The Mammoth Book of Women's Erotic Fantasies

by Sonia Florens

  I eased his cock out into the cool air and stroked it briefly, my fingertips softly smoothing the moisture that oozed from the tip all over the head. It was a lovely warm, silky piece of flesh, not too big, not too small. I grinned at the thought, feeling like Goldilocks. Sam’s cock was just right. I opened my mouth and took him inside. My nose nuzzled his pubic hair. He smelled delicious, a combination of musk and soap and tasted even better. I do so like the taste of pre-come, sweet and salty all at once. Resisting the impulse to bite this delicious lollipop, I pulled slowly away, took a deep breath, and sank my face back down on him.

  It was his turn to lose all control. Sam groaned and thrust his hips, and from the shocked sounds he was making, I realized that he had never had all his cock buried inside a woman’s mouth. Grabbing my hair, he eased me up and down on his cock. God, it felt so good, sexy and slightly scary, as his cock plunged further and further inside my hot mouth, then finally down inside my tight throat. I swallowed convulsively and the movement triggered his orgasm. Uncaring and unaware of any spectators, Sam shouted and came, his semen flooding my throat.

  I came up for air, gasping and flushed, a huge grin of triumph on my face. It quickly disappeared when I caught sight of a road sign, flashing past the window. “Our stop,” I wailed and pressed the bell, “We’ve missed our stop.” Sam stared at me blankly as I pulled my coat together. “Get up, Sam. If we get off here, it won’t be too far to walk back.”

  My handsome conquest shook his head as he came rapidly back to reality. Hastily adjusting his clothes, he stood and staggered down the aisle to the stairs. As we got off the bus, I thought I saw the driver wink at him, before he drove away.

  Arm in arm, we walked slowly back up the long road towards our stop. Sam was very quiet, I only hoped he wasn’t regretting what had just happened.

  “Penny for your thoughts.”

  Sam opened his mouth and looked amazed by what came out. “I want to fuck you. Here, now.”

  I giggled, pleased and surprised by his frank honesty, “OK, but not exactly here,” and I gestured at the wet pavement. “Come on.” I grabbed his hand and dragged him out of the light of the street lamps into the shelter of an unlit shop doorway. I think Sam was beginning to have second thoughts until he felt me catch hold of his hands and place them on my breasts. His breathing quickened as he felt the hard nubs of my nipples, through my sweater. I knew then that I had his undivided attention. I could feel his cock stiffening again as he pushed my knees apart and stood between my legs, our crotches glued together.

  He cupped my warm breasts and slid his hands under my jumper.

  “It fastens at the front,” I murmured in his ear.

  I wonder if he realized then, just how much thought I had put into seducing him. I was hardly wearing any clothes, and those that I did have on allowed easy access to my body. Undoing my bra, he pushed my jumper up, and bent his head to my breasts. I moaned as he sucked and nibbled at my nipples, his teeth grazing over the ridged skin. I rubbed my pussy against his hard cock, the fabric of his trousers delightfully rough against my sensitive skin. Slipping a hand between us, I slid his zipper down and released his cock from its bondage. My pussy met it eagerly and he slid easily inside, I was so wet.

  Grunting, he thrust into me and I gasped at the power of his strokes. “Beautiful slut,” he murmured in my ear and I took it as the compliment that he intended. He thrust harder and faster, taking me higher and higher with each stroke. It was an exquisite journey, which ended far too soon. “I’m coming,” he moaned softly in my ear and gave a final couple of thrusts, holding me so tightly that I could hardly breathe.

  He withdrew from me. Trembling with a combination of arousal and disappointment, I would have turned away from him and fastened my coat but he stopped me, holding my hands tightly. “Stand still.” He slid his hands to my waist and slowly knelt down on the cold stone. Grasping me to him, his hands round the back of my thighs, he buried his face in my pussy. His tongue licked and lapped at me, cleaning away our mingled juices and replacing them with his saliva. My knees shook and moments later as he flicked his tongue over my hard clit I came in waves, my hands threaded into his dark hair, forcing his face into my cunt as hard as I could.

  I was shaky on my legs after that, and had to lean against the shop door as Sam tenderly smoothed my skirt back down to cover my buttocks. He rose and gently adjusted my clothing, refastening my bra and pulling my sweater back down. “There,” he kissed my closed eyelids, “All nice and tidy.”

  Wearily, I opened my eyes and smiled back at him. “Thanks.” I yawned and he looked worried.

  “Come on, not far now. I only live just around the corner. You could stay if you like?”

  I liked. Leaning heavily on his arm, I made the last hundred yards in a satiated daze. He lived in a narrow terraced house, but apart from noticing that it was in the middle of the row of houses, I was too tired to take in any more details. He led me upstairs to the bedroom. I remember lying back on the bed as he helped me get my boots off and then no more.

  “Miss, Miss. Excuse me, Miss, wake up.”

  I felt someone shake me and blearily I opened my eyes, confused by my surroundings. I was sitting on the tram, my head leaning against the window. I swallowed to ease my dry mouth and gingerly moved my stiff neck.

  I looked at the man hovering nervously beside me. It was Sam. I frowned at him and he flushed. “Sorry to wake you, Miss, but I think that this is your stop.”

  I nodded stiffly and he removed his hand from my shoulder, the overhead lights glinting on his wedding ring.

  “Thank you.” As if in a dream, I stepped out of the carriage and onto the wet platform, the cold rain and rising wind blowing away any last vestiges of sleep. Wide awake, I watched as Sam walked away from me towards the car park. Unusually, there was a car waiting for him. Green with envy, I saw him bend to kiss the driver on the cheek. I assume the woman was his wife.

  Sighing, I buttoned my coat up tight against the weather and headed in the opposite direction towards the bus station. As I sat on the bus, I tried to remember my dream, but it only came back in vague wisps of memory. All I had to remind me was a feeling of sleepy satisfaction. I blushed as I realized I had come in my sleep. Had I cried out, or made other embarrassing noises? I bit my lip and huddled down into my seat. Tomorrow, I vowed, I would take care to avoid the brown-haired man, that my dream had named Sam.

  All About Me

  Lee (Arcadia, USA)

  What is her name? Peg, Meg? I can’t remember. Couldn’t be all the beer. I know she’s with Carlo, though. I lean around to follow the curve of her arm as it snakes around Carlo’s waist and ends on Greg’s arse. Lucky bitch.

  “Is anyone else hungry? Why don’t we get a pizza?” No response. I must be invisible, same as I am at home with Tad. I have drunk myself into a state of invisibility. Now I can openly stare at Carlo and Greg both rubbing themselves against her – Meg, that’s her name. Look at them, they love it! Why doesn’t Maria care what that slut is doing? I take advantage of my transparent state and pluck someone’s nearly full beer from the coffee table.

  Okay, I can pout or enjoy this. Pout about the fact that Tad is on his way to Thailand without me, that I am here at a party alone, in my shortest sundress and no one is noticing. Or, enjoy the fact that I am in an apartment on the beach in Venice with a terrific view, lots of beer, and no husband bothering me. I can stand on the couch if I like, take in the sunset and watch my single friends frolic like bunnies in spring.

  Well, I wonder, savouring a sip of beer. Who would I pick if I was single, if I had no husband and it was all about me? How about Maria’s boyfriend, the blonde, scruffy Greg, with his knobby knees and eighties fashion sense? I glide closer to examine the curly trail of hair descending into his loosely tied paisley shorts. I admire the dreads touching the nape of that spot on his neck that feels so good to lick, and tongue the neck of my bottle.

  What about our host, Carlo? I step lithely a
round Meg and insinuate myself in the space behind her to appraise Carlo. His thick, black shoulder-length hair sets off his brown eyes and lips pale as seashell against his burnished skin. His age shows only in the deeply etched laugh lines framing his eyes and the mottled grey stubble trailing from his chin. I sniff the vapour of pheromones twining about his chest. Now that I am invisible, I can see hormones and heat. They exude a smoky, reddish glow.

  “How about going to that little club around the corner?” Carlo suggests, and I jump back, but he doesn’t seem to notice my strange behaviour. “They have a good jazz set after nine,” he says, smiling at me. He could just as easily be smiling through me, I think. It’s as if they’re not seeing me at all.

  “No, let’s stay in,” Maria says, to my relief. After so many beers, I can’t imagine navigating the crowds. He shrugs, and turns his smoky eyes back to Meg. Maria huffs a little and walks toward me but, just before we would collide, she says, “Excuse me” and brushes by. So I am not invisible! I am just flying below the sexual radar.

  Leave them to it, a fuzzy voice murmurs in my head. I am not getting any tonight, so I may as well go outside and sober up, think about going home. I slip out the apartment door and up the steps to the roof to see the sights of Venice Beach. As I clear the doorway, a cooling mist caresses my swollen face and I follow the wet, briny breeze up the steep attic stairway and ascend to a ceiling of stars.

  A seaward Santa Ana gust nudges me toward the edge of the roof. I sway backward, straining to find a flaw in the perfect scattering of starlight above. It’s so beautiful; I could just sleep out here if I had a cot. Maybe I could bring a blanket up.

  Just one light illuminates a circle of vacant roof, and makes the rest of the area that much darker. I have to duck away from the glare and peer into the far edges to see anything. I am backing around a trashcan when the warm breeze wraps about me, like an arm catching me smoothly around the waist.

  I relax into the feel of finely muscled thighs, and grip them instinctively as they pull me back and into their warmth. As I crouch in the shelter of a vast muscle of chest, my feet leave the roof and I am encased in another body – a body all around me with an erection curving against my tailbone. I feel the thinness of surf baggies with nothing underneath, and my dress of sheer rayon is just a whisper between us. A languorous sexuality surges in me, and I reach around lithely and grasp for the firmness. This one is for me.

  Two hands brush fleetingly over my chest, the mountain of muscle moves, and I lose my grip but slide firmly over the erection on my way to the ground. I knew from his own forward sway and pulse that he welcomes my touch, and once I can stand on my own, he leaves one hand on my ribcage to keep me close.

  “You okay?” I hear a voice whisper. “It’s too far to dive from here.”

  “I’m fine,” I say, struggling to take in fresh air and appear composed. He thinks I was going to jump? “I was just looking for a place to sit.” He steers me gently further into the puddle of darkness beyond the arc of lighted roof. This is bad. Should I scream? I have to face him, explain calmly that I am not a lunatic and make sure he isn’t either. Even though I’m the one who was holding him by the dick.

  I turn around and then a gust, like a fist gathering up a handful of my hair. My head tilts back and I open my mouth to scream, but it is smothered by a ravenous kiss. My tongue tastes lips and teeth, then another tongue, tangy as the ocean brine. I relax and suck gently on it and then take it into my throat. This is so easy, to forget everything except this tongue touching mine.

  I feel like we are dancing, taking tiny, languorous steps until we discover a tattered chaise and sink down, still entwined. I gasp at the frigid feel of the damp plastic strips under my thighs contrasted with the burning warmth all over the front of me. I open my eyes to a halo of light all about me, and then a dark, featureless mane swims into focus. All about me, I think and giggle as I imagine his swollen lips, his startled eyes wondering at me.

  “Who are you?” I sigh, and regret asking immediately. “Never mind,” I whisper, and trace a line of shadowy stubble. “It doesn’t matter.”

  I watch raptly as the darkened lips seem to move, but any sound they make must be blowing away in the warm wind. Or maybe I am just that drunk. I am so drunk. What am I doing? I look at my hand lingering on his chin. My other hand is moving his shirt, moving back down to the bulge in his surf baggies. This is all I want. I feel him nod, as if he is as dumbstruck as I am.

  I stroke my hand along the rigid length of him, as confident as an actor in a porno movie. If he doesn’t want me to, he can stop me. But instead, he leans in to kiss me again. My sudden relief surprises me a little, and I sigh with pleasure. His dark hair tumbles around us, stroking my neck, and I imagine our bodies merging blonde and black in a private spotlight.

  My dress buttons down the front and his hand follows the buttons down as I caress him. Please don’t come fast, I beg silently. I want this to last.

  I slide my palm down and into his shorts and pull loose the drawstring where the tip of him pokes out. The thought of what I am going to do gives me a thrill, and I murmur, “I want to taste you,” as I slide down until my tongue reaches his velvety knob.

  He shapes his hands to my breasts, still encased in the filmy rayon. “Suck on me,” I hear from somewhere, and so I pull his shorts down and take him fully into my throat.

  His shaft pulses around my lips. I feel reckless and nasty. I suck him to the hilt and back, my own jumbo lollipop. “Fuck my mouth.” I order and plunge my lips around his throbbing shaft. I hear no answer, just a faint pant of pleasure or surprise.

  I want him to pump into me, to fill my mouth and stroke my throat. He rocks his hips and sends his shaft plunging into me. I suck, release and then grip tight with each thrust. He pauses and straightens from the waist and I feel a rush of panic.

  “Turn around,” the air whispers to me urgently. I spin under him so he can penetrate deeper into my mouth. My dress slides above my knees, open to the navel, and my toes grip the head of the recliner. He kisses my exposed thighs and slides a finger under a corner of my soaked panties. The finger strokes my frothy lips as his cock swells to fill my throat.

  I swallow him to the hilt, until I can feel the tip of his cock expand against the skin of my neck. One finger, then another stretches the liquid walls of my vagina. I ease his cock back out, fluttering my tongue along the underside of his ridged and veiny shaft, swirling it around the flare of his head as it bumps the roof of my mouth. His head swells with a sudden surge of blood.

  “Don’t come yet,” I moan and suck him into me again. One hand feels for the bony extension behind his balls and I press there to stem his orgasm while his fingers search for my clit. He gasps, pauses and shudders with restraint, then begins again to pump into my throat. I hold him there on the edge of orgasm, my tongue teasing his shaft and my hands cupping the softness of his scrotal sac, until I feet his balls tighten.

  I tickle his balls with one hand and suck in hard one last time as warm semen courses down my open throat. He collapses, kissing my soaked crotch and cradling my arse in both hands.

  I whisper, “You have to finish. I have to feel you inside me.” He kisses my salty lips, tentative and then insistent. His mouth closes over mine as if to capture my breath, and I shiver with my own answering effort. He pulls back suddenly and I catch an image of a wicked smile, like a teenager copping a feel, and I know he’s not finished with me yet.

  “Maybe we should go inside?” I suggest.

  Somehow I button, arrange, and make my way downstairs to the darkened apartment. Maria and Greg are asleep on one end of the sectional couch, and I hang back in the shadows until I see a pile of blankets left out for me. Have I been gone that long, or did they just pass out? Did I miss an amazing menage a trois? Well, I can compete with that, I giggle to myself.

  I arrange the blankets a few feet away on opposite ends of the long sectional and then crawl over to the coffee table and swallow th
e warm dregs of an abandoned beer. Maybe I should lie down for just a minute. The sound of the stereo startles me awake. All about me, heat and hands invade my blankets, opening my dress again. He’s back. Where was he?

  “Quiet,” I whisper at the formless mass. I smile and wonder what he’s up to, whether it’s my turn now. My bra drops on the floor and lips nibble at the tip of one breast, just the way I like it, until I feel it swell and harden. He sucks firmly on one tit and rolls the other between his calloused fingers until I groan in ecstasy and bloom again with moisture. “Bite it,” I gasp.

  I feel my nipple in his teeth and slide a hand down to hook my panties. He pushes them below my knees, and then I hear a delicious sucking sound. Three slick, roughened fingers trace a burning line down my belly. When I open my eyes to the soft green glow bathing my busy blankets, I am sure that it is my own molten desire lighting up the room. I can just make out the tinny strains of “Watermelon Man” and remember the stereo. Did he turn it on to cover up the noise he knew we would be making, I mused. Or did I? I can’t remember with that hand circling around my centre but never getting any closer.

  Finally, I feel his prickly chin, then his hair caress my belly. His head follows his fingers down my torso and his tongue touches just the tip of my clit. More, I whimper silently and arch upward. But his hands hold my hips down as he moves lower, teasing the burning root with soft licks. I open my hips wide and bring my feet between his shoulder blades, willing his tongue to touch the white-hot centre of my clit again, but he pokes his tongue into my womb and pushes a finger into the smaller opening behind.

  “Please,” I hiss, grasping my own breasts in each hand and squeezing my nipples between fingers and thumbs. I contract inside against the poking pressure of his finger and finally feel the meat of my throbbing clit against the warmth of his mouth. Now, I know I will come. That’s all it takes for the contractions to explode around his fingers and tongue. Just as sudden and violent, he pulls out to replace his mouth with his rigid shaft.