Radical Encounters

by Radclyffe

  We went through the bar and down a hallway and into another room. The only music now was the grunts and cries and moans of people fucking and coming. Jerry paused for a second, then said, “Over here.”

  He led me toward the far side where a leather sling hung from the ceiling by chains. A young blond guy with smooth pale skin reclined in the sling with his head thrown back and his legs bent up to his body while a dark-haired guy whose face I couldn’t see stood between his legs, a fist up the blond’s ass and the other hand jerking the blond’s jutting cock. The guy doing the fucking was slender with finely muscled shoulders and a hairless back that tapered into a narrow waist, and he wore nothing but chaps that left his high, round ass exposed. His sweaty skin glowed beneath the lights as he rotated his forearm in the blond’s ass and worked his cock like a piston.

  The blond raised his head and stared at the hand jerking his cock, his face dazed and his stomach heaving to the beat of the fist in his guts. “I’m gonna blow,” he yelled. “I’m going to blow my fucking load.”

  The guy fisting him never stopped pumping the iron-hard dick as come arced into the air, the first shot hitting the blond in the face, the next couple spurts landing on his chest, and the last few squirts finally dribbling into little puddles on his belly. A third guy leaned over and licked up the blond guy’s come, then took two steps back and shot his own load in the blond’s face.

  “Jesus,” I whispered, my clit twitching like crazy. I needed to jerk off now more than ever and wondered if I could just go lean against the wall like a few guys I could see and get a quick shot off.

  “That’s his lover,” Jerry whispered, pointing to the guy who’d just blasted off in the blond’s face.

  “Who’s their friend?” I asked, tipping my chin toward the dark-haired guy who eased his hand out of the blond’s ass, stripped off a glove, and tossed it on the floor.

  “That’s who I want you to meet.”

  Before I could reply, the fister turned to face us and I was looking at a woman so hot I forgot all about my stiff clit and needing to jerk off. Her eyes were dark like her hair and her expression remote, as if she hadn’t just fucked some guy for an audience. She had smallish breasts about like mine and stomach muscles that were etched and pumped from the workout she’d just had. Her mons was trimmed, not shaved, and framed by her chaps, which was all she was wearing. From what I could see of her cunt, it was swollen and shining with come. If she hadn’t gotten off during the fisting, she must really need it bad now.

  “Ask her if I could please suck her off,” I said desperately to Jerry, having no idea what the correct protocol was, but I didn’t care. “Ask her, please. Anything she wants if I can just suck her clit.”

  I stood still while Jerry made his way to her and said something. Then she stared at me for a long moment before walking over. I didn’t say anything as she held open the edges of my vest and stared at my breasts. She flicked one nipple ring with a long finger.

  “Are these for show?”

  “No,” I croaked.

  She unzipped my leathers and slid her hand down my pants. I sucked in a breath as she explored my clit with one finger. After a minute of that I started to sway, but I was afraid to touch her to steady myself.

  “What do you want?” she asked, dragging her fingertip up one side of my clit and down the other, over the head and back again.

  “I want to suck you off.”

  She pulled her hand out of my pants and I fought not to whimper. “What about that pretty little hard-on you’ve got in your pants?”

  “I’d like to come for you,” I whispered. “I’d like to come for you harder than I’ve ever come for anyone.”

  “Any way I want it?”

  “Yes.”

  She gripped my wrist and dragged me through the crowd, past the sling where she’d fucked the guy, to the corner where a padded pole a foot thick ran from the floor to the ceiling. She stripped off my vest and dropped it on the floor, slammed my back up against the pole, and jerked my arms around behind it. I felt her buckle leather shackles on my wrists before she came back to face me. She yanked my pants down to my ankles and kicked my feet as far apart as they would go.

  “Is there anything you want me to know?” she said, rubbing her palms in rough circles over my breasts, bringing my nipples screaming back to life again.

  “I don’t fuck men.”

  “What else?”

  “I’m not sucking anybody’s cock.”

  “That’s it?”

  “That’s it.”

  She grabbed my face and shoved her tongue into my mouth. I couldn’t breathe so I bit her, just hard enough to make her ease back. Then I sucked her tongue until she couldn’t breathe.

  She pulled out and licked my lips like she wanted to eat them off my face, flicking her tongue into my mouth too fast for me to catch it again, although I snapped my teeth and tried. She laughed.

  “You think I’d waste these sweet lips on a cock?” She bit my lower lip and twisted my nipple rings. I whimpered. “I’m saving your mouth to come in myself.”

  Breathing fast, she rubbed her cunt on my leg. She was hot and slippery and her clit was a hard knot in the center. “I’m going to drown you in juice.”

  She kept at it, rubbing and sliding, until she shivered once, hard, and jerked away without coming. My cunt was spilling and I was drenched to my knees with her come and mine. She forked her fingers, clamped my clit in the vee, and squeezed.

  “Fuck,” I whispered, sagging against the pole.

  “You’ve got a nice fat one, don’t you?” she murmured, jacking me slowly. Too slowly to make me come but enough to make me need to so fucking bad tears leaked out of my eyes. She pinched the head with her nails and I did cry. “Poor baby. Let me make that better.”

  “Please,” I begged, all pride washed away in the sea of blood pooled in my cunt. I wondered if I was supposed to resist but I didn’t care now. I just wanted to come.

  She pulled something off the waistband of her chaps at the same time as she spread my cunt open with one hand. I couldn’t see much, but when I looked down, my clit was standing up between her fingers. Even in the dim light I could tell it was wet and the dark color it got when I was about to come. If she jacked me now, I’d shoot.

  She did and my legs started shaking and my clit got extra hurting-hard the way it did when I was ten seconds from coming.

  “I’m coming,” I said because I thought I should tell her, but she must have known because she stopped cold. “Uh uh God…I’m about to come…please.”

  “Breathe, baby,” she whispered, and before I knew what she was doing, she replaced her fingers on my clit with a two-inch spring-loaded clamp. It closed onto the shaft of my clit with a snap and the rows of blunt teeth dug in and banished the blossoming orgasm into oblivion.

  I screamed.

  “Shh, shh, shh,” she crooned, her mouth on my neck oddly gentle as she licked the sweat and tears that ran down from my face. She rubbed my lower belly, pressing into me in deep circles that somehow made the profound ache inside almost bearable. “Does it hurt, baby?”

  “Yes,” I whimpered. My cunt throbbed like someone had kicked me and needles of pain speared through my clit.

  “You’ve got a beautiful clit,” she whispered, jiggling the clamp with one finger. “Look how big you are now.”

  I bent my head and tried to see, but the tears clouded my vision. My clit pulsed between the jaws to the beat of my heart and I felt something else, something even more powerful than the pain. “I need to come.”

  She flipped the clamp back and forth. The pressure surged in my clit and my cunt opened and closed like a fist.

  “Oh fuck that’s so fucking good.”

  She gripped the clamp and twisted.

  “I want to come so bad.”

  “And I want you harder. Harder than you’ve ever been for anybody.” She pulled my nipple ring and jacked my clit with the clamp. The teeth dug into the hood and pu
lled it back and forth over the head with every tug—pleasure, pain, pleasure, pain, pleasure, pain. “Now you might be hard enough to shoot a nice load for me.”

  “I don’t think I can,” I moaned. The clit torture made me harder than I’d ever been but it wasn’t hitting me right to get me off. “I really really need to come.”

  “Watch me do you, baby.”

  I tightened my stomach and bowed forward, shaking sweat from my face so it wouldn’t run into my eyes. My clit was stretched out, impossibly swollen, the head bulging beyond the clamp. Seeing her fingers, slick with my come, tugging the clamp was too much. “Oh God you don’t know how bad I need to come. I think my clit’s gonna burst.”

  “Now it might,” she said, and pulled off the clamp.

  Blood rushed in, my clit doubled in size. The nerves in the head short-circuited from the sudden stimulation. Pain and pleasure blasted up my spine in equal measure. I thrashed and tried to get loose. I had to hold it, rub it, do something, anything, to stop the agony.

  “What’s the matter,” she whispered, fingering my nipple rings rapidly again.

  “I gotta come,” I howled. There were more people around us now, most just staring, a couple jerking off. I didn’t care about them. I didn’t care about anything except coming.

  “Let me help you.” She fingered the head and, oh God, it hurt. It was so good and it hurt and I wanted to come so much and it hurt and I couldn’t and I was fucking dying.

  “Oh Jesus, don’t touch it!” I moaned. “It’s too hard now. It hurts. Oh Jesus. Fuck.” I was blubbering, tossing my head around. I thought I might throw up.

  She seized my face again and forced me to look into her eyes. “Shut up and breathe.” She kissed me, so gently I felt like she was rocking me in her arms. “I’m gonna make you come, baby, so sweet.”

  She kept kissing me, her tongue delving deeper and deeper until I was sucking it again. Then I felt her fingers glide over my clit and my body jerked. She rubbed it and it felt so good and I moaned. She backed out of my mouth and straddled my leg, her wet cunt hot enough to burn my skin. She whimpered and I realized how long she’d been holding back.

  Some guy close to us groaned and I could hear the frenzied slap of his hand on his cock and she growled, “Shoot on the floor, cocksucker, not on her,” and he did.

  “Get ready, baby.” Then she lowered her head and took my nipple in her mouth, chewing on my nipple and tonguing the ring while she switched her grip on my clit and started to jack me. With so much stimulation happening everywhere at once—her cunt, her fingers, her mouth—the pain in my tortured clit didn’t prevent the orgasm from building this time. My clit couldn’t get any harder, but it started to throb inside, and the pressure spread into my belly, and I knew nothing was going to stop me.

  “I’m gonna come,” and my cunt started to spasm.

  She shoved her fingers into me and raised her head to stare at my face. “Give it to me.” Her palm thudded against my unyielding clit as she fucked me, and I unloaded into her hand and over her arm, crying and yelling oh fucking God it’s so good…

  She didn’t quit until there wasn’t a drop left in me and I was twisting to get away from her fingers, my clit so fucked out I wasn’t sure I’d ever need to come again. She reached behind me and released my hands and I fell to my knees, trying to drag air into my lungs. She didn’t care if I could breathe or not. She grabbed my head and tilted my face up and jammed her clit into my mouth.

  “Now suck me off,” she ordered through gritted teeth, her clit like rock and already jumping. She bucked her hips and pumped her clit in and out of the circle of my lips, jerking herself off in my mouth and muttering, “uh uh uh.”

  She was starting to come, so I sucked her just hard enough to keep her clit in my mouth. I wanted it to last for her.

  “Here it comes, baby,” she gasped, her fingers trembling in my hair. “Get ready to swallow. Sweet baby, you’re making me come.”

  I clutched her ass and yanked her hard against my face, sucking her clit in to the root and clamping my teeth around it. She cried out and ejaculated on my face and down my neck and I felt her legs go. I wrapped my arms tightly around her thighs to hold her up because I knew she would hate to go down in front of everybody. When she stopped coming I licked up the juice that clung to her cunt and tongued her clit until she murmured a protest and pulled away.

  Somehow I got my legs under me and heaved myself to my feet, hauling my pants up with me. My clit was still so tender I couldn’t zip up. She backed me into the pole again and leaned an arm on either side of my head so she could lick her come off my face. Her whole body trembled and I risked putting my arms around her.

  “That was sweet, baby,” she whispered so no one else could hear.

  I kissed her and she let me, and as I played my tongue inside her hot mouth, I realized that I had been wrong about what I had been looking for. What she had given me was sweeter than sweet.

  Secrets of the Heart

  I must have looked suspicious because the sales clerk moved to the end of the counter nearest me, leaned his elbows on the smudged glass surface, and fixed me with a baleful stare. I suppose the fact that I’d been standing in front of the card rack for twenty minutes, unmoving, struck him as odd. If he’d known me, he wouldn’t have found it strange. He might even have appreciated how impossible it was for me to choose a Valentine’s Day card for this particular woman.

  From the instant I’d scanned the messages scattered over the ubiquitous pink and red cards, I’d known it was hopeless.

  Be Mine. Forever Yours. Your Forever Love.

  Perfect sentiments, and everything I wanted to say. Except she didn’t know, and I didn’t dare tell her.

  “Help you with something?” he grunted.

  When I didn’t answer, he probably thought I was crazy or just plain rude. He had no way of knowing that I wasn’t seeing any of the cards and that his voice barely registered as background noise. I was replaying the conversation I’d had over breakfast that morning with the woman who had put me in such a quandary.

  *

  “So,” Sheri said as she stuck her head in the refrigerator and rummaged around on her shelf for something I wouldn’t even recognize as food, “got a date tonight?”

  “Uh-uh,” I replied around a mouthful of last night’s pepperoni pizza. We’d agreed when we moved in together that we’d keep our food separate because she pronounced my eating habits “disgusting,” and I contended that cold pizza and beer was an All-American meal. On the other hand, yogurt and granola and things that resembled the stuff that came out of a lawnmower bag struck me as being unnatural.

  She turned around and leaned her back against the closed enamel door, spoon in one hand, a carton of purplish gooey stuff in the other, wearing only a lacy white bra and very, very tiny bikini panties. In between those minuscule scraps of material masquerading as garments was an acre or so of alabaster skin that stretched and dipped over one of the nicest landscapes I’d ever seen. The rosy areola blushed beneath the snowy white silk as if embarrassed by my scrutiny, and I hastily looked out the window. I fixed on the latticework of telephone wires superimposed on the zigzag line of the fire escape that hung by a few loose bolts from the adjoining apartment building. If I squinted, the view resembled a Mondrian, which was far safer for my blood pressure than the image of a Judy Francisconi calendar model that I saw every time I looked at Sheri. Being a MFA grad student tended to make me think like that. Sheri, on the other hand, was studying modern dance. Her body was her instrument, and she thought nothing of displaying it. We were roommates. I was gay. She wasn’t.

  In all fairness, it wasn’t that she didn’t think of me as a sexual being when she walked around the apartment in less than a chin-to-ankle cloak, which is probably the only kind of garment that wouldn’t have made my heart sing and my lower regions beat out a frantic rhythm in accompaniment. She was just comfortable in her skin and had no idea that I dreamed about using her body as my
canvas to paint upon. I had decided months ago on gold body paint. Just a subtle rendering, to accent the already perfect picture—a circle around her right nipple, connected by a diagonal slash across her high arched ribs to a ring that rimmed her shallow belly button. I could feel her skin beneath my fingertips as I spread the wet glitter along the path my tongue longed to follow, ending in a dusting of promises in the blond curls between her thighs. My gold-tipped fingers would guide her legs apart, and then I would lower my head to—

  “Davy? Da-vi-da. Hel-lo-o.”

  I jumped and flushed. Or, flushed more, to be strictly accurate. Sheri stopped with her spoon halfway to her mouth and looked at me with an odd expression. “What’s the matter with you? You look sick.”

  Lovesick, maybe.

  “Nothing,” I croaked. Then I coughed, trying to cover how tight my throat had become as I’d made my imaginary journey down her body. My hands trembled, and I shoved them between my blue jean–clad thighs.

  “So?” she asked.

  I shook my head, totally befuddled. Had we been talking about something? My nipples were stiff beneath my T-shirt, tingling and tight, unashamedly clamoring for attention. The rest of me was on point too—hard and wet, the desire to taste her skin so intense it sucked all the blood and good sense from my brain. Jesus, it was getting so I couldn’t be around her for more than five minutes without going crazy. “So, what?” I finally managed.

  She cocked a hip, which tightened that little patch of silk flush across her mound, hinting at the prominence of her clitoris where the tantalizing rise gave way to the valley beyond. I brushed the back of my hand over my mouth, afraid I might be drooling.

  “Do. You. Have. A. Date. Tonight?”

  “It’s Tuesday,” I said stupidly.

  “It’s Valentine’s Day, so that doesn’t count.”

  Valentine’s Day. But I want you to be my Valentine.

  “Oh. No. I forgot.”

  I supposed I should ask her the same thing, but I just didn’t want to know. It was getting harder and harder to watch her go out on dates and then spend the night pretending I wasn’t thinking about what she was doing, or about what someone might be doing to her. I’d envision her in her sexy short skirts and tight little tops, having dinner with some guy, or dancing with him, or—uh-uh, no. I couldn’t go there. In fact, I’d started spending more and more Friday and Saturday nights away from the apartment just so I wouldn’t see her going out. I was getting to be a regular at the all-night movie theater around the corner on Chestnut.