Wax Museum: An Erotic Short Story

by Lashe, Lexie

  Wax Museum: An Erotic Short Story

  by

  Lexie Lashe

  Wax Museum © Copyright 2013 by Lexie Lashe

  First Electronic Printing March 2013, The Raven Books

  Cover art by Natalie Winters, © Copyright 2012-2013

  Edited by Suz Gower

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

  Published by The Raven Books

  All books copyrighted to the author and may not be resold or given away without written permission from the author, Lexie Lashe.

  This novel is a work of fiction. Any and all characters, events, and places are of the author’s imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or events or places is merely coincidence.

  Published by The Raven Books

  www.ravenhappyhour.com www.theravenbooks.com

  Raven Books and all affiliate sites and projects are © Copyrighted 2004-2013

  Wax Museum: An Erotic Short Story

  by

  Lexie Lashe

  Table of Contents

  Wax Museum: An Erotic Short Story

  Dedication

  Wax Museum

  About The Author

  Lexie on Amazon

  Books by Lexie Lashe

  The Raven Books’ Complimentary Material

  Let the Wild Out by Madelyn Porter

  Take Me by Elle Erotique

  A Hired Affair by Lydia Brookes

  Strength in Numbers by Reagan Hawk

  Wax Museum

  When her eccentric roommate talks her into visiting a sexy wax museum, Sandra isn’t prepared for just how lifelike and erotic the sculptures really are--especially the well-endowed Mr. Lumberjack whose yummy body beckons her to join him.

  Warning: This short erotica story contains no romantic thread.

  Books by Lexie Lashe

  Wax Museum

  Club Fetish

  Decadence and Sin

  Séance and Sin

  Submission and Sin

  Dedication

  To Max: You rule the world. Just…don’t wear the cape.

  Wax Museum

  by

  Lexie Lashe

  “Wax porn,” Sandra laughed. She glanced at her best friend and roommate, Max. He was always dragging her out to see something new, but the tall, western, brothel-style building was the last thing she’d expected. From one of the top windows a wax male figure leaned out over the fake wooden balcony. Three hands massaged his chest from behind, though the women who touched him were hidden from view. Next to them, a salon girl peeked out of her window to watch. Her period costume covered her upper body—barely. “You brought me to look at wax porn.”

  “I got an invitation,” Max said, giving her an impish grin. “How could I say no?”

  “Easily. Stop being a social-network whore and stop joining every mailing list that will have you. Five hours a day on the computer is four too many.”

  “But the emails say they’re important,” he answered. “And how else would you have seen live, naked, bungee jumping? Or the pants-less flash mob?”

  “That mob contained more jiggling penises than I ever want to see in one place again.”

  Max laughed as he started rocking his hips to simulate the flash mob’s gyrating dance moves. “You know you liked it.”

  She slugged him lightly in the shoulder to get him to stop. “You do know everything I know about wax museums comes from horror movies.”

  Sandra turned her attention to the next display. It was a scene from the French Court in the palace of King Louis. A noblewoman had an expression of pleasure on her face as a man’s boots poked out from under her oversized gown. It was so realistic; she could see the scuff marks on the soles from everyday wear. “Is it wrong I’m jealous someone is getting laid? Even if they are made out of melted candles?”

  “You are pathetic, Sandy,” Max said. “I have no idea why you’re not getting any. You could have almost any guy you want and you bitch about not being able to get laid. Seriously, guys are easy. You find one in a bar, crook your finger at him and he’ll do whatever you want him to. We’re simple creatures. We eat, sleep and try to fuck whoever will have us.”

  “Charming,” Sandra drawled, “and you wonder why we’re just roommates.”

  “Er, no, we’re just roommates because you don’t have a penis.”

  “Ah, that’s it.” She gave a wry laugh. “I keep forgetting.”

  “Enough jokes,” he said, hooking her arm. “Let’s go behind the curtain.” He pointed to a sign that read Warning: Erotica Gallery. By entering you agree that the museum is not liable for anything that might happen inside.

  “What do you think that’s all about?” Sandra asked. “People getting busy freaked out a couple of customers or something? Some lady fainted because she thought the displays were moving and it was really a horny couple?”

  “These displays are a little creepy.” Max’s hand tightened on her arm. “I swear their eyes follow us.”

  “Actually, I did a college paper on the phenomena.” Sandra stopped near the sign before entering, pointing to the face of a very athletic man looking out from the inside of a 1950’s Chevy. He had a half smile on his face and a brunette bent over his lap. “It all has to do with perspective and how the artist uses the highlights and shadow of the paint. Since the paint is fixed in place, wherever you walk the position of it doesn’t change and it creates the illusion that the eyes are following you. But—”

  “I take it back. I know exactly why you’re not getting laid,” Max interrupted. “You are such a geek.”

  She laughed, knowing full and well he meant it with love…even though it was true.

  “Actually,” a voice said, “it is because the wax is magical and has a life of its own. The people and places are blessed, or cursed, depending on your definition of the word.”

  Sandra turned to look at the man who spoke. He was in his late sixties, and wore a smock that strangely matched the gray hair of his temples.

  “You must be the artist,” Max said.

  “You’re very talented.” Sandra said a silent prayer her friend wouldn’t say anything asinine to embarrass her. Max didn’t always have a filter.

  The artist looked at her. “I like your face. You would make a fine addition.”

  “You…” She blinked in confusion, glancing around. “You want me to model for you?”

  “Perhaps.” He walked away, moving to a group waiting by the front door. “But it is not really up to me. It is the wax that makes the decision.”

  “See, I told you guys wanted you,” Max teased.

  “Please, he’s like my dad’s age. And I’m pretty sure he just said he wanted to encase me in wax.” Sandra pushed the curtain aside and walked into the erotica room.

  The first displays didn’t really do anything for her—bondage gear, paddle spanking, grown men pretending to be babies. The artistic details were amazing and she could appreciate that much, but they weren’t her scene and she didn’t find them particularly arousing. She wasn’t into men crapping in their diapers so their nannies could change them—no matter how aroused their male parts appeared.

  “To each their own,” she mumbled, moving on.

  The displays formed a path through the room, forcing the onlookers to walk in a single direction through the museum. There was a woman being fucked on a pool table, her breast squished in her lover’s palm. A 1960s couple made love before the light of a black-and-white television show. A blanket molded around their bodies as the husband remained eternally on top, mid-thrust. Two drug addicts had dirty sex in a dank alley. Another couple did it in a bathroom stall. A man jerked off to the peep s
how dancer’s ass pressed intimately against glass.

  Suddenly, the pathway split. Two male symbols pointed in one direction, two female in another, and then a male and female in a third. Max laughed, pushing her to what he called the “straight hall” while he went to explore something a little more to his taste.

  Now alone, she wandered into the hall. A small chill worked over her as the lights dimmed. The displays became intimate—a kiss, a caress, a lingering look. There was a lifted skirt and a hand upon a thigh. Her stomach tightened in longing. This was what she craved—desire. More than anything she wanted to be desired. She wanted a man to look at her, deep and sure, like the cover of some grocery store romance novel. She wanted a man so passionate for her that he didn’t stop to think. A real man, a strong man, an alpha.

  Just as she thought it, she came upon the perfect specimen of her fantasy—a lone man standing before a long stretch of forest, which was cut by a dirt path. Dark, shoulder-length hair framed sinfully dark eyes. They seemed to call to her, beckoning her in. Behind him was the hint of a cabin. Her eyes traveled down to a bare chest, to snuggly fitted jeans and sturdy work boots. His nipples looked erect, matching the clear outline his hard cock formed beneath his jeans. The man was aroused.

  “How sad for you, lumberjack,” Sandra said to no one in particular, taking her fill of him. “Stuck in a permanent state of arousal.”

  Now this was a man—strong, outdoorsy, confident. What she wouldn’t do to him if he was real and they were alone.

  A flannel shirt lay across a nearby log, held down by an axe. She stepped slowly to the side, trying to peek deeper into the forest. Who was he waiting for? More of the cabin came into view. The painted background was terrifically realistic. She wondered how deep the display actually went. Sandra glanced around, searching for security cameras or guards. Not seeing any, she quickly reached forward to touch a tree trunk. The wax was firm beneath her fingers. Then, glancing around again, she came to the man. Quickly, she reached to touch the hard length in his pants. A giggle escaped her at the small display of naughtiness.

  “You are a big lumberjack, aren’t you?” Sandra said. “Too bad they don’t make men like you in real life.”

  She began to walk away, but something stopped her. She turned to him once more. Then, reaching out, she moved to touch his cock. Something compelled her to want to feel it. She pressed her palm more firmly against him, running her fingers up and down the hard length. For wax it felt really nice, warm and so lifelike. Her sex wetted with cream. Her nipples tingled.

  Suddenly, a hand grasped her wrist and pulled her toward the display. She let loose a scream of surprise as she tumbled to the waxy ground. With a hard thud, her face slammed into dirt.

  “Finally,” a gruff voice said.

  Blinking in confusion, she tried to get her bearings as she pushed up. The air was sweet and a cool breeze hit the back of her head. The trees moved. Terrified, she turned to get out of the display, but the museum was gone. In its place was more forest.

  “What’s happening?” she asked, her voice shaking almost as badly as her limbs.

  “Finally,” the voice said again. The lumberjack was moving, talking.

  “Max set this up,” she said, voicing the only explanation she could think of. “That bitch.”

  The lumberjack made a move toward her, stalking her like his prey. She lifted her hand to stop the hallucination. Instead, he grabbed her and pulled her fingers to his very aroused cock. A low moan sounded and he began undoing his belt with one hand as he kept her fingers to him with the other. For a moment, she was too stunned to protest. Despite herself, she felt a shock of awareness in her pussy. Cream gathered between her thighs, dampening her panties so they clung to her sex.

  She looked around the forest. A bird squawked. Bugs chirped. Feeling heat, she turned her attention back to the man. He had pulled her hand down the front of his opened pants, forcing her to massage his cock.

  She jerked away from him. The feel of him tingled against her palm and she wiped it against her leg to erase the sensation. “What are you doing? What is this? Where am I? Are you an escort?”

  “You’re in my fantasy. I’ve been waiting for a very long time.” He strode forward and took her by the back of the neck to jerk her to his chest. His mouth hit hers in a hard kiss. She made a small noise of surprise. His lips moved insistently, and for a long moment she made no move to stop him.

  Then, as if coming to her senses, she pushed his chest. She breathed hard and hurried toward where the display should be. She didn’t care that it looked like forest. If she got in, there had to be a way out. With a hard smack, she ran into a barrier and fell back. She ignored the pain, instead crawling toward the invisible wall trapping her in the strange world.

  Her hand hit the wall, and she searched it for an opening. Then, from behind, the lumberjack grabbed her hips and pulled. Without her realizing what he was up to, he had knelt behind her. The hard press of his cock hit her ass and she moaned, more surprised at her physical response than what he did to cause it.

  “Ah, there’s a lover,” he said. Hands fumbled at her waist, trying to unfasten her jeans. She tried to crawl along the invisible barrier. He moved with her a few paces, his movements hampered by the fact he was on his hands and knees. He directed her around toward the tree stump holding his shirt and axe.

  Sandra’s heart beat at a feverish tempo. Seeing the weapon, she wasn’t sure if she should go for it or run the other direction. Since the man was clearly leading her toward the axe, she hurried forward and reached to grab the handle. He instantly let go of her and moved to take it. His grip was strong and he managed to jerk it from her easily.

  “There is no need for that.” He tossed it aside and it landed several feet down the path. He began to push his pants from his hips. “Now, how would you like me to take you? Or would you like to suck me first?”

  “Whatever you think is happening is not happening. This is a hallucination, or a delusion, or a psychotic break.”

  “This is magic. Old magic. I paid my debt and earned my prize. You are my prize. Why are you resisting? You would not have come in had you not been aroused by me. You reached for me. You wanted me first and…” he paused, breathing deeply as if he could smell her, “I accept your invitation.”

  Sandra barely heard him. She stared at his naked cock. The size of it caused a small shiver of apprehension, even as moisture wet her pussy. The smooth shaft and blunt tip showed the full heat of his arousal, so hard that veins had begun to rise along the shaft. He was right. She had lusted for him as she stared at his perfect male body. But now wax had turned to flesh and he was here, ready to take her, to be the man, the alpha she needed. A bizarre spell wound over her senses as she found she wanted to comply. Who would know? She was clearly hallucinating. And she wanted him so badly.

  She pulled at her shirt, answering him with her actions. She had to stand to completely undress. His eyes watched her. His hand stroked his cock. The second her last piece of clothing hit the ground, he went for her.

  He kissed her hard, not waiting for permission. The warmth of his tongue slid into her mouth. He shoved his body against hers, letting her feel every hard inch, or at least the inches demanding the most attention at the moment.

  An insistent hand pushed down on her shoulder, forcing her to her knees. He took his cock in hand, guiding it to her mouth. Sandra wasn’t sure why she obeyed, but she did. She took him in her mouth, swallowing the tip between her lips. He grabbed the back of her head, choking her with his cock as he fucked her mouth. She found it hard to breathe and pushed at his hips, ripping her mouth away. He made a low growling noise, as if possessed.

  “Then turn,” he ordered.

  Before she realized what he planned on doing, he had her leaning against the cut tree trunk with his flannel shirt padding her breasts. He came behind her, drawing his cock to her pussy. There was little coaxing before he shoved it inside. The thick cock stretched her, prying
her body open in one rough, hard jerk.

  “Oh, that’s a wet, sweet cunt,” he said. “Take all of it.”

  Sandra answered with a light cry. She had thought he’d given her the entire length of his cock. Her pussy was so full of him. But he pushed deeper, barely giving her time to adjust before truly giving her the full, thick shaft. His balls hit the back of her ass and he stopped.

  “Good, good,” he soothed. He stroked her hair and back as if she were a wild beast he’d just tamed. “There you go. That’s it.” The lumberjack pulled out only to thrust forward. He hit her deep. “That’s a good lover.”

  The lumberjack pulled back and thrust forward several times, getting faster with each pass until his thick cock hammered into her. She had never felt so controlled, and yet the power of him excited her. He was a man who took what he wanted, unapologetic and confident. Men were not built like this in her experience—at least not in a good way.

  Primal grunts punctuated each plunge of his cock into her pussy. Her breasts slid against the rough texture of the wood, but the flannel kept it from hurting. He dug his fingers into her flesh as he pumped in and out.

  “I have longed for this release,” he said, more to himself than to her. She barely heard him. The feel of his cock felt so good. It had been so long, too long. Her vibrators couldn’t compare to the feel of real flesh. The moment she began to orgasm, he too came, as if he’d timed their release. Her pussy trembled and clenched, becoming slick with his cum.

  He patted her hip, pulling out of her. She collapsed fully against the tree stump, too stunned to protest, too sated to move.

  “What just happened?” she whispered, feeling numb pleasure all the way to her toes. She hadn’t even thought such an orgasm was possible.

  “I took my prize,” the man stated. “And I will take it again.”