by Violet Blue
Mike’s hand travels under my skirt and he feels the thong, feels it soaked with my juices, slips his finger underneath the crotch and into me. I can feel a dribble of liquid running out; I hear Mike chuckling.
“Don’t even try to play hard-to-get now, Ursula,” he says, and he pulls my skirt all the way up, tucking it over my waist as his hands work around my hips and force their way under my ass, getting hold of the thong. “Thong panties, shaved puss, and you are the wettest girl I ever had the pleasure of feeling. When a girl’s gonna try to play virgin, she wears boxers. You must need this pretty bad.” He lets my thighs come together and he pulls the thong down, past my knees, past my calves, over my ankles. He cranks the windows down and tosses them out onto the park road. “You look better without them, anyway,” he says.
This time it’s short work getting my legs open, since I know I can’t resist. I can feel Jason’s hand working under my head and hear the rattling of his belt buckle as he undoes it. I know what’s coming next, and my mouth is watering so much I couldn’t say no if I tried, but saying no is half the fun. He’s still got hold of my hair, and he guides my face down into his crotch as he pulls his hard cock out of his pants. “Come on,” he says. “I know you know how.” That’s all it takes, and I hardly even know I’m doing it. My mouth is around his cock, hard against my tongue and thick in the back of my throat, and if I had hands free I’d be rubbing myself and coming right about now.
But then, Mike is taking care of that. He’s got two fingers inside me, slowly pumping in and out, and I shudder every time he hits my G-spot. He keeps up the slow rhythm as he lets the thumb of his other hand join its brothers in my pussy, just for a second, making me gasp as my pussy is stretched wide. But he’s just getting it wet, a fact I don’t realize until I feel his thumb sliding between my cheeks and working its way up against my anus. I don’t stop sucking Jason’s cock for an instant; it’s an awkward position without any hands, but my hunger for his cock has become so intense that it’s all of one piece, the fingers in my cunt mirroring the hunger for cock in my mouth. I can hear Jason moaning as I take him all the way down, filling my throat with him and holding it deep for as long as I can stand it without breathing. I squirm even more now as I feel Mike’s thumb forcing its way into my ass, against the flesh that’s so tight at first, then hungry and yielding as it gives way and accepts his thick thumb. That’s when I come, hard, pumping Jason’s cock into my mouth as my cunt and asshole spasm around Mike’s hands. “Oh, yeah,” coos Mike. “You’ve been needing this, little girl, haven’t you, Ursula?”
The car is thick with male sweat and pre-cum. It’s so hot in here I’m slicked with sweat myself, mine and Mike’s and Jason’s. I’m slippery as an eel.
Jason’s let go of my hair, now, his hands caressing my breasts and pinching the nipples as Mike gets his pants open. It’s obvious I don’t need to be controlled; my hunger for cock has taken me over , and I’m an expert. Jason pinches my nipples harder as he comes, his cock jetting sharp semen into my mouth and down my throat. I swallow as much as I can, sucking on his cock as he finishes and it softens quickly. Then I feel it: the thick head of Mike’s cock against my vulva, teasing me, working my lips open. His thumb’s still in my back door, and he’s using it like a handle to make sure he can control where my crotch goes. Even in this big car there’s not much room in a backseat; one of my ankles is up against the back window and the other is tucked under the front seat. Mike is turned to one side and his cock just reaches me, making me gasp as he enters me.
Jason is easing me out of his lap, getting out of the car. I realize we’ve stopped; with the door open I can smell the eucalyptus that tells me we’re at the very summit, probably the back part of it, totally hidden from patroling cops or passersby—most of the time. Jason slams the door closed and Mike slips his cock out of me, loses his shirt, and climbs onto me, my wrists wedged under my body, which would be uncomfortable if he didn’t put his hand in my hair and grip tight as he mounts me, making sure my head doesn’t slip back and hit the door. I wonder if Eric is going to take his turn or if they’ll let Mike have me all to himself for a minute. Then all that’s gone and Mike is entering me again, his cock feeling so much bigger at this angle, filling me up as he forces his thumb into my mouth. I taste the muskiness of my own asshole and feel momentarily embarassed that it propels a wave of arousal through me just as I feel Mike’s cock reach my deepest point, his cockhead grinding against my cervix. My G-spot feels swollen, engorged, more sensitive than it’s ever been, and I know I’m going to come again before he’s through with me. His naked chest is wet all over, his sweat dripping on my face and breasts; I open my mouth wide and feel it hitting my tongue like salty summer rain. God, these guys should get Oscars, or maybe Tonys. As he looks down into my open mouth, he lets a ball of spit form between his pursed lips and it hits me, square on the tongue, tasteless and overwhelming. I feel the warm liquid sliding down my throat and look up at Mike, more hungry than ever for him.
Mike begins to fuck me, slowly at first, then harder and faster as he senses that I like having my cervix pounded. I’m squealing now, for real, my whole body alive with the sensations as Mike’s cock fills me. His muscled body works faster and faster as he forces his mouth against mine, his tongue sliding in deep as I rise toward my second orgasm.
The door comes open. “Hey, is it standing-room-only in there?”
“Rumor has it she likes it in both holes,” says Mike. “All three, actually. You really went to town on Jason’s cock, Ursula.”
“Oh, that’s sweet,” says Eric. “I’ve been needing to have my knob polished. She does it real good?”
“Fuck,” I hear Jason’s voice, outside, wafting in on the smell of cigarette smoke. “I ain’t never had a suck-job that good. She’ll fuckin’ suck the enamel right off your teeth.”
“Just don’t you start suckin’ it,” says Eric, the four of them chuckling and enjoying their little homophobic joke, and the rush of male-bonding energy is so intense it almost makes me come. I’m being used, I realize, used like a buffer between these men, to get their needs met and prove they’re as tough as one another. Then Mike’s cock slams into me again and he pulls himself up half-onto his haunches, scrunching forward as Eric gets hold of my shoulders and pulls me over to the edge of the car seat, my head hanging out upside down now as he gets his pants open and leans down low, one hand against the roof of the car, the other on my face, thumb working open my mouth so that he knows I’m wide open and ready for him—as if I could possibly say no, now, in this position, hovering on the brink of a second orgasm twice as intense as the first. Best of all, with Mike leaning back like that he can reach down and rub his thumb against my clit, and I’m moaning in mindless, savage desperation by the time I feel Eric’s cock on my tongue. If I could grab it and force it deeper I would, but he controls everything, and he only gives me half, now, making sure I don’t choke, one faint warp in the fabric of this reality they’ve created. But once he knows I can handle it, he pushes deeper, and I take a deep breath just in time to feel his cock against the entrance to my throat; he feels as if he’s going to pull back, but I give a sudden excited whimper and he gets the message: I feel him entering my throat smoothly, in one gentle thrust, until my nose is against his balls and I inhale deeply of his scent. He does it another couple of times very, very slowly, and each time I whimper and nod slightly to let him know it’s OK, taking deep breaths between thrusts. That’s when he starts in earnest, his hips pumping and forcing his cock rhythmically into my throat. I have to time my breaths perfectly, but I’ve had a lot of practice—this is one of the favorite games you and I play, you fucking me like this. Now I’m just a passive receiver, and knowing he’s going to do this to me until he comes makes me relax into the feel of two men inside me, both deep, both pumping, straining, striving. That’s when I realize how close I am to coming. Right on the brink, in fact, because in this position Mike’s cockhead is rubbing my G-spot mercilessly,
and his thumb is on my clit. I don’t know how I keep breathing in the right rhythm as my body explodes in orgasm, but I do—and I can feel Eric enjoying me just as much as Mike for every instant of my intense orgasm.
But they both stop pumping as I finish, and they’re both chuckling. “You thinking what I’m thinking?” says Eric, and Mike pulls his dripping cock out of my pussy, Eric out of my mouth, dribbling saliva down over my face. Out comes the knife, and I’ve been so totally engulfed that I don’t feel an instant’s fear. They cut the ropes around my wrists and pull me out of the car, stripping off my blouse and bra and leaving them, discarded, in the dirt. Eric holds me and kisses my neck while Mike bends down and removes my skirt. Now I’m naked except for the garter belt, stockings, and shoes, and I feel Mike pushing me up against the side of the car and holding me there while a bright flash goes off, then another, then another. Polaroids: They’re documenting my disgrace to jerk off to later. The only thing that makes it hotter is seeing the face dancing in my eyes amid the sparkling blue afterglow: You, grinning wide with a lit cigarette dangling out of the corner of your mouth, and, I see when I look down, the shadow of your cock illuminated huge and hard in the reflection off the lake.
Mike pushes me over to the front of the car, where he leans back on the hood and bends me forward. Eric’s in front of me, his pants still open, his cock still hard, his arms around me to support me as I lean as far forward as I can go. I realize what they’re planning as soon as I feel the cold squirt of lubricant in my crack, feel Mike’s thumb massaging me open. Oh God, can I really take them both? I have been brought under so far that I can’t possibly even utter the question, just open wide and accept everything that is done to me. Mike pulls me into his lap, lifting me with Eric’s help so that he can fit his lube-slicked cockhead between my cheeks. My eyes go wide and I almost choke as I feel it entering me, but he goes slow. I clench my muscles and then relax as I wriggle myself down; with a sudden surge, I feel the thick cockhead pop into me, feel my body sliding slowly down the shaft as Eric and Mike release me. Oh God, I think. It’s really in my ass. I almost can’t believe it went in so smoothly, and it feels incredible there. But there’s still more cock to be had.
Eric takes off his shirt and pulls his pants down to his ankles so that he can get at me better. Now that I’m sitting in Mike’s lap with his cock in my ass, I’m at the perfect height for Eric’s frame. He spreads my yielding legs and gets his cock between my pussy lips; then he slides it home and I see stars as I’m filled fuller than ever.
Moaning between their straining, sweating bodies, I reach down and begin to rub my clit. Eric snatches my wrist and pulls it away, saying, “Let me do that, Ursula. Your cunt’s gonna feel so good around my cock when you come.” He starts rubbing, and it’s as if he’s known my body for years, knows exactly how to make me come. Jason is there, next to us, his cock out and hard again as he works it in his fist. I meet his eyes with mine and beckon him in with my opened mouth; he crowds over to us and climbs onto the hood of the car. I catch a glimpse of you, watching, smiling, and smoking in the dark, and I beckon to you with my hand, wanting one more hard cock to satisfy me. But you just shake your head and stand there. Then Jason thrusts his cock in my face, and I take it in my mouth, tasting the residue of cum from the last time I sucked it. That doesn’t deter me a bit, nor does it slow Jason down. The three sweating bodies pump into me, filling everything I have to be filled except the need to have you with me. But for now, I can’t even think about that; I’m too busy feeling Mike fuck his way into my wide-open ass, Eric close in on his orgasm, and Jason grasp my hair so that he can pump his hips, working his cock into my mouth with a familiar rhythm. I’ve got one hand around the base of Jason’s cock, trying to milk him into my mouth. But it’s Eric who comes first, pumping into my cunt and shooting inside me. I moan “Yeah, yeah” as he comes, and when he pulls out I feel Mike getting ready to do it. I usually don’t like you to come inside my ass, but this time it’s all I’ve ever wanted to feel to have Mike’s cum jetting into my back door. He holds my hips, bouncing me up and down so that the whole car squeaks and wobbles in time with our fucking. Then he’s grunting, and my ass is so tight around his cock that I can feel him injecting me, his cock spasming deep inside, the warmth flooding me. Jason’s ready to come, too, and I pump his cock with my hand so that I can taste each jet of him as he comes in my mouth.
Slowly they pull themselves away from me, leaving me dripping their semen and covered in their sweat. My hair is tangled from having it pulled so much, and my throat and pussy and mouth all ache, raw and reddened. I am more sated than I ever have been in my life. But when they ease me to my feet and I see you standing there, smiling, holding my dirt-smeared clothes up for me to get dressed, I don’t hesitate for an instant; I know what I have to do.
I’m down on my knees in the dirt before you know what’s happening. You start to protest as I push you back against the hood of the car, and your belt comes open easily in my hand. I hear the three men around us chuckling, making comments about how now that I’ve been “broken in” all I want to do is suck cock. But they know when to keep their distance.
I unzip your pants and find you hard, ready for me. I take you in my mouth and it feels as if I’m going to come again as a shudder goes through my body. How can your cock taste so different than all the others? How can it practically make me come from touching my tongue, how can the taste of it fill me with such satisfaction? Because you’re the lover who would orchestrate this for me, who would arrange my abduction with our three closest friends, a triad of gay men who, I guess, are more bi than they ever let on. And this cock in my mouth is the cock that spawned it all, the filthy, hard organ that guides all your dirtiest, darkest fantasies for me.
I want to suck you forever, but I can feel how turned on you are. It’s as if you didn’t want to let me know, didn’t want to spoil the focus, didn’t want it to be about you getting off, rather than me. But you getting off is what gets me off, and for this last, pyrotechnic orgasm we’re both going to come if it’s the last thing we do. Down on my knees with my legs spread wide, sharp rocks cutting into my flesh, I can massage your balls with one hand while I rub my clit with the other, all the while sucking you with a hunger that surprises even me. You’re going to come, you’re going to come so soon, and I want the sensation of exploding with my final orgasm while I feel your cock letting go inside me.
I slip your cock out of my mouth, drool raining on my hand and arm as I lave the underside with my tongue, panting hot and hard all over it. “Come for me,” I whisper as I rub my clit. “Come in my mouth, ‘Charlie.’ ”
Then it’s one quick roll of your cock against my cheek, the texture silky and slick with spit, and I’m back on you, my mouth holding you tight, pumping up and down on your cock as I rush toward climax, rubbing my clit but trying to hold off until you start to come—and then you let out a groan and I feel the jet on my tongue, and it doesn’t even take another stroke of my hand before my whole body is consumed in my own orgasm, like ocean waves rushing over me, drowning me like your salty cum.
When we both finish, I lick you all over one more time, licking you clean. I tuck your cock into your underwear, zip your jeans, buckle your belt. I look up at you, a woman in love, down on her knees, and if I ever wondered how lucky I am, now I know.
You hold out my blouse.
I shake my head, slowly slink to my feet, and kiss you. “Drive me home naked,” I tell you, my body sweaty against yours. “For that matter, let someone else drive.”
Sailor Boy
ALISON TYLER
To me, the term macho means masculine. Powerful. Butch. Given this definition, the word doesn’t even begin to describe my husband, Alexander. Tall and strong, he has a deep, commanding voice that resonates when he talks, vibrates inside my head when he says my name. I like to watch him move, to watch him stride. When he cuts through a crowd, people move out of his way.
Before we met, Alexande
r was a commercial fisherman, spending eight rough years at work on a variety of vessels. He lived thirty days at sea at a time, followed by one-week breaks on land. He credits his time aboard ship for building his spirit, his mind, his body. At sea, Alex came across as the toughest of the bunch. There were no women on the fishing boats—chicks on board are considered bad luck—and there was no sexual activity among the men (at least, none that anyone would admit to if they wanted to be hired for a second trip). To get the reputation for liking guys meant instant unemployment in the fishing game. But while Alex fulfilled his he-man duties, he lost himself in a forbidden fantasy. One that didn’t come true until he met me.
Many husbands give their wives perfume on February 14th, but my handsome sailor boy gave me something with a twist. Not Chanel Number Five, Joy, or Anaïs Anaïs, but a fancy brand of men’s cologne. “Happy Valentine’s Day, Becky,” he whispered as I tore through the heart-printed wrapping paper to reveal the expensive bottle. I looked at it, looked at Alex, and smiled. I knew exactly what my one true love wanted from Cupid, and I wasn’t about to let him down.
