed my jeans, I’m bare underneath. I pull free of my tank and my bra and move to the other side of the bed from Jamie. Her fingers pull at me and she smiles, looking pleased and easy and a little bit buzzed.
“Over my head, baby. I want to say thank you.” She grabs one of our overstuffed pillows and shoves it under her head. I pause to kiss her and I can feel the slow, gentle bounce-bounce-bounce like a metronome as Jamie continues to drive into my girl.
I sigh into her mouth, brush her hair out of her face and then get in the position she demands. On my knees, hovering low, so she can reach me with her mouth and . . .
God, there it is. The first gentle suckling brush of her lips on me. Missy traces the plump outer folds of my nether lips, circling ever inward until I have to hold my own thighs in a death grip to keep from trembling. I lock eyes with Jamie, but only for a moment, because then we are both once again powerless to gaze upon the pretty woman caught between us. Her legs spread to him, her mouth open to me.
She drives her rigid tongue up into my cunt and I gasp. She smiles, laughs softly, her hot breath feathering my most tender skin and then she drives her long, thin fingers into my pussy and starts to fuck me with them. Her lips and tongue tickling, circling over my clit so that my hips want to start that secret undulating dance that always precedes orgasm.
“I love you, Don,” she says, hooking another finger into me. Taking them all and bullying my G-spot into giving up a gush of fluid which she then licks off me.
I whisper that I love her, too. And God damn, do I. She moves faster then. Hips raising up to meet Jamie, tongue raising up to meet me. A comma of a woman bent on getting and giving pleasure and when I make that sound – a sound that Missy knows all too well – she curves her cool fingers even harder against that soft suede patch of internal skin and I’m coming.
And she’s drinking me. Her mouth never stopping as I chew my bottom lip to keep from being too loud and yet finally surrendering to the sound of my adoration for her.
Jamie holds on for a few more minutes. Just a few. But when Missy tosses her head back and forth and gasps before crying out, his mouth clamps down into a tight line and he’s coming too. His sounds harsher and darker and guttural.
I climb free, kiss her forehead and leave them. He’s always allowed her one goodbye kiss and even I am smart enough to know that fucking is never really just fucking.
I hear them talk, I hear her laugh and it is not long before the door opens. We’ll see Jamie at parties and cookouts and gatherings of friends soon enough. He’s a good guy, thank God, I remind myself. I force myself to say it. “Can you stay for that beer you never had?”
Jamie knows an empty offer when he hears one. He winks at me, kisses the side of my face and says, “Maybe next time, Don.”
“Maybe.”
He’s halfway down the stairs and I find my sense of humor. “See you in three to six months,” I call.
“I’ll be here with bells on,” he says.
“Now that would be new.”
He pauses at the bottom of our staircase, eyeing me. “Seriously,” I say, my voice hoarse. “Thanks. It would be even less easy with someone I didn’t like . . . didn’t trust.”
He nods. “I like and trust you too, Donna. Take care. Of you and of her.”
“You know it.”
And then Missy is calling me and I know the strap-on will be out and she will spend the better part of the day thanking me. There will be a killer dinner made while she hums and the good wine we save for special occasions and many kisses. But right now, I have the woman I love waiting on me and her lover letting himself out the front door.
I turn to our bedroom and go to her.
VERY CANDID CAMERA
Alex Severn
It was rare to get a day off together particularly with Mike’s schedule but today it happened. Angela was determined they would do something with the day, go somewhere, otherwise she would just catch up with the housework and he would stay in bed late and watch sport all day on the satellite. But with the mood he was in, she could see it wasn’t going to be a successful outing. She desperately needed to get some more pictures before the photography class met again, only two days left, maybe just a few more scenes across the village, perhaps after the light had gone . . .
In the end, she settled for a lunch somewhere different, at least a couple of hours in a new environment. She took her camera in with her. She’d seen the tapas bar before and had wondered how they could make it pay on an estate like this and, as they went in, she saw they were the only customers which just reinforced her doubts. Still, that was their problem and it was nice that they had the place to themselves; maybe the service would be fast and efficient. She couldn’t have been prepared for the person doing the serving to be that great to look at though.
He was like a character from an Aussie soap, improbably tanned skin, bleached blond hair, but it was those eyes that made her heart beat faster. A pale soft blue, the contrast between their color and the darkness of the tanned face almost took her breath away. His accent was a bit of a reality check, since it was as local as hers, but while he was asking if they wanted to order, he turned to face Mike, giving Angela the chance to study his body without fearing he would notice the once-over he was getting. Back to Bondi Beach really: a tight-fitting white T-shirt showed off his broad chest – she could see his nipples pressed hard against the fabric – and his light-blue jeans framed long slender legs and, as he turned a little more at an angle to her, she enjoyed how the tight fit emphasized the muscles in his bum. Like a shock wave, Angela felt a vision of the two of them together surging through her mind and body. She could almost feel him inside her, thrusting his rock-hard cock between her wide open legs
. . .
She came out of her dream state in time to order a caffé latte and some tapas, but as the vision disappeared normality was soon upon her.
“Do you have to stare at him like that for God’s sake? Act your age, woman, you’re old enough to be his mother!”
Thanks for reminding me, she said to herself, but she went on the attack. “Oh, I see, yes, when we went to Mary’s house and her son was there with his pretty little girlfriend, I just imagined you lusting about her cute body, did I? I mean she must have been at least twenty-one, so for a fifty-year-old man that would be about the right age, wouldn’t it?”
“That’s different and you know it. Any man can appreciate a pretty girl but you make yourself look stupid with your tongue hanging out like that for him.”
The lunch wasn’t a great success. Angela wished she was at work.
She went up to the bar to pay the bill with her credit card and was served by a pretty blonde – maybe his partner, who knows? Lucky girl if she was. Angela guessed he must be having a break in the back of the place as nobody else had come in all the time they were there. How long before they go out of business? she thought sadly.
As she was waiting for the receipt, he appeared at the bar, treating her to a smile that raised her temperature immediately.
“Enjoy your meal, love?”
“Yes, fine thanks.”
“Couldn’t help noticing your camera, are you a professional then?”
Using the eyes that she kept at the back of her head, Angela enjoyed the growing irritation that Mike was showing as she chatted to this likeable, friendly, but most of all gorgeous, young man at the bar. And when she sensed her husband approach them, knowing he was going to be curt and probably ill-mannered, she timed her final comment perfectly.
“Yes, it might be good to get some shots inside a place as cosy and well set out as you’ve got here. Have to get the lighting right but . . . maybe I’ll call again when you’re quiet.”
Mike snorted. “You can’t get much quieter than this, can you? Look if you want me to drive you around so you can fool about with your camera fantasy, let’s go, OK?”
The Mammoth Book of Erotic Stories Page 21
