Best Women's Erotica 2014

by Violet Blue

  I met Alvaro at a fetish party; I was in a long black leather gown that laced up the front and sides. He was dressed as a luchador from Mexico, only his trunks were black latex, as was the silver-streaked face mask. I asked him if he wrestled in real life as well, and he grinned behind the mask, his teeth showing the gleaming uniformity of crowns. “I wrestle and box!” he told me making a muscle with one firm bicep. “Do you like to watch?”

  “Yes,” I replied, running a finger down the center of his chest. “Yes, I do.”

  Tonight I have made Alvaro wear the scarlet singlet, boots and collar. My boys had arrived nice and early. Cody cleaned a bit, moved heavy furniture, sorted out my recyclables and updated my calendar on the computer and my phone. Alvaro roasted potatoes and eggplant and medallions of veal while his wine breathed and flan set. Cody drew my bath and left me soaking to a mix he’d programmed onto my iPod; when I got out, Alvaro met me with a warm towel and soothing almond oil to rub into my skin before I dressed for dinner.

  My boys have learned to share as well as compete. I brought them along slowly to understand that my desires cannot be filled by one man; I had to have at least two. Four would be better. But if they kept me diverted, then perhaps I could make do with only two.

  The heady port served to me after dinner was not nearly as intoxicating as the entertainment to follow. My men, facing each other, dressed as I pleased, eyeing each other warily, ready for my word to begin. Furniture had been moved to create their battleground, leaving me to recline, Roman style, their single spectator.

  “Freestyle,” I finally said. It might have been Greco-Roman, collegiate or grappling. Alvaro had started judo classes; Cody had taken up boxing. It was my plan to be able to watch them in a mixed martial arts matchup. It was my dream to offer them up as a team against some other gladiatorial-minded collector of fighting men. One day, I will find someone else, I’m sure. In the meantime—they will wrestle for me.

  Freed from a formal first position, they each feinted forward immediately, then danced lightly back. Neither one was fool enough to fall for the feint; I found it delightful. I sipped my sweet port and nodded as I watched them circle each other, shoulders hunched, eyes darting, hands flexing.

  Cody made the first real move, charging forward in a spear, trying for a double leg pin. But it was far too early and Alvaro turned aside easily and grabbed for Cody’s shoulder, propelling him farther and faster and straight down to the floor. Cody hit with a slight stumble and in an instant Alvaro was on top of him looking for a pin.

  But Cody was wiry-strong and flexible; he twisted and squirmed and got one elbow braced and bucked back; I could see the tension all through his arms as he put all his strength into pushing Alvaro off of his back. He kicked out one leg and caught Alvaro between his, and in an instant, he rolled and knocked Alvaro off. Pulling his limbs in like a shocked tortoise, he rolled backward and leapt up in a gymnast’s move that made me applaud with glee.

  Alvaro shot an arm out to try and grab Cody’s ankle, but Cody leapt out of the way and then dived down to throw his body against Alvaro’s. Alvaro was trying to rise, and Cody’s lighter form slammed against his bowed back, but Alvaro didn’t even pause. Cody scrambled to try and grab an ankle, an elbow, but his moves were in vain. Alvaro simply rose to his knees with Cody still draped around him; he reached out and back and found Cody’s slender arm and one leg and twisted and grunted and brought the younger man up and then threw him down onto his back!

  Oh, bravo, I thought, my eyes wide and my thighs wet. Yes, pin him now, press him down, flatten him! Did I cry out loud? Sometimes I did. Sometimes, it all stayed in my head, along with the roars of the stadium behind me.

  They squirmed and struggled together. Alvaro’s buttocks shook and clenched as he tried to pin the ever-moving sinuous body beneath him. Cody planted his boots and arched his back and then brought one knee up sharply, slamming Alvaro in the hip.

  “Caralho!” Alvaro exclaimed with a tooth-baring grimace. In flinching, he lost his hold on Cody’s legs and the lithe younger man twisted like an eel and sprang back, panting.

  “Yeah, fuck you too,” Cody snarled.

  Alvaro darted forward to grab one of Cody’s legs, but he was off balance and breathing hard. Cody hip-checked him and tried a toss, but Alvaro’s weight and strength didn’t allow for an easy lift. Cody gasped as his lift failed and Alvaro laughed and shoved his back against Cody’s chest, crowding him toward the center of the room. Cody took the shove and was already slightly off balance when Alvaro elbowed his way inside his defenses and slammed him down hard onto his back, Alvaro splayed over him.

  Alvaro didn’t stay there, though; he hammered that elbow back one more time, forcing the breath from Cody’s mouth, and then turned and grabbed him and lifted one leg while pressing his shoulder down.

  “One,” I said idly, running a finger down the front of my blouse. My nipples were hard enough to ache. “Two…”

  Cody tried kicking, he tried squirming and he slapped his free arm against the floor in frustration. Baring his teeth again, he growled and fought, but Alvaro stubbornly set his muscles and weight against him and would not be moved.

  “Done!” I pronounced.

  Alvaro immediately let him go and Cody cursed, his fists tight, face flushed with the shame of being beaten, the frustration of loss. Now my own hunger grew like a wild thing; caged for the civilized courses, let free in the darkness of my fantasies. Were those tears, or beads of sweat on Cody’s pink face? Either would please me, but both made my body ache with need.

  “Again,” I said. Waiting would make my play sweeter. “Greco-Roman. Begin.”

  Quickly, they shuffled, took the first neutral position and moved in on each other looking for an arm drag. Now there could be no leg grabs, nothing below the waist. This left their clenched asses flexing under the iridescent stretching material of the singlet, their unfettered cocks and balls bundled loosely and exposed as clearly to me as though they were out and dangling. I had seen versions of the singlet with a hole for a man’s package to poke through, and had occasionally considered buying some. But there was a visual pleasure in watching their flesh so barely contained by that sheer fabric, noticing the appearance of a hard-on or the absence of one. Alvaro, I noticed, had a few drops of moisture making a darker spot on his gladiatorial uniform.

  That was because he had won. I watched them slip in and out of grips on their upper arms and shoulders, like some strange, angry dance, and selected a thin chocolate from the plate next to me. In the split second of my attention being drawn away, Cody darted in, grabbed Alvaro’s left wrist and pulled, hard, and turned in a neat, economical circle. Alvaro seemed to be able to follow through toward recovery, but then he stumbled, and Cody immediately pushed that same arm and leapt forward, adding extra force and momentum to the move. Alvaro went down so quickly all I saw was a flash of his boots, and then Cody was on top of him, spreading his arms and keeping his legs away from any pinning position.

  Such a good boy!

  “Bravo!” I finally said aloud. “Cody, take the bottom position.”

  His grin of victory quickly vanished; Alvaro was better on the bottom, having more strength. But Cody needed the practice. He got onto his hands and knees, shaking his head and blinking; Alvaro quickly got into the reverse lock position, tucked alongside Cody’s body, facing his ass. Taking a deep breath, he leaned over the younger man and locked his hands around Cody’s waist. I took a slow, deep breath. My personal porno channel was right here.

  “Begin.”

  Cody immediately seemed to go limp as he tried to pull his whole body flat to the carpeted floor. This might have lost an opponent the ability to do a simple and clean lift, but Alvaro was ready. With every muscle on his beautiful back he strained and pulled and plucked Cody up off the floor and into the air. Cody tried not to engage his legs in fighting back—if he kicked Alvaro, he’d lose right there—and in his panicked distraction could do nothing but grimace as Al
varo rotated his powerful shoulders and slammed him back onto the floor. It was a beautiful move: perfectly executed, skilled and savage.

  Did I have it in me to wait for one more pin? My nipples said no. The way the wine had gone to my head and the chocolate melting on my fingers—had I forgotten to eat it?—told me no.

  And I didn’t have to wait. They were my gladiators.

  I extended my chocolate-smeared fingers and beckoned to Alvaro. “Look what you’ve done,” I said. “Had me so mesmerized I wasted my chocolate. Clean that.” He eagerly took my fingers into his mouth and suckled and licked, panting around them as he tried to control his breathing. I withdrew them, and wiped them idly on the strap of his singlet. “Bring me three things,” I said, leaning back on one elbow. “For Cody.”

  Cody had already brought himself to his knees, his face a mask of disappointment and shame. I breathed in the scent of his body and shook my head. “You must learn to win from the bottom,” I said, pleased that he’d lost. Last time, he’d taken Alvaro down in two out of three matches before my lust declared him the winner and interrupted the match. He’d chosen a butt plug, a cock cage and a whip. Silly boy. Alvaro had liked all three.

  And he had his revenge at last. For he returned with a slightly larger toy meant for insertion—one of those vibrators that shimmied and wiggled. I had found it too distracting to use for my own pleasure and had thrown it into my toy box without remembering it for some time now. Also in his hand was a pair of clamps with weights and a blindfold.

  Oh, clever Alvaro. Now Cody wouldn’t even be able to watch.

  I beckoned to Cody and handed him the garishly colored vibrator. “I suggest you put a condom on this and lubricate it before you present your ass to me.” He nodded and whispered, “Yes, Ma’am,” before he took it and scampered off.

  “And what shall we do with you tonight?” I said aloud, rising to allow Alvaro to undress me. “What has tonight’s champion earned?”

  “A kiss?” he teased, confident and proud. His cock jutted out like a horn, stretching the thin Lycra so much I could see the wrinkles made by his foreskin. I ran a finger neatly along each strap of the singlet and they fell down his arms and the garment bunched around the bottom of his ass. He drew my blouse off gently and unzipped my skirt.

  Cody sucked in a breath as he came back into the room on his hands and knees. The controller box for the vibrator was tucked behind one of the straps of his singlet. So, he was being a clever boy as well!

  Right then, I could have fucked them both. But rules were rules, especially when they were my rules. Cody lost. And now, he would suffer.

  So he only saw my nakedness for a few seconds before I strapped the blindfold on. Then I put him on his knees with a pillow up between his legs to help keep that vibrator where it was so snugly fitted. I put a clamp on each nipple and then clipped a weight, letting them bounce lightly in my fingers before releasing them. Then, my own touch, I used the thin cord I kept around just for occasions such as these and put a slipknot around the head of his cock. Disgraced or not, it was semi-hard, full of blood and stiffening at my slightest touch. Pulling it free of the singlet, I pressed the pale, curved column against his stomach and placed the end of my little cock leash in his teeth.

  “Don’t lose that,” I whispered to him, as I found the controller box for the vibrator. I switched it on and heard the tiny little engine inside start to buzz. Cody jerked as it moved inside him and moaned around the cord in his teeth.

  “Next time, you will fight harder,” I said, not sure whether it was a command, a threat or an observation. Then I turned back to Alvaro.

  “So, gladiator, have you earned the right to pleasure me?” I asked. I stood over him like the conqueror I was—owner of male flesh and bone, director of my own games. He looked up at me from his knees, his eyes bright and cock rampant.

  “Keep that nice and hard,” I cautioned him, as I slipped back onto my couch, one knee up, one leg down. I spread myself wide for him, a reward and a command and a threat and a promise. “Kiss me now, champion. Kiss me until I am ready to use that weapon you’ve got there and maybe I’ll allow you a victory orgasm yourself tonight.”

  He crawled forward, even though he could have risen; he bowed his head to me one more time before his lips and tongue approached my pussy. He kept his hands away, one no doubt on that rampant cock, but touched me only to give pleasure, as I had taught him. I threw my head back and turned to see poor Cody, shivering and straining, his cock harder now, his hips moving and shaking the weights on his nipples, a circle of sensation and discomfort and shame.

  I looked back and forth between the two, fortunate and tormented, rewarded and punished and both mine, all mine. My impatience rose again and I laughed in the shuddering aftershocks of my first orgasm. Reaching for a condom, I tossed it onto the floor next to the couch, then grabbed Alvaro’s hair and kept his mouth pressed against me. “Again,” I purred, in between gasps. “Again, one more time, maybe two and then my champion, maybe I’ll use that cock…”

  But there was no maybe about it. My men. My gladiators. My pleasure. I was the ultimate winner of every match, the way I always dreamed it might be.

  Now, if I could only find out where one learned to fight with a trident and a net….

  CLOSE SHAVE

  Alison Tyler

  There was no reason on earth for me to enter the barbershop. I’m a girl, after all, and this place was clearly for men only. Not that there was a sign stating the rules—one of those internationally understood outlines adorning bathroom doors. But the attitude was drenched in testosterone. In the window, a cactus grew obscenely out of a ceramic pair of pants—a prickly penis, if you will. Old Playboys died faded deaths on the sun-drenched table. Shiny retro barber chairs stood in a row like good little soldiers.

  But none of that mattered.

  I only wanted him.

  Whenever I closed my eyes, there he was. A relic, like those chairs. Good looking in an old-fashioned way that suited the place. He had black, slicked-back hair. Sailor Jerry tattoos on his forearms. A razor strop hanging from his station. He did men’s cuts and shaves. With a fluffy brush and warm towels. Like in the old days—old days long before he was born.

  I had no reason to enter the barbershop, but I stepped inside when I knew he’d be by himself. I’d walked by the shop often enough to have memorized the hours he worked.

  He glanced around helpfully. Obviously, I’d come into the wrong place. I couldn’t be looking for my boyfriend or husband because there was nobody else there. I couldn’t be looking for a cut, because I was a woman. That’s what his eyes told me in the split second of silence between us. But I took a deep breath and sat in his chair.

  “Ma’am—” he started.

  “Oh no. Don’t ‘ma’am’ me,” I said quickly. “I’m not married.”

  “Miss—” he tried next.

  I shook my head. “Miss” was too young. Too girly. And here I was, about to ask for a shave.

  “We’re not one of those…those unisex salons.” There. He’d done his job. He’d warned me off. He waited for me to climb out of his chair, apologize for my error, be on my way.

  “I don’t want unisex,” I said, “but I do want sex.”

  He met my eyes in the mirror. I didn’t look away.

  “I’m here by myself,” he said.

  “I don’t want to fuck the two old guys,” I told him, explaining what I thought was obvious. “I want to fuck you.”

  He had to laugh. “Those old guys are my dad and my uncle.”

  “Then it’s a good thing they’re not here,” I said. “Or maybe I’d get you in trouble.” I eyed the strop. He saw where I was looking.

  “I wouldn’t be the one to get in trouble,” he said. “You’re talking like a girl who needs to be taken out behind the woodshed.”

  Those words let me know I’d chosen correctly. This was the right man. He would give me what I needed. But then he looked at the clock on the w
all above the mirrors and said, “You have to go.”

  I didn’t budge. I had saved up all my self-confidence for this moment. I was not leaving without the correct change.

  He licked his lip. He was wavering. I could feel his will begin to shake.

  “I’ve seen you,” he said.

  I nodded. “Twice a day. When I walk that way to work.” I pointed. “And that way home.”

  “You always glance inside.”

  “Always,” I agreed.

  “Come back later. Tonight. Nine o’clock.”

  I slid out of the chair. Then I leaned up on my tiptoes and kissed him. There was that cactus erection in the window, men’s magazines featuring girls who had gotten their implants long before I’d lost my training wheels, and then there were the two of us. He kissed me back, almost in spite of himself, and said. “You have to go.”

  “I’ll see you at nine. For my shave.”

  I winked at him before hurrying from the shop.

  I’d been planning this tryst for months. I’d learned everything I could about Tommy. I knew he wasn’t seeing anyone. My coworker Chelsea was friendly with his sister. She had told me about the women he dated. Those goody-two-shoes types who fit the cookie-cutter mold of what ladies’ magazines tell us of how women are supposed to behave. That wasn’t me. I’d never be one of them. I’d given up trying a long time ago.

  But I knew I was his type. His real type. All I wanted was for him to spread shaving cream all over my pussy and zip away the fur with a razor. I wanted to feel the warm towels after. And then—oh yes—I wanted to feel his tongue.

  Chelsea had told me he only dated girls his family approved of. Chelsea insisted I would never get that nod of approval. I didn’t care about any of that. I only wanted him.