“Come on and fuck me,” Nicole said, her words muffled from a mouthful of Ashley’s cunt. I quickly put the condom on and shoved myself into Nicole. It was amazing. I had been monogmous with Ashley for years and only knew Ashley; and suddenly, after so long, to be inside another woman, and realize that women are not alike in any way, they’re all so different – they feel and taste and smell different.
Nicole’s ass, for instance, was rounder, plumper than Ashley’s; Nicole’s cunt wasn’t as tight as Ashley’s, but seemed warmer, wetter. The way Nicole pressed her ass against my thrusts was different than the way Ashley did. Furthermore, the condom added another dimension – I hadn’t worn one in over ten years (in fact, we had the condoms at the house anticipating something like this might happen in our wayward dream-lives) and I knew that the latex was inhibiting my experiencing Nicole fully.
I grabbed at Nicole’s ass and squeezed. I spread the cheeks to look at her asshole and was delighted to see it opened rather widely, much more so than Ashley’s. I might be able to stick myself up her ass tonight, or some other night, and that made me very happy. I had an urge to reach down and stick my tongue in her ass but knew this wouldn’t be a healthy idea.
My plunging into Nicole increased as Ashley’s cries grew louder, and Nicole began to cry out too, and it seemed both the women climaxed simultaneously. Having come recently in the car, I wasn’t anywhere near there myself, and anticipated more fucking.
“I can’t take any more,” Ashley said gently, looking at us. Nicole sat up; my cock slipped out of her. She turned and kissed me and I tasted my wife’s cunt on her lips and tongue. It was a long, deep kiss. She broke away, two thick strands of saliva and cunt juice dangling. “Fuck her,” Nicole told me. “I want to watch.”
Ashley, her legs spread wide, touching her cunt, said, “Fuck me.”
I went to my wife and kissed her, smoothly. She touched my hair and face.
“Take the rubber off,” Nicole said, standing over us. “She is your wife.”
She had a point. I removed the condom, which was soaked with Nicole’s own cunt. I placed Ashley’s legs on my shoulders and entered her. Ashley breathed, “Slow, slow,” and I was slow, but started to pick up speed.
Nicole, standing next to us, was touching herself, watching, going, “Yes, yes; fuck her; fuck that cunt.”
I was delirious, delirious with fuck and the desire to be bad. I turned Ashley over immediately. Ashley gasped, stiffened, and then relaxed. Nicole seemed to like this, saying “Yes,” breathing hard, observing with angular, horny eyes. I turned to Nicole and said, “I want you this way, too.”
“You want a lot, little boy,” she answered.
I came inside my wife.
When we went upstairs to the bedroom, we were all naked and lying in semi-darkness, touching and kissing one another. Ashley said she wanted to go down on Nicole and Nicole said she would like that. “But,” Ashley said, “I’ve never done it before.”
“You know what you like and feels good,” Nicole told her. “Just do me like my pussy is yours – you know what your pussy likes.”
My head was spinning with lechery and all the new possibilities. Nicole lay on the bed, legs up and spread, pillow under her head. Ashley positioned herself. At first, Ashley just looked and touched Nicole’s cunt, tracing the trim of hair, tracing the lips. She bent down once, tongue out, for a quick taste, and stopped. Nicole told her it was okay.
Ashley went back down, timid for a minute, then she started to get into it. I watched with a smile on my face, for I was finally seeing it (how many times had I fantasized about this?) – Ashley’s tongue and mouth meeting another woman’s sex. And it seemed natural; it seemed Ashley should’ve been doing this all along. I noticed Ashley had reached between her legs, turned on by this.
To my delight, I had another erection. Normally, at my age now, the best I can do, on a really good night, is two erections per occasion, which I had already had; but this was something else and I was wanting. I got behind Ashley, lifted her ass, and entered her cunt. We went like this for a while, and Nicole came, and she said it was good, and Ashley turned around and sucked me off and I came in her mouth. Then we went to sleep.
Sometime in the early hours of the morning, Nicole left. She must’ve called a cab. Normally, I’m a light sleeper, and I probably would’ve awakened at her getting up. I had fallen deeply, nicely asleep wedged between my wife and our . . . lover. We didn’t wake up until close to noon anyway. The sun was bright in the bedroom and my head – and Ashley’s as well, I’m certain – was hazy with a slight hangover. We looked at each other with what I thought was a sense of disbelief, curiosity, and fear. I held her close to me.
Okay, maybe it was a dream. Maybe one of my fantasies had manifested itself in my head and seemed real. But I could smell her, I could smell Nicole – on the bed, on Ashley. We didn’t say anything to each other. Evidence of last night was in the living room: Nicole’s thong panties were on the couch. I smiled, thinking of her getting into a cab, in public, short red mini and naked underneath.
Ashley made a big breakfast. We were both starving. Those hash browns, eggs, and bacon never looked so good.
“Honey,” she said.
I said, “What?”
“What do you think?”
“The food is good,” I said.
“About me,” Ashley said. “What must you think of me.”
“It’s okay,” I said, taking her hand.
“Is it okay?” she asked.
I said, “Yes.”
She said, “Did you like it?”
I said, “Yes,” and: “Did you like it?”
She said, “Yes. I liked it when you fucked her. I liked watching.”
“I liked watching you and her,” I said.
She blushed and said, “Why did I wait?”
“You liked it?”
“I loved it.”
“It’s okay,” I said.
“Yes,” she said.
Later that day, Nicole called. I answered the phone.
“Hey there,” she said.
“Hey,” I said, and looked at Ashley.
Ashley, sitting on the couch (in the very same spot where Nicole had gone into her cunt), reading a book, whispered, “What?”
“Nicole,” I mouthed.
Ashley’s eyes widened.
“What’s up?” Nicole asked.
“Nothing,” I said. “We’re just sitting around.”
“How boring,” she said. “Look,” she said, “I’m sorry I split, but I had to go, and you both looked so cute, snoring away there, so I didn’t want to wake you.”
“It’s okay,” I told her. “What did you do? Call a cab?”
“No; I stole your car. Didn’t you notice?” she laughed. “Look, why don’t you guys meet me tonight?”
“Oh,” I said.
“Something wrong?”
“No.”
“I’d like to spend some more time between your wife’s legs,” she said in a voice that gave me a semi-erection.
“I’d like that,” I said.
“I know you would,” she said. “You going to meet me tonight?”
“Where?”
We met Nicole at the same club around nine. Ashley was wearing Little Black Thing this time; we both agreed it’d pleasantly surprise our lover. (“Our lover” – how foreign it was to come off my mouth.) We were the ones surprised, however, sitting at the same table underneath the DJ’s booth (the place was pretty deserted) when Nicole walked in wearing The Dress. She ambled in, proud, swaying, looking around, and when she saw us, she smiled, and sauntered our way, quickly pulling this dress up – just a tad – to reveal that she, this time, was without underwear (that quick flash of dark trimmed pubic hair I remembered well from last night).
It was interesting to view, since Nicole’s hips were wider than Ashley’s, which stretched the fabric and, with each step Nicole took, gave the slightest hint that maybe one was still seeing
some pube. My wife and I just looked at each other.
“Hello,” Nicole said. First, she reached to touch Ashley’s face, then kissed her on the lips. There was a strand of saliva between their lips, which broke as Nicole moved to me, gave me a quick kiss and grab at my crotch.
“So,” she said, and to Ashley, “I like the outfit.”
Ashley said, “It’s my Little Black Thing.”
“Cute,” Nicole said.
“So’s your dress,” I said. “Remarkable. Where did you find it?”
Nicole shook her head and laughed. She said, “I didn’t find it. I borrowed it. Didn’t you notice it was missing?”
I turned to my wife and she had this I don’t know look, a slight shrug. The last I remembered, The Dress was left on the couch, as the three of us proceeded up to the bedroom – naked and giggling and drunk and ecstatic. The Dress never came to mind – it was Ashley’s and I figured she took care of it. I could tell by the look on Ashley’s face that she, too, hadn’t given it any thought.
Nicole made a tsk-tsk sound and said, “I didn’t get you that drunk.”
I had to laugh.
“I like it,” Nicole said, making a half-twirl and smoothing her hands over the length of The Dress. She said, “I hope you don’t mind.”
“Well,” Ashley said, thinking: no.
“I couldn’t help myself,” Nicole said.
I said, “It has that effect on you.”
“Still,” Nicole said to me, “I think it looks better on your wife.”
To Ashley she said, “What do you think? I’m more into bright bold things that are, umm, leather, velvet. I like what you’re wearing. Here, let me get a good look at you.”
Nicole took Ashley’s hand, made Ashley turn in a circle for her. Still holding her hand, she guided Ashley out to the dance floor. “Come on,” Nicole said to me. I didn’t move. I wanted to watch them, my two barely clad women. I wondered how I got here. Hadn’t I always fantasized a scenario such as this, never thinking it would come true?
Let your fantasies run away with you . . .
Nicole lost interest trying to get me to join them. They were caught up in their own world together, alone on the dance floor, and the few people here couldn’t help but watch them as well – I’m sure because now and then there was a glimpse of flesh. It was the kiss that did it for me.
Out there in public view, Nicole kissing my wife for an extended moment on the mouth, touching my wife’s back and derrière during this kiss, I thought: people could mistake them for lesbian lovers. But they were lovers. They were my lovers. I was very close to screaming and running out there and tearing their clothes away and having them right there on the floor. It took a lot of effort to sip at my drink, and wait for the song to end and their imminent return.
We stayed for a few drinks, but the club was dead, and Nicole convinced us there was more sensation elsewhere. It wasn’t hard to convince us. Nicole had her car; she said she wanted to drive this time. She said she wanted to take us home. She had a loft downtown; she said we’d like it and it’d be fun. I didn’t have any doubts. What happened at the loft you can guess, and I knew that Ashley and I had found the adventure we were waiting all this time for.
Or I had, anyway.
Yellow Leather
Nicole disclosed that the one color she liked to see on a woman – the color that really got her going – was yellow. She said not all women went well with yellow but she thought Ashley would look wonderful in this color. I had to disagree. Nicole, of course, wanted to prove me wrong, and she showed up at our house one night (her visits were starting to become quite frequent) with a present for my wife (and for me): a yellow leather mini-skirt.
The moment Nicole took it out from the small bag she was carrying I smelled that new smell of leather, which always got me going, but I was still skeptical. This yellow leather mini zipped in the front, and from what my eyes could see was just as short as either The Dress or Little Black Thing. Okay, I had to admit, I was curious, and I wanted to see her in it.
Ashley didn’t hesitate to strip at that moment, take the skirt, and slip it on. It was a very tight fit, and hugged her hips nicely. She didn’t look right standing there in the skirt and nothing else (not to say she didn’t look enticing); Nicole said the same. Nicole took Ashley by the hand and they went up to the bedroom. “You stay here,” Nicole told me. I did as I was told.
The two women returned, Ashley wearing black heels with a matching black sweater that showed just a hint of her midriff: Nicole paraded my wife down as if she were a prize, as if I were a gentleman in a brothel and she was trying to sell me on one of her “girls.”
“Turn around for him,” Nicole said, and Ashley did this.
I had to take a closer look. Ashley in yellow leather was something I needed to ponder, to scrutinize. There was no doubt about it, Ashley was hot to behold, but I wasn’t completely sold on yellow. I had Ashley bend over, and as she did this, the mini-skirt rode up high and revealed her ass cheeks and the opening of the crack and a hint of pubic hair. This I liked – the tightness of the skirt didn’t allow for any elasticity, and when she stood up, her ass still hung out, and it was difficult for her to tug it back down to a “respectable” shape.
I confessed the tiny leather skirt was enthralling but I was still dubious about yellow. If we got the same skirt in black, I said, or blue . . .
“I happen to like yellow,” Nicole said. She smiled, grabbed my wife, and kissed her. Ashley was startled for a moment – Nicole always the impulsive one, seizing a person when they least expected it – but she promptly relaxed and returned our lover’s smooch.
“How far do you want to go?” Nicole asked, and we told her we wanted to go all the way.
“How far can you really go?” she asked, and we said we could go all the way.
“You’ll be frightened, you’ll be scared,” Nicole said. “You’ll stop just when things get a little too dangerous; you won’t cross the line when we get there,” she added with a laugh.
“Not us,” we said, “not us.”
A strange thing happened that night. The three of us were at the club where we met. It was our favorite place, for all the obvious reasons, although Nicole was hinting that we should probably find a better place to hang out.
I marveled at the fact we’d been in each other’s company for almost a month now. Things were going by fast, yet Ashley and I seemed to find a comfortable niche for Nicole to be in our lives. We had no idea what Nicole did for a living, and she seemed to live rather well; we had no idea what she did when she wasn’t with us. Whenever we’d ask, Nicole would change the subject – our life together was surrounded by sex, and there was a lot of sex.
However new this was for Ashley and myself, it seemed par for the course to Nicole. That night at the club, we spotted a man and a woman, and I recognized them: they were the couple Nicole had been with when we first set eyes on her (or vice versa, depending on whose version of the story you were inclined to believe). The couple seemed – I don’t know – startled to see Nicole. Nicole sighed, sipping her drink, and said, “Wait a sec,” and went over to this couple. There was an exchange of words, and the woman seemed upset. Nicole returned.
“Is everything okay?” Ashley asked.
“It’s nothing,” Nicole said, “let’s dance.”
I wasn’t invited, I guess. Nicole took Ashley’s hand and led my wife onto the floor. I wasn’t in the mood anyway – I needed another drink or two. The place was pretty full. I regarded the couple looking at Ashley and Nicole. The woman got up, said something to the man, and went to the women’s restroom.
My eyes wandered back to my wife and our lover, who – as always – made an exquisite pairing. Ashley was in her white and flouncy sweater thing with a red belt tightening and keeping it in place. She didn’t have on any underwear, of course, because it would be a sin to return to this place with any. As certain lights from the roof struck her, I could make out Ashley’s n
aked form and I was pretty damn pleased.
Nicole was wearing The Dress, believe it or not; she’d become quite fond of it. I’d tried to find another dress just like it, going back to the same store, without any luck. Nicole didn’t mind borrowing The Dress now and then – she said she had too many clothes anyway; and Ashley didn’t mind her wearing it. Nicole wasn’t shy about any flashes of ass or cunt that occurred as she danced; once she pulled Ashley for a hug, Ashley gripped The Dress just at the waist and pulled, giving a quick flaunting to anyone who noticed Nicole’s consummate derrière. Finally, Ashley was on the other side of things in the world of display, and I believed she enjoyed it.
It was then I noticed the man from across the club walking my way. He was about five years younger and three inches taller than me, as well as twenty pounds lighter. There wasn’t any malevolence in his stride, although I couldn’t help feeling he wasn’t pleased with me. I tried to play it as nonchalant as possible, like I didn’t recognize him from anywhere.
“I was you once,” he said.
“What?” I said.
“We were you once,” he said over the music, and, “Just watch out. She’ll break your heart and kill you.”
With that, he left. His companion returned from the ladies room and the two departed the club.
When I told Nicole about this, she laughed.
There were occasions I photographed Nicole, having cameras on hand. I took pictures of her modeling The Dress and other outfits, both hers and Ashley’s. I took pictures of the two of them together, dressed, semi-nude, naked, kissing. Nicole wasn’t impressed with the quality of the photographs and I explained to her that I was the amateur of amateurs.
“Do you have a video camera?” she said.
“No,” I said.
The next time Nicole came over, she had a video camera. She wanted me to use this. It took me a while to get a feel for the instrument, but once I did, I enjoyed it. Ashley and Nicole modeled clothes, they stripped, they kissed, and I came in for a close-up of Nicole with her face between my wife’s legs.
The Mammoth Book of Erotica presents The Best of Michael Hemmingson Page 9
