by Violet Blue
“How are you so sure?” I breathe through a moan.
Abby only laughs lightly though my hair. “My sweet Marcella, I know.”
All week, I can’t wait until class. Now he’s not a couple of hundred feet away. He’s so close I could touch him.
“Hey, you’re pretty good.” My recent obsession has a voice, a deep relaxed Brooklyn flavor rounding his syllables. I nod at him as he dangles next to me twenty-five feet in the air.
“I have a really good teacher.”
“Yeah, Abby is pretty badass.” He tries not to be obvious, but I can tell he’s checking me out, his eyes lingering just a few seconds on the way my ass looks hanging out of my harness. I follow his gaze and he looks away.
I dig my toe into a hold and leverage myself farther up the wall. “It’s okay, my girlfriend is always saying my ass looks great suspended above her.”
He doesn’t skip a beat, following me higher. “Your girlfriend?”
“Abby.” I wave down at her, and she waves back.
He looks down and then back at me. “She’s right. Lucky woman.”
“Her or me?”
“Both, I guess.”
“I’m Marcella.”
“Brett. I’d shake but my hands are a bit occupied at the moment.” His smile is a good substitute. “I’ve never seen you in class before.”
“I’m usually at work, but Abby insisted I call out sick today.”
“Oh yeah, why?”
“I’ll let her tell you.” With that I tug on my safety rope and start repelling down to Abby, who’s been watching our interaction from below.
Brett follows, curiosity thinly disguised on his face.
It’s the end of class and the rest of the students are making their departures. Brett thanks his spotter and lingers, stretching his muscular arms behind his back.
“Plenty loosened up now, Brett?” Abby asks him.
“I feel like I’m just getting started.” He tilts his head. “What, do you have some kinda tricked-out new route to put me up against?”
“Something like that…if you’re up for it.” Abby sidles up next to me and slides her hand over my ass. “I see you’ve met my Marcella.”
I can’t help the way my tongue is dancing across my bottom lip. Abby has started running laps around my asscheek with her finger.
“Yeah, we met.” Brett seems to know there’s more to that statement. He taps his heel a few times and shifts his weight. I can see the vein in his neck swell as he swallows.
“She’s a handful—a real firecracker if you give her a chance to warm up,” Abby continues, drawing things out further. Even I’m starting to get anxious.
“I can see how that could be true,” Brett says, smiling in my direction.
“What if I told you that sometimes I could use some help… with her?”
Brett shifts his weight just slightly, tipping his head with a measure of disbelief. “You’re fucking with me, right?”
Abby smiles at him like a dragon about to shock and awe. “Brett, I think you know by now that in this gym, it’s all about the work. I don’t play around.”
He returns her surly stare with his own. I notice how his eyes look suddenly smoky in the intensity of the moment. Abby can make things get serious in a heartbeat. She has that way about her that tells everyone she lives in a no bullshit zone. She’s smirking now. “See this is my problem. Marcella thinks I fuck like a girl.”
“Abby!” I can’t believe how she blurted that out.
Abby folds her arms. “Do you want to help her make a comparison?”
“Oh my god!” I gasp, hiding behind my hands.
Abby plows forward despite my mortification. “This is the last class tonight. I can lock the door.”
Brett doesn’t look shocked. Even if he is, he’s way too cool for that. He looks amused. “You want me to do your girlfriend. Right here.”
“Do you want to…do my girlfriend?” Abby sweeps her hand across my shoulder and guides my ponytail away from my neck. She’s nibbling in the spot that makes me giggle. Only I’m not giggling. I open my mouth and exhale the breath I’ve been holding in one long shaky moan.
“Does she want to?” he asks, and I suddenly realize that I haven’t said anything to make him know that this isn’t just her idea.
I’ve been frozen in place, watching them discuss the matter. It takes a gentle squeeze of my ass from Marcella to encourage me to speak my mind. “I, uh…think you’re pretty sexy.” One foot in front of the other and I’m standing directly in front of him. “Yeah, I want to.” My hand floats to the emblem on his chest and traces the outline of the FDNY Maltese cross printed there. His chest is firm under my touch, and he doesn’t move away. I can’t wait to see him naked, up close and in person. But I need to come clean first. “We live across the street from you…and you leave the shades up a lot.”
Brett looks at me quizzically. I watch his face change as he settles on a response. “You’ve been watching me, huh? Watching me do what?”
I know I can say it. Abby tilts her head, and her eyes are narrow on me like a spear. “I watch you jerk off.”
He presses his lips together and nods slowly, his expression disarmingly placid. “And you want to give me something to think about for the next time.”
I shrug, losing my voice again.
Abby slaps my ass. “You tell him what you want, chica.”
“I want…to see it.”
There’s a simmering smirk on his face now, as he removes his gloves. “What do I get to see?”
Abby slips her arms around me from behind and pinches my nipples through my sports tank. “Just let me lock the door.”
She leaves me standing there, still feeling the electricity she sparked running across my chest. He’s watching me keenly, pulling slowly at the strings that affix his shorts to his waist. I stand there acquainting my teeth with the flesh of my bottom lip.
I sense Abby returning and turn to watch what she will do; her dark hair is now free from the bandana she’d been wearing. It falls seductively in her face, her eyes looking feral, her hips swaying with saucy confidence as she approaches. She doesn’t hesitate. She reaches for my cheeks and plants her mouth squarely on mine in mid-step. Then she crosses between us and grabs the folding chair in the corner of the gym. I can’t stop my cheeks from burning, already guessing what she has planned.
When Abby takes a seat, she does so with languid grace. Her back is stretched proud, her long neck squaring her head firmly in place. All so her eyes can burn straight to my core. She pats her lap two times in a quick repeat. I take a hesitant step and she smiles.
“Come here, chica.”
Brett is watching this dance play out between us. His lip twitches just slightly as I sashay toward my girlfriend. It’s not just her wanton glare that has heat prickling up my spine. Brett is just as invested in what will come next, and I love the way he’s licking his chops.
The chair is front and center and Abby reaches her hand out to my hip, guiding me with little effort to lie across her lap. I feel like a rag doll, my arms dangling toward the floor as I struggle to keep an eye on Brett. Abby’s hand eases into my crotch, toying with my clit through the thin Lycra fabric of my shorts. My mouth falls open at the sensation. My eyes widen at the sight of Brett’s thick cock sliding in his hand.
Abby peels the elastic band down my ass, and her fingers sample the evidence of my hunger. “Sweet Marcella,” she whispers in my ear and presses into me slowly, then pulls out to show me what she’s found. I love the way her fingers glisten. Next she will have a taste, she always does.
A low rumble erupts out of Brett when her fingers reach her mouth. I watch the satisfaction dawn on Abby’s face as she sucks every drop. My ass wiggles with a silent request and her fingers are in me once again, and again, and again.
It’s not enough that she’s pumping me so fast I can’t keep the moans from flying free from my lips; Brett’s beautiful cock has me locked into a
singular thought, looping in everlasting redundancy. Fuck me.
“What did you say, chica?”
Have I said that out loud? I take a breath and stare directly at him. “I want you to fuck me.”
Brett’s hands are on me in less than a flash. He looks at me with a critical eye, judging my reaction. No one could blame him for questioning if this is for real. I hardly believe it myself. But my patience is running thin and my pussy is begging to know if he feels as good as he looks. “I want it.”
Abby fishes in her pocket. “Give my baby what she wants, Brett.”
He takes the condom, ripping the foil with his teeth and rushing it onto his shaft. Taking a handful of my shorts and tearing them farther down my legs, he’s right where I want him.
Abby caresses my cheek with the back of her fingers and then pulls the hem of my shirt up to ensure it isn’t in the way of her view. Her feathery strokes dance up and down my spine, and the anticipation is taking me to another planet.
But the way Brett takes possession of my hips brings me back. He’s here, now, ready to enter me with the cock I’ve coveted from afar. The pure notion, the mere idea is more than I could have wished for. Abby’s gift is poised behind me, ready to be just the amount of fantasy I need, just the right amount of man to satisfy my craving, my derelict desire. His fingers are daggers in my flesh, searing-hot pinches that are going to leave a mark. This won’t resemble the uncertain fumbling of an overanxious college sophomore. I think Brett means to make a lasting impression on my body.
It’s not just the way his cock eases past my shorts and laps at my pussy that’s making me whimper. It’s the look on Abby’s face as he does that has me sucking down a shaky breath. Even as he presses forward, filling me with the delicious pairing of his rugged need and sinuous flow, I am captivated by the words on Abby’s lips. “Mmm…chica, you like that, don’t you?”
She wraps her fist with my tank top, cinching it against my skin like a harness. Her grip on me is strong, and she knows it. “You didn’t answer me.”
“I…ahh…” I can’t seem to form the words.
Brett bottoms out within my cunt. His thighs are hot against mine as he remains there, lingering in place, still like a threat. “Speak, Marcella,” he says with a firmness that curls my toes inside my sneakers.
“It’s good, so good,” I croak.
He seems satisfied with my answer and pounds the sentiment home, the rest popping from my open mouth with each beat of his hips against my ass. “So—good—oh—my—god.”
Maybe it’s the slip-slide of him, hot like lava flowing in and out of me, that is making me moan his name. A real live boy is so much hotter than a dildo, no matter how perfectly selected for my pleasure it is. Brett squeezes my hips and rakes his pelvis against my ass as he dives deeper than he has before. I feel absorbed by him, melting around his cock as it thumps with arousal inside of me. He blows out a long soft breath, tickling my ear. “Sweet.”
Abby kisses my forehead. “Yes you are, chica. Very sweet.” She taps me at the base of my spine three times in quick procession. “Up now. I want to lick you.”
Brett eases away on Abby’s request without a measure of complaint. The look on his face is expectant, but not demanding. It’s clear to both of us that this is Abby’s game. She’s the one making the rules.
All I have to do is stand; she puts me where she wants me. Against the rock wall, arms high, catching holds in my grip, I catch a glimpse of her over my shoulder before she lowers herself to her knees. It’s the look on her face that makes me prop my ass up. She looks hungry. Her hands are between my thighs, opening my legs like she’s parting a curtain. We’re onstage all right. Brett is fixated, sitting now in the chair next to us with his cock gleaming in his fist. It makes me wetter to see my juices on him, to know that Abby has shared some of her goodies with him.
Then her tongue finds its way between my folds with a flat needy lap of my slit. I hear her sigh with a gritty rasp at the tail. My stomach does a flip-flop and she returns to the place she finds so tasty. It’s all cool air and hot caresses down there as she lathers my clit with her tongue. My pussy clenches with the need to be filled. Abby gives me her finger, and I whimper.
“You want more?” She adds a third finger and twists them like a corkscrew. “You want his fat cock again?”
“Yes.” For her information I’ll make sure she knows how much. “Please, Abby. Let me have it.”
Abby slides herself underneath me, propping her head against the rock wall and draping her arms around my hips. She speaks, though not to me. “What are you waiting for?”
I can hear him huff a chopped snicker. “Say no more.” His large hands are on me in mere seconds. I intentionally don’t look, wanting to be surprised by the moment he will take me again…borrow me again.
He rakes my cheeks apart, lifting them, looking. Abby also has a perfect view of my slit as he presses into it. Only I am left in the dark, my eyes closed shut tight. Shhhiittt. My brain is trying to remember to breathe when she lands her tongue on my clit and slides it forward to where Brett’s cock is buried inside me.
This is more than I’d asked for. This is the apex of pleasure, the best of both.
My fingernails scratch against the resin holds as I beg them to keep me upright. Legs trembling, sweat beading on my brow, though my real workout has ended with the oddest cooldown I’ve ever experienced. Brett is just getting started. His body is pressed against mine, blanketing me in his masculine scent while his cock makes acquaintance with my deepest recesses. Abby’s busy mouth on my clit reveals her concentration. This is for me, all for me. I wanted dick, and she provided. I can only thank her by coming, hard, with a deluge of gratitude and love.
When it is time, Abby knows it. Maybe it’s the sound of my moans, climbing an octave for every new thrust. This is her cue. “Give her to me,” she demands and Brett pulls out, leaving me to pour my orgasm into Abby’s open mouth. As my insides crash together, Brett’s warm wet streaks crisscross my ass and scurry down the back of my thigh.
“There now, bella chica.” Abby pats her hand against my pussy and it splashes like a rain puddle. “You get what you wanted?”
I can’t help but smile at Brett over my shoulder. “You were even better than I imagined.”
He takes the compliment with a shrug. “Any time you want me, Marcella. I’ll be there live and in person.”
Abby pulls me down to the mat, and I curl into her open arms. She tosses him his pants. “Just don’t go installing shades. You’re Marcella’s favorite show.”
He laughs at that and fixes the drawstring on his warm-ups. “Same time next week?”
Abby nods and kisses my temple. “Don’t be late. I got a new course planned.” The wink of her eye makes me wonder if I’ll need another excuse to get out of bartending. “It should be a hell of a workout.”
GENTLEMAN’S VALET
Sommer Marsden
My first thought was that it was ugly.
“I see that look,” George said. “I know that look.”
“Oh really?” I circled what was possibly the world’s ugliest chair. “What do I know? Antiques are your deal. Not mine.”
“Do you know what it is?”
“An…um…torture device?”
I couldn’t help but laugh as I ran my hand over the small wooden shelf at the top. Where a person’s head would normally be if he were seated in a normal chair was this little ledge with a groove. Below that hung a wooden hanger on a hook and then lower down was the seat itself. George moved past me and lifted the seat to reveal a space inside.
“This is a Gentleman’s Valet.”
“I thought that was a person,” I teased, touching the wooden hanger on the hook just to watch it swing.
“If there’s wealth involved it can be. But in the workingman’s case, even a mildly well-to-do man’s, it’s this chair.”
George took my hand in his much bigger one and ran my fingers over the smooth gro
oved shelf.
“This is for your tie clips. Your cuff links. Your change. Your lighter…”
His lips kissed the back of my neck, and I almost shivered.
“This is where you can hang your shirt.” He touched the wooden hanger. “Maybe your jacket. Drape your tie around it.”
His fingers trailed down the nape of my neck, tracing a fine line of sparks along the curve of my shoulder.
“Oh,” I managed.
He indicated the seat. “This is where a man could keep anything else he needed. Maybe a pair of socks. His wallet. Keys. Or just anything he wanted to keep stashed.”
He bent over, tugging my hand so I bent too. He put his hand in the compartment. I put my hand in the compartment. As I mimicked him, his free hand caressed the swell of my ass.
“Or maybe,” George went on, “his girly magazines.”
I smiled.
“Condoms. Handcuffs…” His hand caressed my ass again. “A paddle.”
I tried not to react in any way that would give away the rampant arousal coursing through me.
“You think?” I said.
“I have plans for this little beauty,” he said. His hand made another territorial sweep of my ass, and I wondered if he meant the chair or me.
“Yes? What’s that?”
“Go take off your dress, Jess.”
I laughed because it rhymed.
“I’m not kidding. Go get undressed and come back here to me. I’ve had this chair for two weeks in the garage.”
“And you only brought it in here today because…” I realized I was holding my breath.
“Because I have today off and have shut off my phone. I have you and this chair and we’re alone.” He tapped my bottom with a stiff hand. “I won’t ask again. Go take off your dress.”
I hurried away. My legs felt as if they were going to buckle on me in the next heartbeat. Or maybe the one after that.
