The Mammoth Book of Erotica presents The Best of Michael Hemmingson

by Michael Hemmingson

  Nicole called me at work one day. It was a pleasant surprise. She said I should take the day off tomorrow and we could go around town with both the still and video cameras and take risqué exhibitionist shots of her in various places in the city.

  I told her this was a good idea but I didn’t know if Ashley could get tomorrow off. “This is really short notice,” I said.

  “Ashley doesn’t need to be there,” Nicole said. “It’ll just be you and me. We’ll get some great shots and surprise Ashley with them. Think how amazed she’ll be!”

  I had to agree, but for the wrong reasons. I hadn’t been alone with Nicole once.

  I was a little too excited by the prospect. I wanted to tell Ashley. I was vigorous with my wife that night, fucking her hard. She said, “Where’d you get all the energy?”

  I told her I didn’t know. I had a hard time sleeping. I felt guilty in the morning, as if I were lying: acting like I was heading for work when I had plans with another woman. I’d never been unfaithful to Ashley – not since we met in college, lived together, and got married. Yet this wasn’t like having an affair, this wasn’t a secret rendezvous per se – Nicole was our lover, ours, and I was just going to be with her alone for a while, and we were only going to take some lewd shots around town for Ashley’s later enjoyment.

  I met Nicole at her loft. She was ready, with a bag of assorted clothes, wearing the yellow mini she’d gotten Ashley and a thin, white, virtually see-through button-up top. (Since I still didn’t care much for yellow on Ashley, Nicole had decided to adopt the skirt.) Yellow looked good with Nicole’s darker complexion and dark hair. I had my still camera and she had her video camera. I asked what was in the bag and she told me just a few items that might come in use.

  We left and got into my car. I started to drive but I didn’t have any idea where we were going.

  “Where are we going?” I asked.

  “Where do you want to go?” she said.

  Nicole reclined her seat back; she pulled the yellow leather mini-skirt up, showing me a delight: she’d shaved most of her pubic hair, except for a tiny, tantalizing mohawk.

  “Do you like?” she said.

  “I like,” I said.

  “Can you,” she said, “finger-fuck me while you drive?”

  I failed to mention that Nicole had a craving and desire for fast food. Ashley and I, always conscious of our health and dietary intake, never affected Nicole with the food we made when she came to our house. When we visited her loft, she never had a scrap of nourishment in the fridge or cabinets, and always suggested Jack in the Box, McDonalds – or her favorite, Burger King. I wondered how she maintained such a fine figure, eating like that; maybe one day it’d catch up on her. (I have to admit I liked the occasional sloppy hamburger, much to Ashley’s chagrin.) Nicole also liked hot dogs from Der Wienerschnitzel, but there were very few of those around. Anyway, as we drove, my fingers in Nicole’s cunt, Nicole said, “Let’s go and take some photos. I’m hungry, too.”

  I wasn’t sure what she had in mind. We went to the fast food place in question, parked the car, and got out. I had the equipment with me. We stood at the counter and looked at the menu before us. Nothing seemed all that enticing, but I was a little hungry and knew I’d need some energy for whatever this day had to offer. I asked what she wanted.

  Nicole took my arm in hers and batted her eyes and said, “Well, I don’t know; what do you want?”

  I figured I could stomach an order of hash browns and some milk.

  “What I want,” Nicole said to the teenager at the register, “is a big fat bacon cheeseburger, dripping with melted cheese, and a large order of fries, and a vanilla milk shake.”

  The teenager nodded, his pimpled face flushed; he glanced nervously at Nicole’s exposed, long brown legs popping out from the yellow skirt.

  At this time of day, the fast food joint was unoccupied. Nicole and I sat down with our meal. The hash browns were rather salty and greasy, but I liked the milk. Nicole devoured her food. She held a French fry before my face like some thin phallus and said, “Here.” I opened my mouth and took it.

  We were alone in the area we sat; the morning sun shining through was good. Nicole made sure I was aware of this. It was time to take some pictures. I got up, took the lens off the camera, and found a good position to get Nicole in the booth. She turned to me, a fry in mouth, and I took a shot. She grabbed the milk shake, drank from the straw, and I took a shot. She spurted some of the vanilla shake, thick white fluid on her lips and chin, and I took a shot.

  I stepped back some. Nicole leaned into the booth, spread her legs, pushed up the yellow leather, and showed me her shaved cunt. I snapped. She reached to open her cunt, and I snapped. She smiled, and I snapped. Just then, I was aware of someone coming into the area with a tray – a man with frizzy hair and wild eyes. I gathered myself and sat down. Nicole looked at him, made a sound, and composed herself. The man looked lost in his own thoughts, and had no idea what Nicole and I were up to. Damn – and I was hoping to use the video camera.

  I used the video camera outside. We left the building, and by the parked car was a three-foot high brick wall. Nicole had an idea; I got the camera ready. She got on hands and knees on the wall, taking her blazer off first, so that as I got behind her, I had a great shot of her ass and cunt. She crawled along the wall and I videoed her. She looked back with a few puckered kisses. She tried to reach back to her flesh and almost fell; the wall was too thin. A Chevy pulled into the parking lot. Two young men got out, and immediately took notice of Nicole. Nicole got off the wall, and I don’t think they caught a flash of anything. They stood watching her, until we both got into my car and left.

  I’ll run down what we did that day.

  There was a small park nearby the fast food place. Nicole said, “Stop here.” She leaned against a pole on the walkway, hiked up the yellow leather, and bent over. This time, she used her hands to spread her cheeks and show me her beautiful puckering brown and pink asshole.

  “Hey,” she said, “you want a taste of this?” God, did I; but when I had the nerve to go for it, Nicole, wiggling butt, quickly moved away and giggled. She got on a bench, leaned back, and spread. She got on the ground, ass high, and spread her cheeks again. There was a playground. She sat in a swing – too small for her really – and spread her legs, and began to urinate in the sand.

  We found a busy street corner, where she took a spot to stand and occasionally stoop down for undetermined reasons other than to beam someone going by. I was in the parked car, catching this on video and stills. Some people noticed her, others didn’t. Nicole took various positions opportune for a flash, both standing and sitting. She was approached by a man in a suit, who left a few moments later. When I asked her what the man said, she said he wanted to take her to lunch and she told him to fuck off.

  We discovered a construction site while driving around, seven men working on the roof of a partially finished house. Nicole told me to let her off at the beginning of the block, drive up to the end, and get the camera ready. I did this. Nicole started walking down the block, and of course the construction workers immediately took notice and began to whistle and call out to her, like construction workers are known to do. She feigned dropping her purse, and bent backwards so as she did so she was flaunting her bare ass at these poor unsuspecting laborers. They started to wail and scream even more; Nicole acted like she didn’t notice them. As she got close to the car, she turned to the men, pulled up the yellow leather skirt, and gave them a view of her mohawk cunt. The men started clamoring down the house. Nicole quickly ran to the car and said, “Go!”

  We stopped somewhere secluded, and Nicole got out and bent over the hood of the car. I taped her, but couldn’t help myself – and fell face down into her ass, licking her, but she pushed me away. She told me to just shoot; she reached into the car, opened her bag, and took out a fat and long dildo. She spat on the rubber cock, bent back over the hood, and tried to shove it up her ass.
She got the head in but no farther. She told me to do it, told me not to worry about hurting her, told me to video it. I held the dildo in my hand and felt a little weird. Nicole spread her cheeks with both hands, like a captive under orders. With camera in one hand and phony-dick in the other, I stuck it in her. I took heed of her request and was not gentle: I got past the the rubber head and penetrated her asshole deeply.

  In the bag, she had a black coat. After I fucked her with the dildo, she stood up, removed her blouse and blazer, then the skirt, and stood naked before me. I stepped back to get this on tape. She opened the bag and took out the coat, which she put on, buttoning it up slowly, and throwing me a kiss.

  I had, at some point, told Nicole about the hotel with the grand piano, and she wanted to go there. We drove there. Nicole seemed to almost know her way around, and found the grand piano by herself. There was nobody here and there was good light. I was excited because I knew what she had in mind – at the same time, I had this dismal sensation that all Nicole wanted to do was show me (and my wife) that she could go beyond Ashley.

  I didn’t care at that moment. Quickly, Nicole dropped the coat and stood there in the foyer totally nude. She leaned against the piano. I took a few still shots of her, then switched to video. Nicole threw a kiss, leaned forward, threw another kiss, turned, bent over the grand, spread her ass and wiggled. She next sat at the piano, looking at me with big brown eyes. I thought – I thought I’d never seen anything so perfect, her hair over her face, her breasts firm, her skin glowing in the semi-sunlight.

  It was at this moment I realized she was playing an actual song, something in the classical mode, which the audio of the video caught. Nicole knew piano! Just as we were both aware someone was going to notice this, Nicole quickly grabbed her coat and put it on, wrapping herself into decency as I put the camera down and someone from the hotel front desk peeked around the corner and looked at us –

  “Tell me something,” Nicole said in the car, three of my fingers in her cunt.

  “Okay,” I said.

  “What’s the story with you and Ashley? I know you get off on women flashing themselves; you get off on the visual shit of it. I think Ashley does in a way, too, but it’s not really in her. It’s like you’ve talked her into it.”

  “I did talk her into it,” I said.

  “But it’s not really in her,” Nicole said, “not like it’s in me.”

  “Like I’m in you right now?” I smiled.

  She stretched and said, “What you do now, it wasn’t part of your marriage before.”

  “We had the greatest marriage,” I said. “We still do. But something happened along the way. I don’t know what. Our lives were dull. So dull, in fact, that we considered divorce, although neither of us wanted that. What we needed was excitement.”

  “Excitement,” Nicole said. “I’ve heard that before.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Are you both sincere?” she asked. “To what extent are you willing to go to find this excitement?”

  “I feel like you’re always testing us,” I said.

  “I am,” she said.

  Nicole was telling me, too, as we drove, that Ashley was simply going to adore this video tape, and the subsequent photos. I had to agree – I couldn’t wait to show her. We went to Nicole’s loft, at her request, and here’s a rundown of the video from there on.

  She stood in the middle of the main area of the loft, sun shining through the skylights, in the yellow mini and see-through white satin shirt, legs spread apart, hands on hips, and I started the video recorder. The light from above played well across her body; her dark-nippled breasts were visible under the fabric. Her hands wandered from her hips to her breasts, gently gliding up, then to her neck, her face, her hair; she stretched upward, as if she were trying to touch the light, causing the yellow mini to stretch as well, where I went for a close-up and caught her cunt peeking out.

  I zoomed back as she began to unbutton the blouse, slowly, one at a time, her eyes peering into the camera with alien intent. She removed the blouse and let it fall to the floor, sticking her chest out, standing sideways, pulling at her nipples to cause them to be more tense. The bag was on the floor near her feet, and she looked at it.

  She said, “I didn’t show you what else I have in my little bag of tricks.”

  She bent down to the bag; I quickly went around and stopped behind her to zoom into that bend-over shot and the view of her ass. She turned, abruptly, holding two red clothes-pins.

  She said, “Get this.” I zoomed in to one of the clothespins, followed it as she carefully placed it on her left nipple. She hissed, smiled. She put the other one on her right nipple. She kicked off her heels. She massaged her breasts around the nipples. I wanted to ask if the pins hurt, but it was a dumb question, because I knew they hurt, and she wanted them to hurt.

  She took another dildo out from the bag – this one was normal-sized, regular, made of some sort of rubbery white plastic. “This is Lola,” she said, “my friend.” She put the dildo in her mouth, taking the whole thing down, releasing it full of saliva. She walked toward the couch and I followed, where she got on her knees on the couch, crouched over, ass out, and reached under herself to put the dildo into her cunt.

  “Do it for me again,” she said; and again, camera in one hand, I took the dildo with my free hand and proceeded to fuck her with it as she rubbed her clit. I moved the dildo from her cunt to her ass, where she easily opened to accommodate.

  What followed was a fairly long dildo-ass fucking as she masturbated and brought herself to orgasm three times. My hand was getting tired. Finally, she turned over, took the dildo from me, and sucked on it. It was clean but smelled that erotic aroma of ass.

  She said, “Sit down.” I sat down, camera still on her: she stood before me, yellow leather bunched up, nipples red-white from the pressure of the pins. She bent down, into my lap, and started to unbutton my pants.

  “Wait,” I said.

  She looked up and said, “What do you mean, wait? Ashley will enjoy seeing this.”

  I nodded and agreed (although still uncertain) and that brief moment of distressed hesitation passed – lust always wins in these situations, and my cock had been hard for a good forty minutes from all this observation. She pulled my pants and underwear off my legs so that I was free and naked and ready for her touch, her kiss, her engulf.

  She managed a few deep-throat maneuvers, but her penetration was pretty much the same as Ashley’s, although with Nicole, there was a lot of saliva. She spat gobs of saliva on my cock, sucked, pulled away, thick strands from her lips to the head of my cock. Saliva gooed down onto my balls, where she quickly lapped it up, and spat it back out. She did the same with my semen, when I came: she held my expulsion in her mouth, slowly spitting it out into a white puddle in the palm of her hand, then applying it all over my penis, making it sticky and wet. She started to suck on it again, half-erect, getting my come back into her mouth, where she proceeded to spit it back out and play with it on my flesh.

  It was something to watch from the viewfinder, and I found myself anticipating when I (and Ashley) could see it on a TV screen. I was flaccid, but she continued to suck and kiss.

  Nicole

  Nicole told us about a different club, one she liked better than our usual haunt, which was downtown and closer to her loft. She wanted Ashley to wear The Dress there. By this point, Ashley was less concerned with running into anyone we knew, or from her work, and was even less worried about going out into public with The Dress – that is, I didn’t need to give her any pep talks. I sort of missed them.

  She was eager to see Nicole, as was I, although I sensed anxiety. I still wasn’t sure what Ashley thought of the video tape. When we first showed it to my wife, she was delighted; over the next few days, however, Ashley seemed distant, contemplative, and one time incensed when responding to me. On a particular night, when I attempted to make love to her, she was cold at my touch, but took me anywa
y, lying there. I asked her what was wrong and she said it was nothing, she said there was a lot of pressure at work right now with the Spring list coming out. I felt there was something else, and asked if it were the tape.

  “No,” she said, “no.”

  “Are you sure?” I said. “You didn’t mind me being alone with Nicole that day?”

  “No,” she said. “Just tell me, next time.”

  I’m not sure how truthful she was being, but I hoped this wasn’t the case – fearful of those little angry feelings kept hidden, exploding later. This is what happened when we almost separated, and I didn’t want to go through it again. Communication, that was the important thing; communication.

  The club was smaller and darker than the other, with only two tiers. The crowd was younger as well, and the music louder. Nicole called out to us from a large, U-shaped leather booth, where she sat with two people – a muscular man with swarthy skin, uncommonly handsome, and an Asian woman. Nicole was wearing a black lace bodysuit and leather jacket, more make-up on than usual. Her hair was also spiked with jell. As we approached the table, Nicole stopped us before we sat and said to the people she was with, “This is the dress I told you about.” To Ashley, she said, “Can you turn around and show them what you got?”

  Ashley was hesitant, but a glare from Nicole prompted her, and she turned around like an item on display. The couple nodded their heads with approval. Ashley and I sat in the booth, Ashley next to Nicole; the couple were across from us.

  The man’s name was Serge, he was Italian, in a tight t-shirt and tight black slacks. The woman was Tina, Eurasian with a slight accent, and she wore a flower-print mini-dress cut low in back. They were old friends of Nicole’s, apparently, or new friends, I wasn’t quite clear on the status. They made me nervous, and at the same time aroused: they were a beautiful young couple (I’d say in their mid-twenties). Tina had the most piercing small, slanted black eyes, and I sensed pure decadence from within her. Serge appeared the happy-go-lucky type.