Best Women's Erotica 2010

by Violet Blue

  Turning my kisses into loitering licks across his butt, I savored the taste and aroma of Lee’s heated flesh, feeling him give the occasional involuntary quiver beneath my ministrations. I drew back then, but unable to leave my prize completely, I pressed my right index finger against the top of his crack. Every muscle in Lee tightened as I left my finger in place; saying nothing, doing nothing, but making him wait.

  When the tension of my inaction got to be too much for me, I fished under the duvet for a tube of lube. I flipped its lid open with my free hand, and savoring the anticipation of his reaction, I replaced my poised finger with the nozzle of the tube, and squeezed.

  “Shit!” Right on cue Lee gave an involuntary jerk off the bed, but again I’d been prepared, and held him in place by jamming my knees into the back of his crouched legs. “What the fuck are you doing, woman?”

  Easing a digit into the clear cold gel, I began to massage it over the outer rim of his dark hole, before edging it inside. “Isn’t it obvious, honey, I’m using my equipment.”

  “What? I don’t…”

  “Don’t what?” I spoke softly, continuing to maneuver into his arse, taking delight in the clenching of his muscles as they puckered against my exploration. “Are you honestly telling me you are not enjoying yourself?”

  “But I…” Lee’s groans grew deeper as I began to delve farther.

  “You’ve never had this done to you before. Am I right? Has no one ever buggered this beautiful backside baby? Has no one ever shown you how wonderful it feels to be fucked in this way? Are you really telling me that Lee Cooper, Mr. Sex himself, is an arse-fuck virgin?”

  “I…” Lee’s sentence stalled again. I glanced around at his face. Buried into the depths of my duvet, I could make out his tightly closed eyes and his crimson-flushed cheeks.

  Patting his rump with my free hand, I continued, “So, this belongs to me then. This entrance is just mine. But, I’m not a cruel woman, Mr. Cooper. If you want me to stop, I’ll stop. All you have to do is say the word stop, and I’ll end this, and you can go.” My finger was in up to the hilt now, and I propelled it gently, working the lube deep into him. “So, shall I stop?”

  The stifled whine that came from his throat was indecipherable, and so I asked again as a second digit joined the first. “What was that, honey?”

  “Please…”

  “Please what?” I began to smack his arsecheeks with the small round leather paddle I’d hidden amongst my toys. “Please carry on? Please hit me harder? Please fuck me with something thicker? ’Cos I have something thicker here, honey. I have all the equipment I could possibly need.”

  Sweat was prickling across Lee’s back as I trailed the edge of the paddle between his shoulder blades and down his spine, listening carefully, expecting him to shout out for me to stop, but still he said nothing.

  I could have left my fingers within him longer, so much was I enjoying the sensation of his hole grasping at me, but my body was beginning to demand more attention, and I suddenly resented the fact that Lee’s expert hands were captive, and therefore couldn’t run over my tight breasts, or explore the growing throb between my legs.

  “As you have not asked me to stop, then I must assume you like your current situation, and so…” I retrieved a long thick butt plug from beneath the duvet. Stretching my arm out, I waved the blue plastic length in front of his eyes, “See what I have here? I’m sure it’ll be a perfect fit.”

  Lee’s eyes opened, and blinked, but he said nothing.

  “Do you want me to pop this in, babe? You’ll have to ask me nicely.” My pussy twitched as I waited to hear him beg. Surely I had done enough to make him want it.

  “I…” Again he said no more, so I increased the momentum, and slipped a hand between his legs, trailing a finger along the length of his dick. The growl that left his lips was deep and gruff as I maneuvered my hand farther between him and the bedcovers, brushing his tip with the lightest of touches.

  “Was that a please I heard then?”

  “Oh, shit, oh, fuck.”

  “Swearing at me will simply make me want to punish you more, honey.” And to prove my point, I hit him swiftly with my palm, leaving both my hand and his buttocks stinging.

  “Do it, please, do it!” Lee’s voice cracked with need as he blurted out his request.

  “Do what, honey?”

  “Fuck my arse. Stick that thing in me. Please!!”

  My sigh of victory came out in strangled relief as I removed my fingers and replaced them with the butt plug, relishing the quiet low whimpers that escaped from his throat as Lee’s muscles were stretched to capacity.

  With the plug in place, its cap suctioning against his arse, I instructed him to shuffle up the bed and turn over. Untying his wrists, I lay on top of him, and staring into his watering, hungry eyes, I eased his cock between my slick pussy lips. “So honey, do I have the equipment?”

  Lee lifted his stiff arms to my tits, and began to knead them with wonderfully rough pinches. I plunged against him, my head full of the fact that he was being fucked from both sides. Grunting out his words, the mechanic brought his lips to my neck, nipping with savage bites. “I think you could say that.”

  Abandoning my mistress pose in the face of my curiosity, I asked, “How does it feel, babe?”

  “As firsts go, this is one of the best.” Lee bought his arms around to my backside and began to spank me in retaliation for my treatment of him. Then, without warning, he slid a finger into my anus, and I moaned in ecstasy as his mouth crushed mine.

  It was too much for me, already close to overload from my conquest of his virgin backside; I felt the tension climb within my stomach just as Lee grabbed my pigtail and yanked it sharply. As he closed his eyes into tight lines, spots of red dotted across my lover’s chest as we thrust harder against each other. Every nerve in my body seemed to ignite at once, and suddenly we were both coming in an outpouring of mutual groans.

  Lee’s hands ran through the pile of sex toys that remained hidden beneath my duvet, his fingers lingering over the silk tie I’d so recently restrained him with.

  Standing next to me, he picked up a second, thicker, butt plug. “I’d never seen one of these in real life before.” He looked at me out of the corner of his eye. “Do you like using it on yourself?”

  I smiled mischievously. “Yes, I do.” I nodded in the direction of the toy he held so reverently. “That one is not for beginners, honey.”

  “You play with all of this stuff on your own?” He weighed a frighteningly long vibrator in his palm as he spoke.

  “Most of it.” I could feel the heat of the room rise around us as I replied, “For some things, I need a friend.”

  “Well, then.” Lee stood up straighter, his voice returning to its usual sexy confidence. Putting a strong hand on my shoulder, he steered me bodily around, so that I was facing my armchair. “I think you’d better bend over that chair, young lady. After all, you have been a very, very naughty girl, and right now, I seem to be in control of all your equipment….”

  STILL LIFE

  Sommer Marsden

  He only does it because I need it. Because I ask for it. And we only do it twice a year, maybe three.

  “Stand back there, Marilee,” Jess says and then takes measured steps back to where we started, the lone double bed spread with snowy white sheets surrounded by what seems like acres and acres of mannequins.

  I strike a pose and try not to hope. Or daydream. My long black hair runs in ribbons down my pale skin. One nipple peeks through. I’m cold and excited. All the years of modeling, covers and mannequin work, parties and raves. I am most at home here among plasticine sisters while Jess gives me what I crave.

  He leaves me, but only for a while. You would think that I would break my pose while I wait. Lie on the bed, sit on the floor. Find a chair for Christ’s sake. You would be wrong.

  “So, you’re like…an artist?” Her voice is high and she’s popping her gum, something that driv
es me insane, and Jess knows it. That is his little joke. His little fuck-you to me for asking this of him. It’s me who likes the women. Not Jess.

  “I am like an artist. Come on in.” His voice, properly fluid, dark and warm, makes my skin shiver. The sound of him. The sound of their feet on the steps and the girl’s high tinkly laugh.

  “Wow. This is kind of creepy. And cool,” she says. Pop, pop, pop goes the wad in her mouth. Even from back here—back in the cheap seats, so to speak—I can see the pink flash of bubble gum on her tongue. Her eyes track the sea of bodies: naked tits, plastic crotches; some dressed in black panties, some in white, some in none. I can fake fake tits. I cannot fake a hairless, seamless pussy made of plastic. So we had added panties here and there for flavor and camouflage.

  She plops on the bed, drops her purse, peels off her jean jacket studded with broaches and buttons and baubles. “So…”

  Jess stares right at me, his eyes zeroing in without hesitation and I have to remind myself to breathe the shallowest of breaths. To keep my face a mask of nothingness. A blank slate. A wordless page. He smiles. “So, what?”

  “You wanna…” She twirls a streamer of bleach-blonde hair around her finger. The fingernail is painted blue and the polish is chipped. This is her version of coy.

  “Fuck you?” Jess’s eyes shoot to me, to her, to me again. Goose bumps roll over my naked skin and I steady my face. I cannot steady goose bumps. Even I cannot do that. No matter how good I am at being plastic.

  “Well, yeah?” She shrugs, laughs, and though he has not answered she is peeling off her small tee, hot pink like her gum, her lipstick. Her bra is hot pink, too. Shocking.

  Jess pops one of her breasts out before she gets the bra off. He rolls his thumb over her rosy nipple and she purrs like a cat. “You like that?” She nods. My pussy grows wet under my black panties. I watch him touch this flesh and blood, nonperfect, gum-chewing girl. And I want him to fuck her. And then me. Maybe then I will feel real again.

  Jess tells me I am quite real. That I am just like everyone else. I try. But I feel more like the women who surround me, the ones that were manufactured. Bald, painted, poseable. Fake.

  Jess watches me, dark brown eyes burning my skin and torching my fast-beating heart. He frowns for a moment. I know what he wants. He wants me to walk forward, stop him, call it off. He wants me not to want this. And he wants me to feel right. And he loves me. Since he loves me, he gives me this. And he hates it. Do you see how vicious that fucking little circle of craziness is? It hurts your head, doesn’t it? I know it hurts mine.

  I stay still, as impossibly still and flawless as the five-foot-ten molded plastic woman next to me. A still life. A work of art. Perfect.

  I don’t say a word. So Jess climbs on. Another club girl. Another conquest. I like to watch him with them because when I am jealous my heart beats faster, my pussy gets wetter, my thoughts gets louder. I am more real. “You like that, Amy?” he says her name. He says it so I will know that her name is Amy and yes, he will fuck her if I don’t stop him.

  I watch.

  His mouth on her mouth. He’s taken her gum. His mouth on her throat, her nipple, biting the inside of her breast in the way that always makes my throat feel too small and my cunt beat like another heart. He pins her tiny hands above her head on the white, white bed. She’s making little noises like she’s crying, but when she turns her head, I see the smile there. Jess is licking his way down her. Down her torso, over the swell of her little belly (I have none). He pushes his face between her legs and I close my eyes, breaking from my stillness for a moment, because I know how good his tongue feels on my clit. Broad and warm and wet. I know the exact pressure he uses to lick and the force he uses to suck and I know that once I come he likes to still keep going, likes to keep licking and sucking because, he says, that is when I taste the sweetest—like raw sugar or clover honey.

  “Oh, god,” she says. Amy says. She says Oh, god, as if she has invented it. But I don’t blame her, because when I open my eyes I can see the tip of Jess’s tongue riding the tiny cleft of her pussy. And I know that what she is saying is all she can think to say.

  Her hands, one stamped with the club logo, shove into his long brown hair and she touches him the way I want to. She runs her fingers over his face like a blind woman and she arches her hips up, hooks one leg (shorter than mine) around his shoulder and thrusts up so he can eat her more: harder, faster, wetter…more.

  His eyes find me again. He knows just where I am even in this sea of look-alikes. It stops my heart, that look, but I do not respond. Then he’s over her, the petite bleach-blonde Amy and he’s tracing her hot pink lips with his dick. The blunt rosy head of his cock brushes her lip like he’s applying her lipstick and her tongue darts out to taste him. I feel a rush of fluid slide from my pussy but I do not break my stance. That would be unacceptable. This is about them, right now. Not me.

  “Suck my dick, Amy. Suck it like a good girl. Put your little pink tongue on me, girl.” He’s saying it for me but she’s eating it up. Amy likes the dirty talk.

  “Yes, Jess,” she says and laughs. I know she is laughing because it rhymes. Because that’s the kind of girl she is. But then he’s fucking her mouth, long even, hard strokes but his eyes are on me. I feel sweat prickle my upper lip. My heart jumps so hard it hurts. My body hums with jealousy and wanting him. I watch the muscles in his stomach flex as he shoves his cock deep into her little pink throat.

  She’s lapping at him. Sucking. Making noises. Wet noises, happy noises, porn-movie noises as she takes every thrust he gives. Jess is white knuckling it, holding the stunted headboard of the prop bed in his studio like a drowning man holding tight to a piece of driftwood. I can read his mind. If he comes now, he will only have had oral with this strange girl. He will not have really cheated on me all the way at least. It won’t be real if it’s just a blowjob and a tawdry few minutes of going down on Bubble Gum Barbie. I stare at him, willing him to do what I’ve asked.

  He does.

  Jess pulls free of her mouth, his face set and angry almost. Not at her. At me. The first time I told him I wanted to see him with real girls, he damn near left me. You are a real girl! He had yelled and shouted and raged. It took everything I had to tell him: No. No I’m not. At least I do not feel I am.

  He called me crazy. But he did it.

  “Spread your legs,” he says to her. The muscles in my shoulder lock up and a spasm takes root in my pinky. I could shift my stance and she would never know right now because Jess is spearing her angrily with his perfect hard-on. But I do not move a muscle. His eyes lock with hers and he thrusts high and then higher still. The bleach-blonde top of her head bangs the headboard. She hooks a long, bottle-tanned leg around his waist and arches up to meet him.

  “Fuck me, Daddy,” she says in her little-girl voice. “Fuck me hard, Daddy.”

  My cunt tightens, a spasm works through me and I clench the floor of my pelvic muscles. A fine cold sweat pops up on my upper lips. “Cunt,” Jess says and she laughs. “Filthy little whore.”

  “Yes,” says the blonde. “I like it dirty, Daddy.”

  I hate her. And at that moment, I hate him. But most of all I hate me because my pussy is beating with a heart of its own and I’m watching his fingers brush her very real skin. A bruise here, a scar there, blonde hair on her arms shining in the bright loft overheads. She is not perfect and airbrushed and flawless. She has stubble on her legs and she chews like a cow.

  “Whore!” Jess says and his eyes lock with mine. I break my stance for just a heartbeat to lick my lips. I’d give every spread I’d ever done in every magazine ever printed to kiss him right now. He grins, pulls from her and crawls down her marked-up, imperfect body like he has a score to settle.

  Deep down, he probably does.

  Jess kicks the bedsheets from around him, and they catch for a moment on his long, muscular leg. He buries his face between her thighs. I can see beautiful silver stretch marks from here. He
licks in long pink curls up between her outer lips, working his tongue so she pants like a dog. He pinches her pert little clit between his white, white teeth and smiles at me, the tiny pebble of flesh captured there so I can see. He smiles and buries his face again. His nose disappears and she arches up, clawing at his hair, coming like some porn queen.

  “Yes, baby, yes!” she crows and her knees, pudgier than mine, clamp around Jess’s beloved head as she comes again, his fingers buried in her cunt, his nose hidden in her flesh.

  Then he returns to stabbing her with his cock, fulfilling my wish and punishing me all in one act. I watch her, perfect in her imperfection: the small roll of flesh around her middle, the mole on her hip, the cellulite on her ass. Each time he drives into her, her body rolls like a wave. I barely move, so thin and tight and perfect. Like a molded plastic girl.

  I love you he tells me every time. I love you and the way you are. You are very real to me, Marilee.

  But in that equation he is not as important as I am. He twines his finger through hers the way he does mine. And that makes me sad. The sadness is exquisite. The sadness is tangible. The sadness makes me feel alive. “Yes,” I say and only I can hear it.

  He kisses below her jaw, bites her throat, dips his head to capture her nipple while his hips slam against her hips and she moans like she’s dying. “I’m coming, Daddy,” she says and Jess’s eyes flick to mine like a brooding storm rushing a horizon.

  I nod. Barely. I am so stiff now from not moving. Pain sparkles in my body like magic. Jess closes his eyes, bites his lip. For all the world, he looks to be concentrating. Trying to picture me he always says. Me under him, my pussy locked around him. Because he loves me. He loves me more than I ever could love me.