Sweet Danger
Page 7
“With people watching?” the guy panted.
Ariel delivered her next response with the rapture of a student on her first solo flight: “With everybody watching. They try not to look, but they know what I’m doing under there.” She grew visibly more excited by her sudden surge of erotic creativity. “And if my boss tells me to?”
The guy groaned, hanging on Ariel’s every word.
“What? What?” he asked desperately.
“I’ll go down under the table and suck him with everyone watching. Just ’cause he likes it.”
The guy uttered a bestial strangling sound.
“And ’cause it makes me wet.”
“It makes you wet!?” The guy sounded genuinely shocked.
“Uh-huh,” said Ariel.
Her hand strayed down between her legs, and she gently caressed her cunt through the soft thin crotch of her teddy.
“Tell me more. Tell me more. What are you wearing?”
Ariel looked confused.
“Wearing now, or when I do this?”
The guy panicked. “I don’t know! I don’t care!”
She might have been the only phone-sex operator in the history of the business who had actually gone to work in a slinky black teddy with a built-in push-up bra, snap crotch, and black garters leading down to black fishnet stockings with little red bows on them, her perfect feet encased in six-inch black patent-leather heels. She had only herself to blame for this elaborate phone-sex getup. She had told me she’d wear anything I wanted, even instructed me to make her wear the sexiest thing I could imagine her in, because she was doing it all for me.
And she was doing it all for me. She didn’t need the $2.49 a minute any more than I needed to advertise her online as “Cheating Slutwife Who Takes All Cummers!!!” with blurredface lingerie shots marked CERTIFIED REAL. She didn’t need dirty-minded men from across the nation calling and pouring cumshots in her ear any more than I needed her in a slutty teddy, fishnets, and high heels to be crazy in lust with her.
But none of it hurt our sex life. She was on her sixth call that night, her second night. She decided not to stick to our initial one-night-a-week plan, “just to spice things up.” She actually suggested that she could, you know, learn faster if she did it every night for a while. The fact that we’d had fucking incredible hours-long sex last night starting the moment she rang off her shift—that couldn’t have had anything to do with it.
Just twenty-four hours ago, Ariel could barely utter the word “fuck” without some hesitation. Now, with only a little prodding from me, she had a mouth like a sailor.
Was I invading the men’s privacy? Well…in a word, yes. I was listening to them fuck my wife. She was selling a fantasy, and on some level I was invading that fantasy. I was also probably breaking some kind of telecommunications law.
But fuck, my dick was hard. Crime had never turned me on so fucking much.
Of course, my favorite teddy was a little worse for wear—last night, she’d worked three hours. But then, I liked her dirty. When she asked to do it again tonight, how could I have told her to wear anything but my favorite?
And besides, describing what she was wearing was a hell of a lot easier when she told the truth.
Though she did pretty well with her business suit, too.
“And when I suck my boss off under the table? I’m wearing a short, tweed skirt, a low-cut, pearl-colored blouse, nude-colored stockings and—”
“Does your husband go down on you?”
Ariel cocked her head at me.
I shrugged.
“When I’m sucking my boss?”
“No,” said the guy. “Whenever. Like, tonight. When you go to bed after fucking your boss, will he go down on you?”
I was there before she answered. She gave off a merry little giggle as I buried my face in her crotch.
She tried to shove me away.
I wasn’t having it. I kept at her. She kept trying to shove me away, but her heart wasn’t in it.
“After I fuck?”
“After you fuck your boss.”
“When I’m dirty,” she said.
Simon made a hungry, desperate sound.
“Yeah, yeah. Dirty,” he said. “Filthy, dirty.”
“Dirty.”
“Dirty.”
“Filthy.”
“Filthy.”
“Dirty.”
“Dirty.”
They kept at it like that for a while, saying “Filthy” and “Dirty” back at each other, while Ariel tried to dodge my face and shove me away from her crotch. She even tried to close her thighs, but that was not in the cards—not least because Ariel clearly didn’t want it. She just kept saying “Dirty” and “Filthy” as we both got breathless from our wrestling match. Ariel took greater pleasure in each word with each recitation, Simon clearly becoming more aroused.
“Does he?” he finally asked.
“Well, you know, he does go down on me,” she said. “Though not nearly as much as he should. No husband ever goes down on his wife as much as he should.”
“Don’t I know it!” chortled Simon.
“But in fact, he’s here right now, and I think—”
“He’s there with you?” The guy sounded slightly upset.
“He just got home from work.”
“Oh, man,” said the guy playfully. “He’s gonna be mad you’re having phone sex.”
“Mmmmm—I don’t think so,” she said. “You want me to tell him?”
“He’ll be mad.”
She finally relented and let me get my fingers under the snaps of her crotch. I plucked them away.
“I’m having phone sex,” she told me.
I looked shocked.
“Is he mad?” the guy asked. I still couldn’t tell if he was amused or dismayed. I didn’t care.
“And I fucked my boss at lunch,” she said, biting her finger seductively as she looked down at me.
“Oh, man,” said Simon. “Is he mad?”
“What do you think?” Ariel asked sexily, looking down at me for guidance.
But I was between her legs. My only answer was that I popped her snap crotch, reached under her ass, and pulled her onto me.
I started working my tongue against her clit, licking her eagerly. She gasped. Punctuating my excitement, I wriggled the tip of my tongue against her supposedly well-fucked entrance. I licked deep and slid two fingers into her. She tasted ripe and tangy—delicious. I started licking her clit.
“He’s not mad,” sighed Ariel.
“I knew it!” gasped Simon. “He’s a cum-lapper, isn’t he? He loves it when you’re dirty.”
“Fuck if I know,” breathed Ariel. She arched her back and began to rock against me as I licked her clit.
I shoved my fingers firmly into her and worked her G-spot. She moaned and moved her hips in time with my thrusts. My own headset was getting in the way, so I tore it off.
“Fuck if I know,” she repeated. “I don’t give a damn, as long as he licks me like that.” Then, as if remembering she was getting paid $2.49 a minute to do this, she asked, “How about you, Simon. Are you stroking that big, fat, hard cock for me? I always insist that guys stroke their dicks when they’re around me.”
She tapped my forehead and gestured at me, looking annoyed.
Obediently, I took my cock out. It was hard. I started pumping as I licked her.
“Don’t come yet, Simon,” Ariel panted. “I want to come for you. Will you let me come for you? For real, I mean?” Simon liked that idea. I licked more firmly, thrusting more deeply, lapping at Ariel’s clit as I fingered her.
She must have been damned close already. She leaned back in the chair, lifted her hips, and put one hand on the back of my head, holding me in place so I’d be there as she came. It was her way of saying “Don’t stop.”
But she said that loud enough with a soft cry of orgasm. She came for Simon, and she came for me. Simon groaned so loud I heard Ariel’s headphones crackling
.
She moaned: “Oh, yeah, baby, come for me, yeah, baby, stroke that big cock.”
She finished coming herself, panting heavily, and said, “Was that good, Simon? Did you come hard, Simon? Simon? Simon?”
“He’s gone,” I told her, coming up from between her legs.
She frowned bitterly.
“Men,” she said. “You’re all the same.”
“Not all of us,” I said. “You still want a good-night kiss?”
She leaned forward and planted one on me.
“Nah,” she said. “I think I’ll do the kissing. C’mere.”
Richard’s Secret
SASKIA WALKER
“A gimp?” Richard was a sex slave? Could it be possible? I swallowed, breathed deep, and tried to make sense of what Tom had just told me. “But what does it mean…?” I looked up at him, spluttering the words out. “I mean, I know what it means…I just don’t know what he means by it, by approaching us.”
Tom rested his hand reassuringly on my shoulder. There was a look of deep concern in his eyes, and he was watching me carefully for my reactions. Oh, how I loved this man; when he had said he had something “a bit heavy” to talk to me about, I thought the worst was about to happen, that he was going to say there was another woman, that he was leaving me. The last thing I expected was for him to reveal this, Richard’s secret. Richard’s darkest secret.
I had actually known Richard longer than I had Tom. He had been working in the international trade department when I was transferred to the London branch, about six years earlier. Admittedly he was the dark horse in the department, and the office gossips plagued him with questions about his private life, all of which he managed to avoid and dismiss without being in the least bit offensive.
To me Richard was just a shy, reclusive guy; a small man, and very attractive in an understated way—nicely packaged, dark hair, and vivid blue eyes. I just assumed he was comfortable around me because I was the only one who didn’t quiz him about his private life. That was also how I had learned more about him than the tenacious office gossips. He lived alone in an apartment overlooking the Thames and enjoyed a number of extreme sports, like acute and prolonged bouts of mountain biking, martial arts, and kick boxing. I supposed that was what gave him his good packaging—the guy worked out, you know—but none of that seemed to go with his shy, understated image. Neither did this fetishistic sexuality that I had just learned about, but then…maybe it did kind of make sense?
I had kept the personal information he gave me to myself, which is why he liked me, I assumed; he appreciated that kind of respect. Now that I reflected on it, I guessed he had been even friendlier to me since Tom had arrived on the work scene and moved in with me two years ago; but shy single men often feel more comfortable around women who are attached. Little did I know he was observing Tom and me with this kind of proposal in mind. He wanted to be our sex slave, our gimp. My heart rate went up several notches and my body was hot, almost uncomfortably hot. I fanned myself with a magazine while trying to come to terms with the conundrum and the rather extreme affect it was having on me—I had to admit it, the idea made me horny as hell.
“Suzie, I can see you are interested, my love.” Tom folded his arms. He was standing in front of me and nodded down at my breasts, where my nipples were swollen and crushed beneath the surface of my silk blouse. There was no hiding it. My sex was clenching, my body was on fire.
“Yes, I can’t deny it… the idea of it makes me hot, but you know…I want us to be okay.” I eyed his long, lean body, the fall of his dark blond hair on his neck. I couldn’t bear to lose this man…hell, I could hardly get through a day without wanting us to meld our bodies together and fuck each other senseless.
“It won’t affect anything between us, it’s just an adventure.” He began to stroke my face, pushing back my hair where it was sticking to the damp heat of my neck. “He said he will be transferring soon, so there wouldn’t be any awkwardness at work; it would just be a one-off.” My, he had thought of everything, and he’d obviously been planning the whole thing for quite a while, too. Tom lifted my chin with one finger, his thumb stroking gently over my lower lip. “He said it would be up to us; he said we could do what we wanted with him.” There was a dark, suggestive look in Tom’s eyes.
“I see…” I mumbled, not sure if I did.
“One thing I’d like to see…” His voice was hoarse. He ran a finger down the collar of my blouse and into my cleavage. He slipped one finger inside, pulling the blouse open, looking at the shadow between my breasts. His other hand lifted mine and led it to his groin, where his cock was already hard inside his jeans.
“What…?” I wanted to know. The blood was rushing in my ears; the magazine in my hand fell to the floor.
“I’d like to watch him going down on you.” His eyes were filled with lust. I groaned, my hips beginning to shift as I rocked back and forth on the hard kitchen stool, my sex hungry for action. He leaned forward and kissed me, his tongue plunging into my mouth. My fingers fumbled with his fly buttons, and then I was bringing his heavy cock out and stroking it with my whole hand. He pushed me back, over the breakfast bar. He was going to fuck me, right there and then, and I was ready; sweet Jesus was I ready. I hoisted my skirt up around my hips. He dragged my knickers off and pushed my thighs apart with rough, demanding movements. He stroked my inflamed clit, growling when he saw the juices dribbling from my blushing slit. Then he fucked me while I perched on the kitchen stool, pivoting on its hard surface with everything on display.
“Get your tits out,” he whispered as he thrust his cock deep inside me, his body crouched over me. I pulled my blouse open, my hands shaking as they shoved my breasts together, kneading them and tweaking the nipples, sending vibrant shivers through my core. I was whimpering, jamming myself down on his thrusting cock as hard as I could. Tom watched with hungry eyes as my hands crushed my breasts. I suddenly remembered Richard blushing when I had caught him looking at me over his monitor, just the other day. Was he aroused then? Had his cock gotten hard as he thought about me and Tom? He had glanced away, furtively, his color high. Dear God, the man had been thinking about us doing this; maybe even thinking about doing this with us. He had told Tom his dark secret, and Tom was now rutting in me like a wild man. I was on fire. I whimpered, my hands suddenly clutching at Tom’s shoulders. I was about to come. I had never come so bloody fast in my entire life.
“You look very beautiful, Suzie,” Richard said. My fingers fidgeted with my neckline nervously. “I always thought you looked like Audrey Hepburn with your hair up like that.” He smiled; he seemed quite calm now, and he was leading the situation even though he was going to be the slave. We were nervous, but then we were the novices; presumably he had done this many times before. I glanced at Tom. He had chatted happily about work while we made our way through several glasses of wine, until now—until Richard had moved the conversation on to a personal note. Now Tom had grown silent and watchful.
“Thank you,” I replied, swigging another mouthful of wine. Both men were staring at me; the sexual tension had risen dramatically. “It’s the little black dress,” I added, with a smile. That morning I had told myself that I wasn’t dressed any differently; I always wore stockings, garters, and high heels to the office. The little black dress underneath my jacket was the new addition. It was very soft and clingy, and now that I had abandoned the jacket I felt good in it. Besides, what does one wear when one is about to take on a sex slave?
“You want to know what I’ve got in the briefcase, don’t you?” He’d seen me looking at his black leather briefcase when we left the office that evening, the three of us headed to Tom’s and my place for drinks. Yes, I had been curious. I nodded. “I like to wear a mask,” he said. “I’ve brought it with me, and I’d like you to put it on for me.”
My sex twitched. The combination of power and deviance he had suggested in that simple comment hit my libido like a narcotic entering the bloodstream.
Richard stood up, taking off his immaculate suit jacket as he did so, and placing it over the arm of the sofa. He picked up the briefcase and carried it over to the breakfast bar, where he set it down, flicked the combination lock, and opened it. Tom and I both watched with bated breath. Richard undid his tie, rolling it slowly and tucking it into a section in the top of the briefcase. Then he lifted something out of the case and turned back to us, leaving the briefcase sitting open on the breakfast bar. As he walked back to me, I stood up.
“It’s perfectly safe,” he said, allaying any concerns we might have in advance. “It was handmade, for me.” He passed the soft, black leather mask into my hand. I turned it, feeling it with my fingers. It was cool to the touch and incredibly soft, molded, with laces down the back and breathing holes for the nose, a closed zip over the mouth. A powerful jolt went through me when I realized that there were no eye holes; Richard would not be able to see what we were doing once he had the mask on. My eyes flitted quickly to Tom, and I saw that he had noticed that too. Richard undid his shirt, revealing well-muscled shoulders and torso. He dropped it on the sofa and stood in his black pants, looking from one to the other of us, for our consent.
“Turn around, and I’ll put it on.” Even as I heard my own voice another wave of empowerment roared over me. Richard smiled slightly and inclined his head.
Tom suddenly stood up. “I think you should take that dress off, first,” he instructed. The mask dangled from my hand. Richards’s eyelids fell as he looked at the floor, hanging his head, but I could see that he was smiling to himself. The atmosphere positively hummed with sexual tension. Tom’s instruction had completed the dynamics of the triangle. This was it; the scene was set for action.
I put the mask down on the coffee table and pulled the soft jersey dress up and over my head.
“You can take one look at her, before she puts your mask on.” Tom’s eyes glittered. Richard’s head moved as he looked back over to my stiletto-heeled shoes, up to my stockings and the scrap of fine French lace barely covering my crotch, then up and on to the matching balconette bra that confined my breasts. I knew I looked statuesque and glamorous in this, my most expensive underwear, and I could see that he approved.