The Mammoth Book of Women's Erotic Fantasies

by Sonia Florens

  She is uncharacteristically compliant as I peel her sweater from her soaked torso. The slick heft of her pert, round breast in my palm sets my imagination reeling. I impulsively grab a handful of butter and slather it over both her perfect tits. The butter melts easily when it meets the elevated temperature of her skin. As I knead her breasts, they are so slippery, I have trouble keeping them in my palms.

  Inspired by another impulse, I reach for the flour and move to sprinkle some on the buttery sheen I’ve created. But I miscalculate and several cups of the stuff hit her breasts in an enormous powdery plume. We are both stricken with coughing fits and are forced to leave the kitchen for relief. We take separate showers because the mood has been unalterably broken.

  Knowing that the only thing Romaine ever made for dinner was reservations destroyed my culinary fantasy as quickly as it was conceived. Anyway, we both adored our wardrobes – neither would be willing to sacrifice any garment to such silly kitchen antics, even for the sake of carnal pleasure.

  So, what remained? Should I just “be there for her” when the day came when Theresa rebuffed Romaine’s advances? Was that bastion of female strength, Consolation, the only weapon I had in my seduction strategy arsenal? And what if Theresa didn’t object to Romaine’s invitation? Then there’d be no need for consoling.

  But if Romaine was shy about making the first move, as she’d always been with others, the likelihood of her making a pass at Theresa was slim. My heart skipped a beat at the thought. Perhaps I was blowing all of this out of proportion. Romaine would be intimidated by the very act of flirtation and knew that a straight, married woman with two children was far from a slam dunk proposition.

  What was I worrying about?

  Did I still need a strategy? Yes, clearly I did, but whether I needed it right now was an equally important question. I could wait a while, at least until my feverish brain quelled a bit.

  “. . . with that, I’ll turn things over to Julia,” I heard Theresa say.

  “Well done, Theresa,” Barbara said with unprecedented sincerity.

  “Yes, that was just great,” Romaine beamed at my exotic assistant.

  Good lord. What on earth could Theresa have said to make both these hardened retailers so effusive with their praise? I’d never gotten a “well done” from Barbara in all the years I’d worked for the old crone.

  I attempted an expression that approximated pride in my little vixen of an assistant and proceeded to disclose Robes and Loungewear’s buying strategy for the coming season. The words came easily; this wasn’t rocket science and I’d been doing it for years. The disconnect between my words and my thoughts today didn’t concern me nearly as much as the disconnect between me and Romaine.

  “I love Theresa’s idea for joint merchandising,” Barbara said to the room at large at the close of the meeting. “You’re sharing several vendors this season and we could save some money if you coordinated marketing efforts.”

  “I can’t believe we never thought to do that before,” Romaine said, smiling.

  “Thanks. It just seemed to make sense,” Theresa said. “Would you like to meet sometime this week, Romaine, to see what we can work out?”

  I watched open-jawed as Romaine eagerly agreed to Theresa’s suggestion. I stared as they walked out the door together.

  “That Theresa is a real gem, Julia,” Barbara observed. “She can make you think you always wanted something you never even considered. And then she knows how to implement her idea the moment she gets buy-in. A natural strategist.”

  All this time, I could have been taking strategy lessons from my very own assistant. Now, all that appeared to be left to me was emulation and imitation. I had let too many opportunities pass and, as I’d learned from my buying experience, once a trend had passed, it was gone until someone revived it again twenty years later. I wasn’t big on retro, neither in fashion nor affairs of the heart.

  While I was focused on appearances, Theresa dealt with realities, strategizing to get what she wanted, which just happened to be the very same thing that I wanted: Romaine. I thought I was preserving some sort of professional image and had blamed my lack of action on everything from Romaine’s shyness to her rigidity. With the right strategy, I could have countered that shyness. But I didn’t and now it was too late.

  “Yes,” I said to Barbara. “She’s wonderful, isn’t she?” I was the epitome of composure as I left the meeting, fighting back tears that only I would ever know about.

  Only For My Husband

  Rebecca (Sydney, Australia)

  My husband John is the greatest guy, so for his fiftieth birthday I want to do something really special. We’ve got plenty of money so whatever I decide on I know we can afford it. The problem is that he has everything. Everything materialistic of course.

  This birthday I want to plan something he’ll never forget. My dilemma is, what? He’s been skydiving, raced fast cars, explored the jungles of Africa, climbed mountains, seen the Pyramids – we’ve both done it all.

  We’re lucky too that we have a great sex life and are both faithful to each other, although I know one of John’s fantasies has always been to have a threesome. To be honest it’s one of mine too. I would have loved to have participated long ago but never told John, didn’t want him to think I wasn’t satisfied with him.

  Sitting here thinking about it, I’ve decided that I will organize one for him. I’ll make out my participation is only for his pleasure. Excited at the thought of it, I’m pleased I’ve finally made the decision. The problem now is, how to go about it?

  I have a good friend, Melissa. She’s someone I can trust. After all, this isn’t the sort of thing you broadcast to just anyone, now, is it? I mean, how would it look?

  I decided to pay her a visit.

  “You’re not asking me, are you?” she asked coyly, her eyebrows arched questioningly.

  “Oh, no,” I quickly answered. “I just thought you might know how I’d go about finding someone. I couldn’t possibly do it with someone we know. I’d never be able to look at them in the same way again.”

  “What about a brothel?” she suggested.

  “Hmm, no I don’t think so.”

  “What about cruising the streets until you see someone who turns you on?” she prompted.

  “You’ve got to be kidding. God knows what we might pick up,” I said shuddering. The thought of sexually transmitted diseases left a chill in me.

  “What about a stripper? Yeah, you could hire some strippers, see what you think,” she said excitedly.

  “Hey yeah, that’s a good idea,” I said. “How?”

  “Easy,” she laughed. “Let’s look through the advertisements.”

  We spent an hour poring over them and finally decided on three.

  “Where do you think we should do it?” I asked.

  “Not at home,” she said. “Too dangerous. What about a hotel room? Some expensive place in the city.”

  “You think so?” I asked.

  “Yes, it’s neutral ground. It’ll be perfect. Leave it all to me.”

  She booked us into the flashiest hotel for the following week and hired the girls at one-hour intervals. That way, she said, we could check them out, discuss together what we thought when they’d gone, before deciding on the right one. The difficulty would be asking them if they were into that sort of thing, but I thought if I never asked, I’d never know.

  “You have to come with me,” I told Melissa.

  “No way,” she said.

  “I can’t do this alone. It was your idea,” I pleaded.

  “Oh, all right,” she said a little too quickly,” but I’ll deny it if you ever tell anyone.”

  The following week we both dressed to the nines and booked into the hotel. I rang the three agencies and gave them my room number and confirmed the times. Melissa and I sat there drinking champagne and nibbling on finger food while we waited.

  “Nervous?” she asked me.

  “You bet,” I said
as the doorbell rang.

  A gorgeous blonde stood in the doorway.

  “Vanessa?” she purred.

  “Yes,” I answered. “Please come in.”

  I sat back on the couch with Melissa and watched her go through her routine. She was dressed very provocatively, and her CD was a sexy Latin number. She had a great figure, but unfortunately had silicone tits. I knew John hated them so after she finished I thanked her and she left.

  I sculled down my drink and popped the cork on another bottle.

  “That was so nerve-wracking,” I told Melissa.

  “I know,” she said, downing her drink too. “Half the time I didn’t know where to look.”

  The doorbell rang again.

  This time it was a sexy redhead. She was dressed as a police officer. We laughed as she stumbled in the routine when taking off her trousers. When she was down to her G-string she picked up the baton and surprised us by smacking her thigh with it.

  Then she had it working up the inside of her leg, but before it reached her pussy she closed her thighs tight. She pushed it in and out, rubbing hard against her slit, moaning while massaging one of her breasts.

  I clenched my own thighs together but that made things worse as my thighs caused a delightful tremor to ripple through me as my clit was squeezed between my outer lips. This was turning me on. Colour flushed my cheeks. I wondered what Melissa would think if she knew.

  The stripper then pulled her panties forward and pushed the baton down in between her folds and over her slit. She allowed the baton to slip in and out easily and with her panties so far down we could see that she was a definite redhead. When she lay down on the floor with her legs spread and began to insert the baton, I told her, thank you very much and she left.

  “Phew, I don’t know if I can go through with the third one,” I said, fanning myself with a cushion. I’d clearly had too much to drink.

  “Why?” Melissa giggled.

  “I don’t know. It’s different to how I thought it would be,” I said.

  “Is it turning you on?” she asked.

  “Er . . . not really . . . well, maybe just a little bit,” I laughed.

  “Well, it’s really turning me on so just relax and enjoy it. Here, have another drink,” she said, her speech slightly slurred.

  The phone rang and she leaned over to pick it up. I felt a distinct throbbing in my pussy as my eyes fixed themselves on her arse. The thought of seeing her naked was becoming more and more appealing. When she stopped talking on the phone I didn’t even notice.

  “Are you listening to me?” she asked, shaking a shoulder.

  “What?”

  “What’s the matter with you?”

  “I think . . . I’m not sure . . . I’ve had too much to drink,” I giggled.

  “Well, that was the agency of the next stripper on the phone. The woman’s running nearly an hour late.”

  “You’re kidding,” I slurred; my eyelids were feeling very heavy.

  “Hey, I think you better lie down for a while,” she said, hopping off the couch to make more room for me.

  She pulled my shoes off my feet and lay me down, fluffing up a cushion to prop behind my head. Her mobile phone rang and she left me there while she answered it in the bedroom. The thought of her naked in the bedroom brought a smile to my lips.

  I really would love to see her naked.

  When the doorbell rang again, I sat up and downed the contents of my glass, noticing I was a bit more than tiddly as I staggered to the door.

  Whoa, this woman was gorgeous. And black. She sauntered into the room dressed in a skin tight leather dress. It was black and so were her high-heeled stilettos. She had long black hair that hung down to the back of her waist and wore very little make-up except for her red painted lips. She was stunning.

  “Where’s the party?” she asked.

  “Oh, it’s private,” I said. “We just want you to strip for us. I want something special for my husband’s birthday and I want to make sure you’re exactly what he’d like.”

  “Oh, he’ll like me – don’t you worry about that,” she laughed. “Mind if I have a drink?”

  “Er, no,” I said, a bit taken aback as she already began to pour out a drink.

  She sat in the chair opposite us, crossing her long legs. I glimpsed white underwear and looked to Melissa to see how she was reacting.

  “Do you do private affairs?” Melissa asked boldly.

  “What do you mean?” she purred.

  “Do you become involved with the clients?”

  “Only if I like them,” she said.

  “Well, to tell you the truth,” I said, “I’m looking for someone to participate in a threesome with myself and my husband.”

  Her eyebrows lifted just a fraction.

  “You ever done this before?” she asked.

  “No, can you tell?” I laughed.

  “Hmm, yes. I’ll tell you what I’ll do. It’s no good just thinking about hiring me on the day and then getting all awkward when it comes time to get down to it,” she said moving out of her chair like a panther and coming towards me.

  She sat in between the two of us; her attention focused on me.

  “You like what you see so far?” she asked.

  “Well, yes,” I said, nervous as my stomach dropped.

  Like a snake about to strike, her head very gently swayed until she closed in on my mouth. Her full lips were soft and her scent intoxicated my senses. The alcohol had me uninhibited compared to how I usually acted, so I kissed her back, my lips parting hers.

  Her tongue touched the top of my lip and like a shiver of heat I boldly thrust mine into her mouth, kissing her more passionately than I’d kissed John in a long time.

  “Very nice,” she whispered against my mouth. “Very nice indeed.”

  Now her hand was at the back of my neck where she held me firmly while her other hand found my breast. Tightening her grip, her fingers opened the buttons on my blouse and slipped inside. Then her hot mouth trailed its way down into my bra.

  My pussy began to pulsate.

  I could barely breathe, I was so turned on. She released her hold on my neck and with her hand now on my waist she helped me to stand. We stood there looking into each other’s eyes as she slipped my blouse off and discarded it on to the floor.

  Her hand was at the back of my bra and with a quick flick of her fingers that too fell to the floor. She was back at my mouth; her tongue flickering around while her hands roamed my body. Somehow she unzipped my skirt and suddenly I was left in only my G-string and high heels.

  She fell to her knees and her tongue tantalized my navel while her fingers explored the edge of the crotch of my satin panties. With her fingers tugging at the flimsy material, she ripped them from my body. I stood there quivering before her, forgetting all about Melissa, not knowing or caring where she’d gone.

  Laying me on the couch, she opened my legs so she could inspect my pussy. Her breath was hot on my quivering lips as she opened the folds to locate my clit. Then her amazing mouth was all over me, her tongue searching to flicker over my clit. I grabbed my own breasts and squeezed them, my head falling back and my eyes closed in ecstasy.

  I could feel myself peaking as my body began to spasm and my back arched away from the couch. She looked up at me as I peered down into her dark face with half-closed eyes and, with her mouth latched on to me, a wonderful orgasm broke free.

  As I fell back on to the couch, she rose and pulled her dress over her head. She stood there before me in brilliant white underwear, her tanned ebony skin shimmering and my eyes opened wide as her fingers fumbled behind her before she dropped her lacy bra to the floor.

  Her breasts fell free, swaying, her nipples dark and protruding, shiny nipple rings glinting at me. Her hands cupped each breast and she squeezed each nipple between her fingers, moaning lightly as she smiled down at me. Then she was tugging at the rings, stretching the nipples forward, her tongue sliding over her top lip a
s she eyed me watching her.

  I lay there, my legs splayed open for her, my wetness apparent for her to see. My pussy began to throb, sending a pulse through the whole of my body as she inched her panties down and stepped out of them. Her body was void of all hair, her pussy naked, lips poking out, begging for a licking.

  I lifted my hands toward her and she lay between my legs, her tongue lightly darting over my trembling pussy. I grabbed her head, pulled her closer into me as my legs locked around her head. She attacked my pussy, devouring it while I ground my pelvis up to her.

  She rolled me off the couch and on to the floor, disengaging my hands and moving her body so her pussy was over my face. I looked up into the only other pussy, apart from my own, that I’ve ever made contact with and inhaled her beautiful scent.

  Grabbing her hips, I pulled her down to me and tentatively licked her outer lips. Her skin was smooth and as my tongue slipped and darted about her pussy I was overwhelmed with passion. I smothered myself into her, licking, sucking, and slobbering all over her. I was wild with raw emotions and wondered why I’d never done this before.

  Suddenly strong hands tore her away from me and a huge cock was dropped into my open mouth. I looked up, shocked for a moment and then latched on harder and sucked deep into my mouth. This was something I knew, something I loved. This cock was John’s.

  How he was here and why I didn’t care. For the moment all I wanted to do was enjoy this wonderful experience. Then, this woman, whose name I didn’t even know, was kissing John. Her black hands roaming over his body, her fingers only inches from my mouth as her red painted nails dug into John’s pubic hair.

  But a mouth was still latched on to my pussy. I lifted my head a fraction, John’s cock still full in my mouth, and saw Melissa attacking my pussy, her eyes glinting up at me with mischief. How was this possible? They had obviously planned this all along. I had no time to ponder this question as the three of them ravished my body.

  “Move, both of you,” John commanded after what seemed like an eternity.

  He lifted me to the bed and lay me down on it. The two girls sat on either side; their nakedness seeming somehow normal as John positioned himself between my thighs. He began to fuck me slowly, with deep long strokes, just how I liked it, while the two women caressed a breast each, Melissa taking my nipple into her mouth and sucking it between her teeth where she stretched it out before biting hard on the tip of it.