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PINK: An Orchid House Tale
By Sophie Peele
Copyright 2014 Sophie Peele
Love me swiftly, hard and sweet
Love the pink of me, the flesh, slick, heat
Love me, crying, aching
deep
I was 20 when I discovered that my body was…different than the other girls. Up until then I’d been kind of a-sexual, I guess. Not really interested in anyone, not getting the whole “sex” thing. I didn’t date or even fool around. Puberty was still confusing, but I just didn’t have any, you know, urges.
Then I hit 20 and it was like I was one big sex nerve. Kind of literally. I wanted to hump everything in sight. Which was a challenge at work, it’s kind of frowned on to rub one out in an open office plan. I guess I could have used the bathroom, but…well, that would just guarantee I’d be useless the rest of the day.
I know what you’re thinking; multiple orgasms and horniness don’t really sound “different” from a lot of other women. Believe me, I am.
So I did what anyone with a newfound sex obsession would do: I invested in a lot of new sex toys. It was a little overwhelming at first, especially since I had no idea what I liked or what anything did. I went a little nuts that first time, spent a few hundred dollars I didn’t really have on several vibrators, a truly impressive pink dildo that could be suctioned to walls, underwater toys, and one of those old school “massagers” that looks like something straight out of Star Trek.
That first night, I made myself a bath, lit some jasmine candles and let the bubbles foam thick and soft to the brim of the tub. The bathroom mirror steamed up quickly, the lights flickering as I walked through. I wiped away the steam and looked at myself.
My face was flushed, eyes bright with excitement. I’ve never been slim, some might even say plump. I’ve got one of those hourglass figures, dipping in at the waist before curving out like a bent bow. My belly is soft, round; it feels good in your hands. I ran my hands over my breasts, full and just a little bit achy. I lightly pinched my nipples; they were hard in an instant. But I was getting ahead of myself.
I stepped into the bath, water nearly too hot. I liked it; I wanted my skin to feel almost raw. I let myself float a little in the tub, letting the heat suffuse my body. I could just see the peaks of my breasts poking out above the foam, rosy brown and still hard.
Spreading my legs I let them dangle over the edges of the tub dripping soapy water onto the floor. My hands roamed over my body under the water, swirling around my plump breasts, gently kneading my belly, then slowly gliding into my cleft. I love the feel of it, smooth from a recent waxing, slippery in the water. I let my fingers play, dipping, sliding, massaging the outer lips, then inner, then tracing around my opening with fluttery fingers.
When I finally touched my clit it was hard, swelled, more than ready to be handled. I pressed on it, the pulse of desire strong and insistent. It was time.
The first toy I took out was simple, a waterproof vibrator in a delightful pink. Under the water it gave off a soft buzz, like a beehive heard from a distance, and I giggled a little at the tickling sensation against my leg.
Then I pressed it to my bud and I stopped thinking about anything but the need to come.
The right side of my clit is more sensitive than the left and by pressing the vibrator on its strongest setting against the firm head on that side, I could ride a wave of orgasms that was like sailing during a hurricane. My body became a tight, bowed string, always on the edge, always falling, cresting, crashing, spiraling up and up. Every orgasm felt new, better, stronger, than the last. And every one made me want more.
During this marathon of coming is when my body made its change. My clit grew, blooming, unfolding like a flower, delicate and desperate for touch. Then my vagina split in two. It craved more stimulation than I could give it with my limited limbs and toys. I gave it a shot, though.
I didn’t stop until the bath water became cold and I realized I must have been in there for two hours. I was a pale wrinkly prune when I stepped out, shaky legged and possibly hornier than I’d been when I started. I dried off, shuddering as my hands touched even near my vulva.
Next I tried a two-fold toy, clitoral and vaginal stimulation. I came even faster, even harder, but the results were the same. I wanted more. Always more. And my blooming cunt never felt fulfilled.
Finally, as the wee early hours dawned, I fell into an exhausted sleep, gently petting the petals of my aching sex. I knew we needed something more, but what partner could possibly fulfill this strange and perplexing anatomical shifting? What kind of partner would embrace this odd body of mine, not be repulsed by its alien cravings?
I slept uneasily, unsure of what to do or if there was any kind of real relief for someone like me.
The next few months were a study in failure. I tried out different partners, men and women, and all were disasters. If my body didn’t outright terrify them, it confused and daunted them. Everyone was polite about it, even apologetic. That made it worse. Work was a daily slog, boring and demoralizing. I started to wonder if this was all life had to offer.
Finally, during an ill-advised bout of drinking and online forum perusing, I stumbled across mention of an unusual brothel in the Red Light District of Amsterdam. It was called Orchid House, which sounded average enough. But the more I read on it the more I discovered that it was anything but average. According to rumor Orchid House catered to a very special kind of clientele, toward people looking for the strange and unusual sexually. Since I am strange and unusual sexually, I did as much research as I could.
And then I booked a flight.
I was pretty nervous when I walked up the steps to the door, watching the orchid in the red-lit window blooming, pulsing and pink. It was hypnotic. When the door opened to reveal a lovely woman of indeterminate middle age, long auburn hair backlit and wavy, I almost ran.
She introduced herself as Alonna, tucked my arm into hers, and led me to a cozy little office. I answered her matter of fact questions in a daze, still too shocked I had come all this way, let alone seemed to be going through with this whole paying for sex thing.
Once I finished explaining my little quirk, I expected to be told, politely, that there was nothing they could do and I had come all this way and spent all this money for nothing.
Instead, Alonna smiled, nodded, and told me she had just the courtesan.
The next thing I knew I was in a lovely pink room being handed a drink by the most beautiful man I had ever seen. His name was Matthew, he was tall and slimly muscled, and he had long dark hair that swept his shoulder blades. His mouth curved into the sweetest smile and his eyes, dark and kind, sparkled with humor. We chatted awhile but I don’t really remember any of it. I still couldn’t believe any of it was happening.
“Would you liked to get undressed, or should I undress you?” Matthew said, taking my drink and sitting next to me on the bed. I flushed, feeling nervous and uncertain.
“I…I’m not sure. I still kind of can’t believe this is happening.” I said.
“It is. And I have to say, I’m glad Alonna picked me. You’re incredible, Krista.” He almost purred my name, running a hand down my back with lazy confidence.
“So are you.” I looked him in the eyes then and he smiled. Then, slowly, he drew me into a warm, soft, eager kiss. Out tongues met and I knew everything was going to be all right.
After that, I was ready to get this party started, so to speak.
“Why, Krista. You’re beautiful.” Said Matthew as he unbuttoned my shirt and let my breasts spill over the top of my bra and into his long fingered hands. He bent his head and nuzzled them, sending off fuzzy sparks that gave me goose bumps. I fumbled with the front of his pants, feeling his hardness beneath and something…more than hardness. Between my legs got very hot and slick.
In a deft move Matthew popped the remaining but
tons of my shirt, scattering them. I laughed, feeling wild and desired. He held my breasts in his palms and then roughly licked the nipples, tasting and teasing them.
“Lick me.” I said, pulling my skirt up to reveal my smooth vulva, no underwear. He grinned and buried his face there, tongue going directly for the bud.
“Mm. Sweet.” He said, sucking and licking, hands parting my lower lips so he could wrap his lips around me entirely. I groaned, arching, already about the come. He slid a finger inside me and I cried out, shuddering and spiraling over the edge, inner muscles clenching as his tongue flicked across my greedy bud.
“So responsive. This is going to be so much fun.” He said from between my legs, kissing my inner thigh and rubbing his light stubble affectiionately across the skin.
“More.” I said, hot and aching and craving everything he had to offer. I didn’t know how this lovely man with the sparkling eyes could quench my desire but I wanted to find out.
I was definitely about to.
He stepped back from me, smiling down, his own face a bit flushed, lips fuller and swelled a bit from loving me.
“Watch me.” He said. His dark shirt came off to reveal a defined chest and abs that were cut into a long, lickable v. I wanted to kiss it.
“Ready?” he said, huskily. I nodded, eager, excited, and a little unsure of what to expect.
I was not disappointed.
Matthew’s pants came off in a silky motion and his cock was revealed in it’s large, splendid, glory. Or I should say BOTH his cocks were revealed, for he had two. They were large, thick, and curved upwards, circumcised and beautiful. They looked like the twin stamen of a flower, or the stingers of a bee. I knew where I wanted them, I could feel where they would fit perfectly.
“Oh, fuck.” I breathed as my body immediately responded, my clit blooming, my vagina dividing.
“Spread your legs wide, Krista. It’s time.” He said walking towards me, cocks bouncing jauntily. I smiled and spread my legs, revealing my strange, but now suddenly not quite so strange, sex.
“Krista…” Matthew said on a sigh, his voice reverent. I let my legs fall open completely, open to him, breathing hard.
“You are sublime.” He said, and mounted me, sliding both of his cocks home in a powerful thrust. I bowed off the bed, mouth open on a silent yell, my body full and complete in a way it had never been before. The heads of his cock pressed firmly against my inner walls creating a delicious, heady friction.
He pulled me up to sit astride him as he claimed my mouth, withdrawing slowly before gliding back in. I groaned from deep down, clutching at his shoulders, rocking my hips in a steady rhythm.
“Oh. Oh my. God. Oh god.” I said, feeling everything as though I was riding a nerve of pleasure. My flowery clit was seeking attention and Matthew pushed me back so I could watch as he brought fingers to it and rubbed. The petals of my clit folded over his finger hungrily and I shuddered, mesmerized by our strange bodies that fit so well.
“Let it come, Krista. You won’t tire me out. I can fuck you for as long as you need. Let it go. Come for me.” He said and bit my neck, sweeping his free hand down my back, between my buttocks, to caress the sensitively stretched skin of my openings.
I gave over then, all control, all expectation, all shame and doubt.
The feel of him inside me was so fine, so full and freeing. He rubbed my clit and I came. He stroked his cocks inside me and I came. He flipped me over, entered my vaginas, then slid a long finger into my ass, and I came with a high cry.
He never tired. He never lost his hardness, he came and his cum rand down my leg, over my buttocks, across my lower back, but he never broke rhythm. I had met my match and we used each other, milked each other, of pleasure and more pleasure, of waves of orgasms shuddering high, until we were both wrung out.
That night was long and glorious. We slept awhile, then began again. He sipped at my cunt, tonguing it, stroking his long fingers inside me until I flowered again. Then he entered me, lazily, going excruciatingly slow. His hips pumped in bursts and my orgasms flamed, killing me softly with each hot pulse. I wept a little, it was so good.
We collapsed in a sweaty, sticky heap eventually, giggling with spent energy and high on post orgasmic bliss. I kissed Matthew, finally sated. At least for a while.
“Krista, that was incredible.” He said, letting me rest my head on his chest.
“Oh, please. I bet you say that to all the girls.”
“No, there are no other girls like you. Like there are no other boys like me. I can service people’s fantasies usually, but I’ve never been with someone who was physically made as if for me.” He stroked my hair. I thought awhile before answering. And what I said surprised me.
“Do you like working here?” I asked, looking up into those sparkling dark eyes.
“I love it. I doubt I’d get along too well out there, as I am.” He said, running a finger along my cheek.
“Do you think there could be a place here for me?” I asked, realizing what I wanted and was going to ask only as I did. And then realizing it felt exactly right.
“Oh, yes. I definitely do.” Matthew laughed, holding me close.
These days I get up in the afternoon, have a lazy breakfast with Matthew, and then we fuck until it’s time for us to go to work. Sometimes that’s even together; you’d be amazed at how useful we are during an orgy.
I’ve learned that Matthew loves to have his prostrate stroked while I take his cocks deep inside me. He’s learned that I love a little spanking with my cunnilingus. We’ve learned that our bodies are perfect machines for pleasuring each other until we’re drunk on it, stupidly sated by sex.
And if you’re ever in Amsterdam, you should come to the Red Light District and the unassuming looking Orchid House. We have the only window without a woman, just a flower, always in bloom. Ask for Krista. You won’t regret a night with me. Satisfaction guaranteed.
End
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For more strange sex tales from Sophie Peele, check out:
Orchid House 1: Satisfaction http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00JV8V1TQ
Spanking Beauty 1-5 http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00HRH19Y0
http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00HUVCIF2
http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00HZCQ8UM
http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00IFEUYOA
http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00JTO1PKM
Vampire Voyeur 1 & 2 http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00IAD5ITW
http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00IU69OAS
Desire’s Howl : World of Nightshade http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00I3U8KRY
Follow @SophiePeele on Twitter and Goodreads!
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THE BEST MAN’S WIFE
(in which I’m taken by the bachelor and all his buddies)
By Q. R. Braddock
Shit! Are strippers even allowed to cancel?
In just over a week, Ian was getting married. After two years of wild and passionate courtship, he and Kristin had finally chosen to tie the knot. Wonderful, and we all looked forward to being there.
But first he was to get shitfaced drunk with his buddies and watch a pretty girl get naked. At least, that had been the plan until the party organizer found herself short a stripper. That’d be me, by the way. The organizer, not the stripper.
You might wonder why the wife of Ian’s best friend and not, say, his actual best friend, was doing all the work. Hell if I know, other than that Rob couldn’t organize his way out of a paper bag. He’s sweet and loving, but when push comes to shove, I do the pushing while he cheers softly at the sidelines.
So I’d sent out invitations, rented space at a party house, prepared an epic pub run, arranged a cake and of course a stripper to step out of it. All this for a guy I rarely saw. He and Rob had studied together, but ended up at opposite coasts after graduating. But old friendships stick, so now Rob was the best man and I was doing the legwork. Anyway, I’d been managing just fine until the stripper canceled.
According to her agency the fl
u was to blame, which I supposed was fair enough. It’s hard to put on a sexy performance huddled up in a wool blanket and blowing your nose. I got that. But what I didn’t get was that it seemed to be high season for strippers or something. Neither that agency, nor any of the others that I’d found had anyone else available on two day’s notice. It was a stripper crisis, and to save the party I’d have to come up with something, and quick!
The next night I found myself in bed and the stripper situation still loomed over me. Saturday was only a few hours away, and I’d wracked my brain looking for a solution. Who could I ask? Friends, colleagues and neighbors were right out. Maybe a stranger? How do you ask someone to be a stripper for a bachelor party anyway? Oh, so glad to hear your kids are doing well in school. Listen, I’ve got a favor to ask you. I sighed. Right.
So here I was, next to Rob, fully awake and my eyes roaming the dark bedroom. What the hell I was supposed to do? I wasn’t the panicking type, but these were extraordinary circumstances. Think, think, think!
Rolling over onto my side, I sensed the bed shift as Rob sidled carefully over to spoon. His pecker poked gently at my ass, a hint subtle as the Pearl Harbor bombings. I sighed. Fine. At least it’ll take my mind off it. Frustrated as I was, blowing off some steam sounded good. I pushed my ass back at him, capturing his dick between my thighs and pressing it to my clit with my fingers. Rocking back and forth, he rubbed against me, making my juices start to flow.
His hand slipped under my arm and cupped one of my breasts. After years of marriage, he knew exactly how to get me going. Soft strokes across my skin calmed and excited at the same time. Each time he gave my nipples those little pinches I loved, my engine revved a little more.
Sin: Alpha Males and Taboo Tales (The Naughty List Bundles Volume Three) Page 14
