by Violet Blue
Toni pushed me back down on the bench, then finally she undid her slacks and revealed the answer to my fantasies. Yet as I saw the toy, questions bloomed in my head. I started to ask her where she’d gotten it, when she’d gotten it, but the moment I parted my lips, she took immediate advantage of the situation, silencing any queries I might have had with a huge mouthful of cock.
“I had this fantasy the other day,” she said softly, rocking back on her heels as she moved in and out of my mouth at a slow and steady pace. “I was trying on the suit and I imagined you in here with me, doing just this. I actually made myself come all alone in the dressing room. That’s when I knew I had to bring you back with me.”
That image made me even harder, even more desperate to please. I sucked her cock as if it were a true extension of herself, a living part of my lady’s body. The fact that she was still entirely dressed turned me on even more. I was serving her—and then, as I looked up at her and saw her suit, I mentally edited that phrase—I was serving “him.” Tony. Some man that my lady had brought for me to fuck. For me to get fucked by.
Mouth full, cheeks indented in an instant sucking motion, I still had the wherewithal to wonder where the salesclerk was and what she might say if she knocked on the dressing room door and we were unable to answer. From a recent article I’d read, I recalled that many department stores have cameras guarding against shoplifting. I considered mentioning this to Toni, pointing out that we might be in the process of being videotaped, but then I had second thoughts. Knowing my filthy-minded girlfriend, I realized Toni would probably be turned on by the possibility.
Regardless of what could happen to us, I couldn’t deny my own intense need. I didn’t think I’d ever been that turned on, and I knew that Toni was deeply aroused as well. I could sense just how excited she was from the sensuous scent of her sex in the air. That part was still all woman. The more I sucked on her toy cock, the hotter she seemed to be getting. She twisted her fingers in my hair, pulling me more firmly against her. I used my tongue the way I like her to go down on me. I cradled the head of her cock in my mouth, then ran the very tip of my tongue along the veiny underside of her well-developed tool.
“That’s my boy,” Toni murmured as I slid one hand along her naked thigh, moving steadily upward. It was my goal to reach under her black leather harness and tickle her clit, but she had other plans. “I want to fuck you,” she said, her voice hoarse. When I pulled away and looked up at her, I saw the yearning in her eyes. “Yes,” she repeated, nodding, “you heard right. Now, turn and put your palms flat on the mirror.”
I did as she said, offering my ass to my lover, certain she’d take care of me. Toni always does. I knew just what it would feel like when she took control, and I tried to will my nerves to stay steady.
Toni had come prepared. After rummaging around in the outside pocket of her satchel, she emerged with a bottle of lubrication. She tilted her head at me, daring me to watch as she poured out a handful of glistening lube. Gently, she parted the cheeks of my ass and strummed her fingertips along my crack. Now, I groaned and felt my hips arch backward automatically at the instant flush of pleasure her fingers brought.
“You like that?” she asked.
I nodded.
“Then say it.”
“What, Toni?”
“Say what you want me to do.”
Could I? I’d have to. Swallowing over the instant lump in my throat, I managed to murmur, “I want you to fuck me.”
“How?”
“Hard—”
That’s exactly when she slid her wet, warm cock into my ready ass. As she did, she met my eyes in the mirror, continuing to describe what she’d daydreamed about on her previous visit.
“I thought of paging you at the office,” she said, “of telling you that it was a dire emergency and just giving you the address…nothing else. Demanding that you be here in ten minutes.”
“You could have gotten me fired,” I said.
“At the time, it almost seemed worth it.”
I glared at her, and she gave me an open-handed smack on my ass for the look. That made me cringe—the thought that other shoppers might have heard the spank, but Toni didn’t seem to care. She continued fucking me, tightening the muscles of her thighs and really working me in and out.
“I didn’t, though,” she said, “did I? Instead, I planned this—planned on having you meet me, to give me your opinion.” Now I caught the sarcasm in her voice and realized exactly how fucking slow I’d been. My opinion about her clothes. Toni practically dresses me every day. She knows which ties to place with which of my shirts, what color socks I’m supposed to wear with each of my suits. I’m not the most coordinated person when it comes to fashion.
But I’m very adept at other things, like squeezing her thick, plastic cock with the muscles of my ass, making my own rhythmic contractions that brought a look of confusion and ecstasy to my sweet girl’s face. Yes, the cock was synthetic, but the way I pulled on her had to have an effect on her pussy beneath the toy. She swallowed hard and held onto my flat waist with her hands, jamming me back against her, slamming me against her body so that our skins smacked together. Now, I knew other customers would be able to hear us, was sure that it was only a matter of seconds before some burly security guard burst into the haven of our dressing room.
But no, we were safe. No knocking, no horrified voices, just the pleasing, steady rhythm of Toni’s cock driving inside me, the look of flushed and feverish pleasure on my face, the glow in our eyes when we glanced at each other.
As we finally found the stride I needed, she gripped onto my cock, working me with the pumping-fast motion of her hot little hand. I couldn’t believe how intense that felt. I watched in the mirror as she jerked me off, and then I bit down hard on the cry that wanted to escape as I shot my river of come toward the mirror, splattering the glass with sticky white semen.
I tried to catch my breath, but it was difficult. Just too surreal thinking about what the next poor person would find in the dressing room after we left. That wasn’t really my concern, though. My concern was taking care of Toni. I turned around and quickly worked to slide down her slacks and unbuckle the harness of the strap-on, letting the toy fall to the ground. Then I went to my knees on the plush gray carpet and brought my mouth to her pussy. Her cunt was positively swimming in juices. I licked up and down along her outer lips, then thrust my tongue between them.
Again, Toni wrapped her fingers in my hair, holding me close. I rubbed my face back and forth, using every part to work her. My chin dug against her skin. My cheeks pressed into her. Toni was so excited that it was only a matter of seconds before I’d gotten her to the verge. Now, I cradled her asscheeks in my hands and lifted her off the ground. I wanted her to feel weightless as she came, and I wanted to remind her that I can be in charge of her pleasure as easily as she can be in charge of mine.
As she sank slowly back down to earth, she gave me a look of total, sublime delight.
“That wasn’t easy,” she said, wiping her face with my undershirt.
“Which part?”
“The whole thing. The planning. The paying off of the salesclerk—”
“Was that why she gave me such a strange look?” I’d thought I’d seen dollar signs, when really I’d seen sex.
Toni nodded, and when she saw me reaching for my clothes, she motioned for me to sit back down.
“I still want you to see the suit,” she said.
“Seriously?”
“You’ve got good taste, you know. You picked me, didn’t you?”
I gave her a look—she can be so pompous at times. But then I settled down to watch her dress for me, pretty sure that she was only stalling for time…before round two.
X-Rated Eden
CRAIG T. VAUGHN
Eden and I sit side-by-side next to each other in the movie theater, trying our best not to touch one another. Trying, because although we’re both desperately aroused, we are out for a
date with her extremely conservative parents. This means that we have to exhibit our most dignified manners—what I like to call our “boy scout and girl scout behavior.” Amazingly enough, Eden’s folks still don’t know we live together, don’t seem to understand modern couples at all. Whenever they have a chance, they wax poetic about how perfectly Eden’s name suits their innocent, flaxen-haired girl.
If they only knew…about Eden’s tattoos, about her penchant for doing tequila body shots, about her innate ability to talk dirty.
Of course, the fact that we have to behave for the next two hours means that whenever Eden shifts in her seat, simply the innocent brush of any part of her body against mine makes my rig throb fiercely in my cleanly pressed khaki pants. Every time she waves her long hair over her bare shoulders I am caressed by a whiff of her subtle sandalwood perfume. The simple pleasure of her scent makes me want to lean over and kiss the soft skin of her neck, to bite along the rise of her collarbones, to sink my teeth in deep and make her squirm. I am unable to even share the crimson velveteen-flocked armrest with her. For the first time in my life, the touch of an elbow against my bicep makes me want to shoot.
Who knew arm-sex could be so intensely erotic?
Midway through the picture, I realize that I have no fucking idea what the movie is about. When people around us begin to laugh, I look up, startled, having forgotten that we’re even watching a comedy. For me, there is nothing funny about the situation at all. In fact, if I were to classify the genre, my life is currently bordering on tragedy—the waste of a perfectly fine bone-hard erection due to being in the wrong place at the wrong time. If we were here on our own, we’d skip the screen climax in favor of a good, old-fashioned fuck session at home.
I see it all—our clothes on but open. Eden’s dress pushed to her waist, panties off, her legs thrown over my shoulders as I slam into her to the hilt.
“Be good,” Eden whispers to me when she sees me shifting uncomfortably in the seat. I’ve got blue balls like you wouldn’t believe. “Please, Charlie. You only have to do this once every few months.”
After the movie, when I’m ready to drag my honey home for an all-night encounter on our California King, Eden’s mother suggests a late dinner at a nearby Mexican restaurant. No idea has ever sounded worse to me, but my brain is so sex-soaked, so totally consumed by images of me and my lady in a tight and powerful clinch, that I can’t think of an excuse. Usually, I’d be able to say, “That would be wonderful, but I’ve got an early court time in the morning.” Something, anything to be able to drag Eden home with me and fuck her until she creams.
She’s got on this whisper-thin strapless dress tonight. Multicolored flowers bloom all over the fabric. A rich heady bouquet, so suited for “Eden.” But I want to plunder my Eden. I want to drive inside the heavenly garden between her legs and make her moan with delight. When I look at her, I see her shining hair pulled out of her face, see every one of the freckles that decorates the bridge of her nose. She has on a thin golden chain around her neck, and I want to bite on it, tug on it. Raging hormones have turned me into a hungry animal. I know nothing except my urgent desire.
“What do you say, Charles?” Eden’s father asks. My silence is bordering on the bizarre.
Desperately, I look over at my baby, but even though I’m certain she reads the serious longing in my eyes, she doesn’t make a single effort to save us. Instead, she smiles sweetly at her mother and nods, saying we’d be more than happy to join them. Her parents walk ahead of us to the restaurant, and now Eden twines her fingers in my own, and finally I understand just what she’s doing. She’s teasing me, and it’s exciting her immensely to be in charge. Power has changed even the way that she moves. Her confidence has skyrocketed.
“Why’d you do that?” I whisper anyway, pressing my lips to her ear and feeling her golden hair tickle my skin.
“Because you’re on fire.”
“You’re right,” I say. “Just walking is torture.”
“And you’re going to be that much harder when we finally fuck—”
Her mom turns around then, missing by a millisecond the moment when her preciously angelic daughter has used vulgar and inappropriate language. I lose myself in thoughts of exactly how obscene Eden can be. I picture her bent over our coffee-colored sofa, her own hands reaching back to part her asscheeks for me, waiting for me to drive deep inside. “Fuck me, Charlie,” she always says. “Fuck my ass hard. Make me feel it.”
Then I see her standing in the center of the tiled floor of our kitchen, drenched in olive oil, wrists tied tightly together with twine and fastened to a hook in the ceiling. Slowly, I circle her, my belt doubled, waiting, just waiting, for her to give me the excuse to strike. She always does. Eden can’t keep quiet to save herself. And when she lets loose and says filthy words, my cock stirs immediately. How someone so coolly beautiful can speak in such heated dialogue turns me upside down.
“Just wait,” she says now. “I’m going to screw your brains out.”
“Here we are, you lovebirds,” Eden’s mother coos at us, ushering us in ahead.
Dinner is hell. Pure and total hell. Eden is in ripe form, dragging her stockinged foot against my crotch under the table. Leaning down to pick up her accidentally dropped napkin, and then grazing my cock through my slacks with her long, rose-pink nails. When I feel her actually try to unzip my slacks, I give her a stern look, my jaw clenched, and she smiles at me, then licks her lips. What I’d do to feel those lips around my cock. Pursing, tightening, swallowing. What I’d give to be able to push all of the half-filled dishes onto the floor, lift her up on the table, and just fuck her in the dead center of the restaurant. I can hear the crash of breaking porcelain in my head, and when Eden’s father asks me a question about a recent case, it takes me a moment to decipher the language of his words. I want to tell him, “Excuse me, if I could just fuck your daughter for a moment—quickly, I promise—I’d be able to get myself under control. Then I’d be a much better dinner guest.”
After about a thousand years, the check arrives. I pay with cash, drastically overtipping in my hurry to get it over with, and then finally we say our good-byes, excuse ourselves, and hurry from the joint.
“You’re in for it,” I tell her.
“Oh, really? Am I, Charlie? What exactly am I in for?”
I hold onto her hand, pulling her down the escalator to the parking lot, but now I’m so hot that I can’t remember where we fucking parked the car. Walking is a nightmare. My cock needs release, needs to be inside Eden’s sweet cunt, and I finally just stop and stare at her.
“Poor baby,” she says, stroking my dark brown hair away from my eyes. “It’s that bad, is it?”
Visions blur in my head. Pictures of what we’ve done together in the past and what I want to do right now in our present. We live only ten minutes away, but that’s ten minutes more than I can handle. And even though we’ve never done this before, never done anything close, I pick the happily squealing Eden in my arms, throw her over my shoulders, and find a concrete pillar nearby. This will protect us, if only slightly, from the prying eyes of any curious passerby. Protect us enough, as far as I’m concerned. I set my sweetheart down, flip her around so that her palms are flat on the white plaster, and lift her innocent-looking floral sundress in back.
And, Jesus fuck me, she doesn’t have any panties on. Not even one of the tiny, floss-like pastel lace thongs that she favors. No panties. No stockings. No nothing. I’m so shocked by her bare skin that I stand there like a fool looking down at her.
“This whole time?” I ask, trying to figure out if there was a moment during the evening when she could have ditched them.
“This whole time.”
And at this exact moment, one of the mall’s security rent-a-cops goes strolling by. I quickly lower Eden’s dress and do my best to talk to her in a casual tone, as if we’re discussing the fact that we’ve misplaced our car.
“You folks need any help?” the heavys
et man asks us. I can tell from his raised blond eyebrows that he thinks he knows just exactly what we’ve been up to, and that he’s caught a multitude of sexually excited couples in similar positions in the past. We’re obviously not the first lust-filled couple to look for a little love-tryst in the parking garage beneath the mall.
I shake my head and Eden says to the guard, “We thought we’d lost our car. But now I remember that it’s on a different level—” Her voice is so sweet and so calm. How could the security guard help but believe her? Yet I notice the way his eyes seem to skim over the naked skin of her shoulders, the tight cinched-in waist of her dress. He takes his time before answering, and I am infinitely aware of the thunderous sounds of cars driving by around us, the way Eden tilts her head slightly to add to her honest effect, the way my cock throbs animatedly within the confines of my slacks.
“Happens all the time,” the man says, moving on. And now Eden and I have to move on, as well, but we only make it as far as the next pillar.
“That was close,” I tell her.
“Not as close as I want you to be.”
“Meaning?”
“Fuck me, Charlie. Just fuck me.”
I run my fingers along the back of her dress, and now I feel the dampness there, caused by her arousal combined with her lack of undergarments. She’s chosen well, though. The multicolored pattern of the fabric hid the wet spot so well that all evening long I didn’t notice.
“So you knew what you were doing from the start,” I say, unbuttoning my slacks now and releasing my near-desperate cock.
“Exactly what I was doing,” she agrees.
“And you knew what I was going to do when I found out?”
“Exactly what you’d do,” she sighs as she feels me enter her. Then she leans her head back, and her rich blonde hair cascades in a gold-foil river down her back. Her body tenses as I thrust and release, holding her hips and pulling her back against me. I think about the way she teased me in the movie theater, playing on a fantasy that we’d discussed often in the past, but never done. “Maybe we can do it on the beach,” she has whispered to me in bed. “Or at the movies,” I’ve countered, knowing that this sort of conversation makes our at-home times even hotter. In reality, it’s difficult to find public places to misbehave in Los Angeles. You’re never entirely alone.
