“Is that good, baby? Are you going to come for me?” she teased.
Steve’s body bucked against the bed, but he didn’t release his grip on the bedposts. “God, yes. Oh God, yes. That’s fantastic. Don’t stop. Please don’t stop. Faster. Faster.” But instead he moaned in a mixture of agony and ecstasy as Amy stopped completely.
She dismounted, then sat Steve up on the edge of the bed and knelt on the floor between his thighs. She took his swollen cock into her mouth, relishing the tangy mixture of his salty manhood and her own juices, and his low moan of pleasure. She began to bob her head slowly up and down, taking more and more of him into her mouth, her left hand providing a quickening counterpoint as she eased the slick, velvety smooth skin up and down his shaft. Steve’s body began to jerk and she knew he was only seconds away. So, as a special treat, and because she knew how much it turned him on, she sucked back along his shaft until her open mouth was suspended just in front of the tip of Steve’s cock so he was able to watch himself come, jets of hot spunk squirting into her mouth and dribbling down her chin. Amy’s right hand had sped down to her clit, sopping fingers running up and down her slit in time to her wanking, and, almost miraculously, they came together in a blur of digital passion, before falling asleep, a tangle of torsos and limbs.
The following morning, the weather was so good they decided to have a swim and sunbathe on the deck. Steve went back into the cabin for his video recorder and when reappeared he called Amy over: “Hey, come and have a look at this!”
Amy peered at the small view-screen but if she was expecting The Sound of Music what she actually got was 9½ Weeks. There she was on screen, in her “whore’s drawers”, bouncing madly up and down on Steve. It wasn’t exactly an Oscar winner but it was very definitely raunchy and obviously her.
“I got the whole thing,” said Steve smugly. “I set the camera up on the dressing table while you were in the shower and put my T-shirt over it. You were fantastic. I’m thinking of having the lads round when we get back to show them our holiday movies.”
“Shit, you utter shit!” she raged. “You might have told me . . . ”
“But you’d only have said no. Much better this way. You really were fantastic you know.”
Amy stormed off back into the cabin. Steve meanwhile plonked himself into the double-seater garden swing, draped his arms across the back and began to push himself backwards and forwards in obvious delight.
When Amy eventually emerged a few minutes later she was carrying her handbag. “You weren’t the only who bought some playthings in town. I got these from the local gun shop.” She produced two pairs of genuine Army-issue handcuffs. “And if you ever want to get inside my knickers ever again, mister, you’d better do exactly as I say.” With this she cuffed his wrists to the heavy chains suspending the seat from the frame. Satisfied he was helpless, she removed his Bermuda shorts, grabbed his prick and pumped it none too gently until he was fully hard. “Don’t start without me,” she ordered, “I’m off for a swim.”
“But . . . but . . . you can’t leave me like this,” he pleaded.
“And who’s going to stop me? I’ll only be gone a couple of minutes,” she called back as she took a racing dive off the deck and into the bracing water.
Good as her word, she was and, once back, she stripped off in front of him. The swing consisted of a slatted wooden seat, covered with a large rectangular cushion and a single wooden plank as a back support, with a gap of about a foot between it and the seat. Amy was able to slide her legs through this gap, either side of Steve’s hips, mounting him as she sat astride his lap. She was still wet and cold from the lake and roughly wiped his face across her tits as she settled into a steady rhythm. “Oh, oh,” she said three or four minutes later, “I think things are getting a little hot. I’d better go and cool off again.”
Steve moaned with frustration but there was very little else he could do as Amy disappeared back into the lake.
This time when she reappeared she towelled off just a couple of feet in front of him, rubbing herself briskly until her skin shone pink and paying particular attention to her breasts and pussy. She pulled up one of the wooden chairs and perched her buttocks on the back and very slowly began to stroke her pussy in front of him.
“Oh my God. You bitch. You can’t do this to me. Let me go. Let me go.”
“I don’t think so. At least not yet anyway.” Pausing, she picked up the video camera and trained it on him before her fingers restarted their leisurely play. After a couple of minutes of this, she stood up and walked over to him, camera still running, and allowed the lens to wander up and down his body. Her right hand left her groin and slippery wet fingers curled around his shaft, wanking the soft skin backwards and forwards over his swollen helmet . . . as the video zoomed in for a loving close-up. “Just a little something for the lads. I was thinking of having them round when we get back to watch the holiday movies,” she explained.
“Noooo! Noooooo! I just can’t bear it,” he moaned and tossed his head from side to side like an animal in pain.
Amy realized that enough was enough. She went round behind the swing and unlocked each of his wrists almost before he realized what was happening.
“Catch me if you can,” she taunted and jumped down off the decking before heading back across the meadow.
It took Steve fifty or sixty yards to catch her. Grabbing one of her arms, he swung her round and into his. He picked her up, kicking, and carried her bodily over to one of the sausage-shaped hay bales that littered the meadow and dumped her unceremoniously, face down, across it.
Thwack ! Thwack! His palm cracked down, two stinging blows across her buttocks. Amy yelped in shock as hot pain blazed across her cheeks, then grunted as Steve rammed himself into her. Her body was on fire: from the running, from the sun, from the sex; she was molten and melting. The hay bale was soft beneath her but the ends of the dry grass were like millions of tiny little needles. They seemed to be scratching and pricking at wherever she was most tender: her breasts, nipples and especially down between her legs.
Steve seized her by the hips and began pushing and pulling her roughly backwards and forwards along the length of his rock-hard shaft.
“Oh Jesus. Oh yes. Yes, oh yes! That’s it. Come on, fuck me, fuck me, or I’ll have you in those handcuffs for a week next time,” she teased. “Come on. Come on, baby. Come for me. Come for me now.”
With one last thrust and a wordless roar, Steve came deep inside her, jet after jet after jet, and Amy’s muscular contractions were so hard and strong it seemed as if her cunt was trying to turn itself inside out.
Later, after they had recovered, and were walking back across the meadow to the cabin, Steve slipped his arm around her waist and affectionately cupped one of her buttocks. The livid palm prints from his spanking were still clear on each cheek and she winced slightly at this gentle touch. “Thank you, sir,” she said meekly. “It really has been a pleasure doing business with you.”
EROTICA
Volume 8
Edited by
Barbara Cardy
BUSINESS AS USUAL
Dita Darker
Together they were dynamite, the top sales team for the company. Traditionally, AFM’s sales people worked individually, targeted with a sales figure to reach over the year. Alex and John had taken the different tack of working as a team to target larger clients. Their double-headed approach worked and they had smashed their combined sales targets. A five-figure bonus had been their respective rewards.
As they traveled in a black cab to the restaurant where they were meeting a prospective client, Mr Yamamoto, Alex regarded her business partner idly. John was a well-groomed man, tall and muscular, with a shaved head and neatly trimmed sideboards and goatee. His shoulders were broad in his pinstriped suit, crisp dove-grey shirt and darker grey silk tie. His piercing blue eyes, undoubtedly his most attractive feature, were focused on the client file clasped in his strong, well-manicured hands.
When they had first begun working together the sexual frisson between them had been palpable. It had come to a head on an office night out where they had stolen just one rough, needy kiss in the dark corridor of a nightclub. Her stomach flipped involuntarily as she remembered that night: the meal, the club, the tequila, the dancing. Alex and John had been dancing to the loud, throbbing music, grinding their hips against each other outrageously. She recalled the way that his hands had roamed from her waist to her bottom, how she had looked up at him through her long dark fringe and most of all how the temptation to tilt her head the last two inches toward his smiling mouth had been almost unbearable.
She had not been altogether surprised after a trip to the ladies’ to find John waiting for her in the dark corridor. Without a word he had maneuvered her against the wall, immediately dropping his mouth to meet hers. It was an urgent, sexually charged kiss, his tongue probing her mouth with a ferocity borne of pure desire. She had responded with her full body, pushing against him, biting his lower lip, exploring his inquisitive mouth with its rough lips and hot interior. Her pussy was hot with desire and his cock was hardening against her, straining against his dark denim jeans. He kissed her neck and ran his hands through her long hair to pull her head roughly to his.
But John was married. He had pulled away with difficulty.
“We can’t,” he had said, “it would ruin everything, we could get the sack.”
Alex had nodded, hastily breaking contact with his devastating eyes and smoothing down her dress where it had become rumpled during their passionate embrace.
“And I’m married,” he had added.
It was true, she reasoned, what they had was too good to be ruined by a seedy affair. The racy red convertible that sat in pride of place on her driveway was a benefit afforded only by their continued success. John’s holiday home in the south of France was the fruit of two years of hard labour and the best sales figures in the company. In the cold light of the Monday morning they had talked their situation over in earnest. They decided that to be a team and keep at the top of their game their relationship would have to remain on a purely professional footing. Over time their unfulfilled lust had eased to a familiar if flirtatious friendship. However more often than not it was still John that she thought of as she masturbated.
As the cab pulled up at the restaurant, Alex couldn’t help but notice the way that John’s eyes surreptitiously slid from her expensive patent leather high heels up her sheer-stocking-clad legs to where her skirt had slid slightly above the knee. She caught his eye and he smiled, knowing that he had been caught ogling her but not embarrassed about it.
The restaurant specialized in seafood and the sea bass Alex ordered was divine, especially washed down with a very nice white wine. She couldn’t help but notice the appreciative glances thrown her direction from their guest. Mr Yamamoto was a well-kept middle-aged gentleman with distinguished salt and pepper hair. She often flirted a little with clients to keep the conversation moving over dinner or drinks but today found herself genuinely enjoying the banter. Mr Yamamoto was undoubtedly excellent company, but remained evasive on the subject of whether his company would place an order with AFM.
“To be quite frank,” he said, spreading his hands in front of him, “I’m not entirely sure what your unique selling point is. I’ve eaten a hundred different lunches with a hundred different companies. I like you two—” he looked pointedly at Alex “—but I’m not convinced that I should give you my business.”
“Mr Yamamoto,” said John lightly, “I’m quite sure that we can convince you AFM is worthy of your business. We operate differently to most of the other players in the market and our services are personally tailored to your requirements.” He caught the eye of an eager hovering waitress, indicating that they would take tea and coffee in the Green Room. “Come—” he gestured to his companions “—let’s take this negotiation somewhere a little more discreet.”
Alex had never been in the Green Room. It was a private room at the back of the restaurant, reputed to be where all of the wheeling and dealing happened, or where local businessmen would take their mistresses for dinner to remain discreet. The decor was, rather surprisingly, cream, but two emerald-green couches faced each other over a bamboo and glass coffee table. John and Mr Yamamoto took the couch facing the door and Alex sat opposite, sinking into the well-stuffed cushions. She was a little flushed from the wine so removed her suit jacket, exposing the sheer, filmy blouse underneath. Aware that Mr Yamamoto was looking at her with undisguised lust, she sat back in the sofa and subtly crossed her legs, ensuring that he got an eyeful of her lace-topped hold-ups.
The tea and coffee arrived and she took the role of hostess, pouring cups for both their guest and John. As she replaced the coffee pot on the table, John winked at her, and then beckoned for Alex to sit on his lap. For a second she froze, unsure if she was reading the situation right. She was surprised by the bold gesture, however their methods of selling were often unconventional and she was confident that John’s plan would become apparent in time.
“I think you will find us very unique,” he began, as she settled herself onto his lap. “Alex and I are very dedicated to the job.” To her surprise, the hands on her waist traveled slowly up until he was cupping her breasts gently in his hands. He squeezed and kneaded and they dutifully engorged at his touch, until her hardened nipples were unashamedly protruding through the flimsy material of her blouse. Mr Yamamoto watched intently, hardly blinking.
“You can be guaranteed to have our full attention,” continued John, “as I am sure that we have your attention now.” At that moment, his hands were gently massaging her breasts and Mr Yamamoto was very interested indeed. She had not been touched by John since their single kiss almost two years ago and Alex was delighting at his touch.
At that precise moment Mr Yamamoto’s phone rang. As he took the call with an apologetic wave, John whispered in her ear, “This isn’t exactly our usual sales technique, are you sure you want to continue? He was ogling you over dinner so I thought that this would be our best chance for a sale.”
Alex considered his suggestion for a moment. Mr Yamamoto, as well as being a handsome man, could double her bonus and cement her place at AFM. And just to have John’s hands on her after months and months of unfulfilled longing was reward enough.
Mr Yamamoto cut his call short and sat down on the same couch again.
“Let’s do this,” she murmured.
“How rude of me,” their client apologized with a cheeky glint in his eye. “Now, where were we?”
John was more than happy to fill him in. “Well, I do believe I was going to give you the benefit of Alex’s lovely breasts.”
“Please continue.”
Alex hardly dared to breathe as John unbuttoned her blouse from behind, grazing her already excited nipples. She could feel a hot creamy sheen of desire moistening her white lacy thong. John slowly pulled the unbuttoned blouse down over her arms to reveal the lacy white bra underneath. Mr Yamamoto’s polite squeaks of appreciation and the way that John surreptitiously moved in the seat to try to make room for his newly expanded cock freed her from any remaining inhibitions. He pulled the lacy bra cups down under the swell of her breasts and both men were rewarded by the sight of her flushed pink nipples.
“Beautiful,” said Mr Yamamoto.
“Would you like to touch?” asked John.
“I would be delighted to.” He eased himself closer on the couch and reverently weighed each breast with his hands, before dropping his head and kissing each sensitive nipple in turn, licking and sucking with a delicious, practiced mouth and tongue. He tweaked one nipple cruelly between forefinger and thumb, causing her to gasp in pain and pleasure. Alex was in ecstasy, squirming on John’s lap as her pussy burned with desire. John’s breathing became heavy as he watched the other man lick and suck her breasts at close quarters.
As Mr Yamamoto continued, John obligingly pulled her tight black pencil sk
irt up over her thighs to waist level to reveal black hold-ups and that white lacy thong, damp with her juices. Mr Yamamoto sank to his knees to survey the bounty spread in front of him to be plundered. John gently pulled her thong from the top, gathering the material between her lips, before pulling the damp lacy material to one side to reveal her pussy. A brief landing strip of dark hair framed the glistening pink center. Mr Yamamoto forced her legs wider and parted her lips with his gentle hands. The gentle hands turned to prying fingers as two digits penetrated her with agonizing slowness and control, making her sigh with delight. He gently removed the fingers and licked them appreciatively before dropping his head and applying his tongue to her engorged clit. He pushed her legs yet higher and spread her ass cheeks, lapping at her tight entrance with probing tongue.
She caught John’s eye and for a brief moment was irrationally worried that her pussy juices were ruining his pinstriped trousers. But he was lost in the moment, staring raptly at Alex and drinking in every detail of what their client was currently doing to her, still dutifully holding her panties to one side. She longed for his touch.
“May I penetrate you?” asked Mr Yamamoto politely.
Alex nodded in agreement, desperate for the fullness of a cock. John deftly pulled out his wallet and handed Mr Yamamoto a condom. Alex could only watch in fascination as he unzipped his trousers and pulled out a neat, businesslike cock. He moved the foreskin up and down over the head a couple of times then ripped the packet with his teeth before pulling the rubber down over its length. Burning up with desire, her hand found its way to her own clit, where it rubbed urgently, in the same way that she often pleasured herself thinking about John.
The Mammoth Book of Erotic Stories Page 23
