by Alex Algren
But she pulled away, her face glistening with my juices. “It’s time you gave it a try, Ms. K.” Her dark eyes laughed at me, but I didn’t care; I wanted her so badly.
“I don’t know how—”
“Follow my lead.” She grabbed my hands and pulled me onto the spacious floor of the limo with her. I tugged off the rest of my clothes and watched as she quickly unbuttoned her pants and kicked them off. Realizing that she’d been naked underneath her uniform all night sent a rush of heat straight to my cunt, but the sight of her naked, shaved mound made my mouth go dry with both fear and want.
“I’ll show you what to do,” she said, clearly recognizing the panic in my eyes. She grinned and reached for me. “Just bring that fine ass of yours over here first.”
She positioned me over her, my thighs hugging her head and her pussy in my face, intoxicating me with its heady scent. I felt her mouth on my clit, so I took a deep breath for courage and mimicked her, flicking my tongue over the sensitive tip of her solid bud. Her moans and trembling legs urged me on and gave me a confidence I had never felt before. I copied her motions and played out what I knew I liked. I made a V with my fingers to spread her outer lips apart, exposing her pulsating clit. I caressed her pussy with my tongue, growing more brave and adventurous with her every whimper. She moaned into my cunt, vibrating my clit and sending tremors all through my body.
Sabra slid a finger into my tight cunt, and I let out a groan, my hands digging into her hips. I followed suit by pushing a finger inside her, and sucked on her throbbing clit as her mouth persisted in fucking me out of my mind. She added another finger in my dripping cunt, causing me to shudder and do the same to her. I could feel myself approaching my climax, but I didn’t want to let up on Sabra now. I swirled my tongue over her clit until I felt her cunt close around my thrusting fingers and her hips buck upward toward my face. Her thighs clamped around my ears, muffling the sound of her screams in the limo.
Seconds later, electricity zipped through my bloodstream and headed straight for my clit. My body trembled and shook, and I rocked up and down as I came, burying her face in my pussy. I waited until I’d stopped shaking before I collapsed onto the floor next to her, whimpering while my cunt continued to twitch with aftershocks.
We lay there in silence, slick with sweat, our bodies used, exhausted, and satisfied. I took a few deep breaths as I waited for my heart rate to return to normal. I wondered how to proceed from here, not just tonight but for the rest of my life.
“I hate to say this, but I need to get this baby back.” Despite her casual tone, Sabra’s eyes were apologetic and sincere; she wasn’t just trying to get rid of me.
“Of course.” I tried to sound as casual as she did. We got dressed fairly quickly, and she opened the door for me to step out on my wobbly legs.
“I’ll walk you up,” she said, her eyes twinkling as she offered me her arm.
“You don’t have to.”
“I insist.”
“All right,” I said, suddenly feeling shy again. I held on to her elbow as we walked up the steps to the front door. I admired the way she moved, so unashamed and with no regrets. Right then, I wanted her more than ever. I wanted to be her.
We reached the front door, and I snapped open my purse, looking for my wallet. Sabra held up her hand. “No need. It was my pleasure.”
“Oh. All right.” A deep crimson flush spread over my cheeks as I realized the implications of my actions. The tip had been intended for the driving portion of the evening, and she smiled, assuring me that she understood.
“I hope you found everything to your liking, and that you’ll call on Valvani Limousine Service in the future,” she said, spicing up the requisite business script with her enigmatic grin.
“I will,” I promised, and watched her walk down the path back to her limo. As she yanked open the driver’s side door, I blurted out, “Thanks for the ride.”
Sabra gave me a wink and tipped her cap at me. “You know it, Ms. K.” She slid behind the wheel and pulled away from the curb, and I stood on the top step and stared long after the limo had glided down the street and out of sight, well aware that she’d not only changed my mind, but opened it as well.
WHERE THE RUBBER MEETS THE ROAD
Aimee Pearl
We’re walking down the street and he’s fucking me. Everything’s slippery and delicious.
This is all true.
We’re at the Folsom Street Fair—the annual outdoor kinkfest—and it’s a hot San Francisco September day, hot in a way that only San Francisco can be, and only in September, a wet heat. There’s a swelling between my legs. He’s going to make me gush.
We’re walking in broad daylight. The crowd is thick around us. He rubs a wet thumb against my clit. We move side by side in stride, no pauses. I wonder…
If anyone looked down toward my crotch, they might see his right hand sneaking around the edge of my bright cherry red latex micromini. They might realize that he’s got a finger sliding between my lower lips. What would they think? What would they say?
My skirt is so short that it doesn’t cover the full curve of my ass. You can see my cheeks peeking out from the bottom of the shiny rubber coating. I can’t wear panties in this, and I can’t sit. Can only stand. Can only keep on walking. While he fucks me.
He’s devilishly handsome, this one. His skin is the color of a toasted hazelnut, and twice as tasty. We’ve fucked many times before, but never like this. Never outdoors, in the middle of the street, digits stretching wet rubber wide.
The red of my skirt is polished to a gleam, and I love the way the color looks metallic against my velvet-soft brown skin. This was the first piece of latex I ever bought, the first one I ever tried on. Its tightness around my narrow waist, rounded hips, and plump ass makes me look and feel space-alien-exotic, and draws attention to the fullest part of my body. Yes, my butt has stopped traffic. Who doesn’t like to look at a black diva in red rubber?
For now, though, we’re blending in, seeping into the throng around us. He’s giving me a teasing fuck and my cunt is starting to ache with desire. Pretty soon, I’ll want more fingers, I’ll want to swallow his fist whole. We’ve got to find a doorway to lean into. I can’t come while walking. I’m perched on spiked heels and might fall over.
The orgasms he gives me have been known to cause great commotion.
We find an alley and he pounds me quick and hard, leaves me wet and feeling dirty. This boy has a way with those hands of his. He once made me come while I prepared a cup of tea, holding the kettle, boiling hot and full, precariously. He came behind me at the stove and rammed four fingers into me. Undid me. Unraveled me. I don’t know how I managed to pour steady after that.
But I did.
We’re discovered in our crevice by onlookers, dykes from around town, smiling at the queer couple that is us. I wish he was packing, so that we could give ’em a real show. Unfortunately, he left his dick at home today. Who needs it, I guess, when you’ve got hands like his?
Still, I do crave his cock sometimes. For a moment, as he fucks me roughly one more time for our audience, I imagine him, silicone in hand, rubbing his rubber-covered rubber dick against my rubber-covered rear. Rolling up latex for greater access. Sliding toy into tightness. A fetishistic ass-fuck on a city street, sweaty.
I do it again. Come.
Later, we leave our alley love nest and slide back into the crowded thoroughfare. He runs into a friend, a gorgeous high femme white girl with a buzz cut. Six two in heels, she works as a pro-domme at a local dungeon. Today is her day off, and she and her girlfriend/submissive are strolling through the fair. She’s wearing an ankle-length latex dress, and she’s drenched in sweat. She squats down and lifts her skirt to circulate air around her sweet blonde pussy. I want to swoon, but not from the heat. She complains about the weather, and about the clients who keep spotting her in the crowd and begging to be dominated.
Beside me, he chats casually with her and smiles. He
knows I’m a sucker for a pissed-off femme domme, not to mention one wearing more even latex than I am. From my angle above her, I can see down into her cleavage and admire the beads of wetness on her full breasts. I’m starting to feel wet again myself. He knows. He knows it’s time to fuck me again. He knows it’s time to go for a walk.
On our next date, we meet at midnight, this time in another alley, in a different part of town. He’s hanging out in a club up the street; I’ve been instructed to drive into the alley and wait for him in the backseat. I send him a text to let him know I’ve arrived, and arrange myself to be ready for him. He leaves the club and approaches my car.
I’m wearing a cream-colored knee-length A-line leather skirt. The material is so soft and buttery that most admirers don’t even recognize that it’s made out of leather—at first glance anyway. This skirt always gets a second glance. It’s not short, it’s not tight, and it’s not an eye-catching color. But it manages to exude a subtle sexiness. It’s a great skirt for a dominant woman to wear, because of its strict lines. But I’m a submissive, and I like to wear it to feel encased in it, bound by the leather, however loosely, as it falls around my thighs.
There’s a rap at the window, and I reach over to unlock the door and let him in. Let him get in. Let him come in and fuck me.
As requested, I’m not wearing any panties, although this time it’s not because of the length of my skirt, of course, but because of other constraints of the scene. Namely, he wants quick and easy access to my cunt; he wants to fuck me quickly and then leave me to go back to his friends at the club. It’s all been prearranged. We move like we’re dancing. Only there’s no music, just the sound of leather rubbing against vinyl, and breathing. His breath and mine—mostly mine as he’s fucking me hard and I’m struggling to endure it, to take it all in. He’s packing this time, all right, using one of his biggest cocks.
The day was hot but the night is cold. The windows steam over, and, as I’m parked illegally in a one-way dimly lit alley, I’m beginning to worry if we’ll attract any unwanted attention. He doesn’t seem to be concerned. He was cavalier from the moment he entered the car. He hasn’t said a word to me, in fact. Just leapt in, closed and locked the door behind him, shoved me down onto my stomach, and used one hand to pull his cock out while the other pushed my skirt up.
He’s gripping my skirt, the thin leather bunched into his fist. One of my arms is pinned under me, but with my other I start to reach out and run my hand along his pant leg. I discover he’s wearing leather chaps over his jeans, and that they fit nice and snug. I try to reach far enough to get to the edge of the leather, so I can stroke his crotch. But he’s not having any of this, doesn’t want me to move. He rams his cock into me to the hilt and uses both his arms to hold me down, immobilizing me. My face is buried in the vinyl of the seat, my legs spread wide with one on the seat and the other leaning over the side toward the floor, and all else is sound and heat and motion and fullness. His chaps are rubbing the vinyl, my skirt is rubbing the vinyl, and there’s no room to breathe. I’m gasping for air, wondering which one of us will come first, when suddenly, without warning, he pulls out.
He pulls out, and pulls back, and I can finally catch my breath. But I’m confused. I shift around to see what’s going on, and witness him pulling two things out of his pockets. My eyes go wide as I see that one is a rubber ball gag, and the other is a small packet of my favorite anal-sex lube. He lays the lube packet on my bare ass and speaks for the first time all night.
“Open up.”
I open my mouth to receive the gag, and then he secures the straps in place at the back of my head. Now he twists the tab off the lubricant and dribbles it onto his dick. His second sentence comes at me:
“Get ready.”
The head of his cock is already pressing against my asshole. When we talked about meeting in the alley, he said he wanted things to go quickly. But if he’s seriously thinking of fucking my ass with that big toy, this is going to take a while.
Or so I think.
He works it in with surprising speed. Behind the gag, I’m grunting and half screaming, but he knows I can take it, and I know he’s going to make me. The perverse thrill of submitting to this sadistic “forced” ass-fuck actually causes me to open a little more, which eases his way inside. He’s one step ahead of me, and pushes as I acquiesce.
When his cock is completely in my ass, he pauses for a moment, to give me a chance to feel the extent to which he’s stretched me out, to confirm my own surrender. One moment, and then it’s over. That’s all I get. After that, it’s his turn.
He pounds me hard, fucking me for all he’s worth. He’s determined to come and he knows how to use my ass for his own pleasure. My job is to endure. Gagged, held down, plowed, I am a thing to him. An object. A leather-clad fuck-hole. He slams into my ass, over and over, until he shoots his orgasm into me. It’s not liquid, of course; it’s an energy, and thus, twice as potent. I take every drop, deep into my ass, for him.
And when he’s done, he pulls out gently, undoes my gag gently, slides me over onto my back gently, smoothes down my skirt gently, and gently, very gently, reaches under my skirt and flicks one slick finger against my clit.
I explode.
I come against his hand with a roar, violent waves of pleasure crashing onto me. He holds me as I come, body to body, gripping me tightly until my moans subside.
Then, just as quickly as he entered, he puts his dick back in his pants, zips up, and leaves.
THE WEEKEND
Delilah Devlin
I placed the grocery bag on the counter, set down my purse, then glanced around the airy living room of the cabin. It was early Friday evening—the first night of a lovers’ weekend I’d planned down to the last detail.
The view through the large picture window was of the small lake, the water shining without a single ripple to mar the mirrorlike surface. A lone figure walked along the bank, hands thrust deep into pockets, while the rising wind tore at her pale hair.
I swallowed hard and hesitated. Did she want company? Did she need more time to think about us, about whether we still “worked”?
That’s what this weekend was all about: a last chance to renew our connection. Or maybe this was good-bye. I could no longer read from her expression what went on inside her head.
I wiped my hands along the sides of my thighs and pushed open the glass door that opened onto steps to the path that wound to the narrow beach.
Kari didn’t look my way as I approached. Her arms wrapped around her middle as she stared at the water. “No problem getting away?”
“No. I had the days.”
“Good. Have you unpacked?” At last, she glanced my way. Something in her eyes gave me hope. For the first time in a long time, she met my gaze and really looked at me.
I smiled. “Not yet. But would you like a glass of wine before we get settled?”
“That and a fire. It’s colder than I thought it would be.” She stepped closer. Her arm settled at my waist and she leaned in to hug me from the side.
Kari was the kind to kiss friends on the lips or offer a tight hug, so I couldn’t rely on the gesture to mean anything. I draped an arm around her waist, and we walked slowly back to the cabin.
Inside, the fire took me only minutes. I placed several logs and kindling in the grate and as soon as the crackling fire was built, the air inside the cabin lost its crisp edge. I pulled my sweater over my head, and, dressed only in a tank and my jeans, I sat cross-legged on the hearth rug.
A glass dangled in front of me. “Thanks,” I murmured. “I was supposed to get that. Sorry.”
She sat beside me. “This was a good idea. This weekend.”
“Yeah.” I didn’t know what else to say, hoping she’d let me know what had been on her mind. We’d been so busy working, too tired and stretched to hook up, that we’d drifted apart. I didn’t like feeling like I was in this alone—the only one worried that our relationship was on its last le
gs.
Friends had introduced us, knowing that both Kari and I had dated women before and knowing my preference for waiflike blondes. We shared a lot of the same interests, were close to the same age. I’d ended a long relationship and hadn’t really wanted to fall directly into another, but I did want companionship.
We’d landed in bed together that same night, the attraction so hot and fast that it took my breath away. She was like that. A bolt of lightning not easily captured. Even from the start, I began preparing myself for it to end.
I must have stared at the fire too long. A kiss landed on my shoulder. A hand slipped beneath the hem of my tank and glided upward to cup a breast. Kari moved closer and her body snuggled against my back.
Again, that urgent desperation to connect filled me. I leaned away and drew the shirt over my head, then leaned back again, letting the fire warm my front, her supple body heat my back. I reached behind me and sank my fingers in her silky hair, waiting.
Lips trailed along my neck. “Wanna fuck?” she whispered and bit my earlobe.
I smiled, then shivered because her fingers plucked my nipple a little too hard. “So long as I get a taste and soon.”
Soft laughter gusted against my skin, and she pulled away. I turned to watch as she stripped. She walked naked toward her backpack and drew out a long, thick dildo—one I hadn’t seen before. “I’ve been saving this.”
I lay on my back and shimmied out of my jeans and panties. Watching her rub the gel-shaft around her lips as she walked to me made me wonder again whether she was seeing anyone—someone with a set of balls, because she did love cock.
“Shall I?” I asked, rising on my elbows. Kari liked to be shafted while I sucked her clit.
“Later. I’m going to play first.”
She pressed her heel into my shoulder and shoved me to my back. Then she placed her feet on either side of my hips and squatted. “You have been way too uptight lately.”
