Cruising the Strip

by Radclyffe

  “Aren’t you excited?”

  Jules tapped her finger lightly on her clitoris. She was hard and swollen and she had to force her hand away. If she started in on it now, she wouldn’t want to stop until she came. “Yes. I am.”

  “Then you must want—”

  “What do you do to make them beg?”

  Jules heard the woman catch her breath, as if caught off guard. “I offer them the one thing they crave.”

  “What’s that?” Jules skimmed her palm up the center of her stomach and then over her breasts. Her nipples tingled at the glancing caress. “What is it they want?”

  “Permission. They want my permission. Permission to take pleasure. Permission to come, no matter what it is they need.”

  “When they come, do you feel the rush?”

  “Yes,” the woman said, her voice thick. “Yes, I feel it.”

  “But you don’t come, do you?”

  “No.”

  Jules rolled her nipple between her fingers, harder and faster until her clit jumped and her pelvis lifted from the bed. “When you hang up the phone, then you make yourself come, don’t you?”

  Jules could barely make out the choked reply. “Yes.”

  “It’s hard to wait, isn’t it? When you’re so hard. And so wet.” Jules slid a finger over her clit and between her lips. She was hot and thickly wet. She kept her fingertip pressed to the underside of her clitoris, but didn’t caress it. The tense shaft throbbed against the length of her finger. Through the phone, she heard panting.

  The woman had started masturbating, something she must deny herself during those other phone calls. Even though she wanted it. Even though she needed it. Self-denial was power, too.

  “Sometimes you come without touching yourself, even when you don’t mean to. Even when you don’t want to.”

  “Yes.” A strangled sound, half-sob, half-moan. “Are you making your clit hard right now?”

  Jules pushed down against her hand and rubbed her clit rapidly for twenty seconds, then stopped. “No.” But she couldn’t smother her groan.

  “You’re lying,” the woman laughed breathlessly.

  “I know you’re fondling your clit,” Jules countered.

  “Mmm. I am. God, I don’t think I’ve ever been so big.”

  “Not even when you’re making some poor guy come all over your black silk stockings?”

  “They don’t make me ache the way you do.”

  Jules curled one finger inside and massaged the spot that made her clit rigid. If she masturbated her clit at the same time, she’d orgasm right away. She pressed her finger to the hard core. “Ah. God.”

  “What are you doing?” The woman was gasping. “Are you making yourself come?”

  “Is that what you want?” Jules’s legs strained as her body arched off the bed.

  “Yes. I want to hear you come.”

  “Will that make you come?” Jules started to work her clit between her fingers. Her stomach tightened and the telltale tingling began at the base of her belly.

  “It will. You know it will.”

  “You don’t come for them?”

  “They don’t want me to.” Her voice sounded high and thin. “Their pleasure…oh, I’m getting closer.” She gave a shuddering moan. “That’s what they want. Their pleasure—not mine.”

  “Ours,” Jules groaned. “I want ours. I’m coming. I’m coming now.”

  “I…I…”

  A scream penetrated Jules’s awareness as she writhed and twisted on the bed. When the last jolt of pleasure trailed away, she fumbled for the phone. “Don’t go,” she managed to croak. Seconds, minutes passed and only silence greeted her. Jules pressed a hand to her stomach, still aching from the powerful contractions. “Are you there?”

  “Yes.”

  “Are you sorry you let yourself come?”

  “I’m not sorry you made me come.”

  “I’m going to hang up soon and order that room service,” Jules said.

  Laughter, tinged with sadness.

  “Will you join me?” Jules waited, utterly still.

  “Should I plan on you switching hands on me again?”

  Jules smiled. “I’d say that would be a safe bet.”

  “Then how could I possibly refuse?”

  Dealer’s Choice

  by Radclyffe

  “So, do you two want to come in for awhile?” Monica asked. “I’ll break out some champagne and we can talk…or whatever.”

  I looked at my wife, Sheri, because Monica was her friend—well, work colleague, anyways—and this was Sheri’s trip. I came along because I’d never been to Vegas and I wanted an excuse to get out of doing yard work for a week. Besides, Sheri and I hadn’t had a chance to really cut loose since she’d taken the job as head librarian at the university at the same time I decided it was a good time to start my own business. Between the two of us, we’d been working fifteen hour days, six days a week, for over a year, and I couldn’t remember the last time we had a night out that ended with us having wild sex until the sun came up. When we first got together, all-nighters, nooners, and quickies in the shower were daily fare. It wasn’t that we’d lost interest; we just didn’t end up in the same place at the same time, physically or otherwise.

  We’d had plenty of sex since we got here, but after spending three hours in a strip club watching practically naked women slither around the stage, I was ready for more. Still, if Sheri wanted to spend some time with Monica and her girlfriend, Tate, I could handle it. When Sheri was ready, I knew I would be. I’d been pretty much ready twenty-four hours a day since the plane touched down.

  “Well, if you’re sure,” Sheri said, looking from Monica to Tate then me.

  “Fine by me,” I said gamely.

  “Oh yeah, it’ll be fun.” Monica, a small, tight-bodied brunette in a short, tight black skirt and clingy halter top, keyed the lock and held the door open. Tate, taller than Monica by half a head and far quieter, nodded in agreement.

  Sheri took my hand, and we followed them inside. A sofa and loveseat sat at right angles in the lounge area of their suite. Tate sprawled on the sofa while Monica pulled bottles out of the minibar. Sheri snuggled in my lap on the loveseat. A minute later, Monica passed around champagne, then leaned down and whispered something in Tate’s ear. Tate promptly set her glass aside, got up, and left the room.

  “So what did you think of the show?” Monica asked, curling up in the corner of the sofa closest to us. I tried not to notice how high her skirt rode when she tucked her legs up under her. Her lean thighs were pale, smooth columns, and for just an instant, I imagined running my hand along them.

  When I looked away, I saw Tate coming back. She grinned at me, and I had a feeling she was reading my mind. She was barefoot in jeans and a T-shirt and had a very respectable bulge along the inside of her left leg that hadn’t been there earlier. I glanced from her crotch back up to her face and her grin grew wider. Automatically, I tightened my hold on my wife.

  Tate dropped onto the couch next to Monica, slouching with her legs spread and her arm stretched out along the back of Monica’s shoulders. While Sheri and Monica continued recapping the show, Monica casually settled her hand on Tate’s thigh. Her fingertips came to rest an inch away from the head of Tate’s cock, which was plainly outlined beneath the nearly threadbare denim. Sheri tensed in my lap, and I saw she was staring at Monica’s hand. Or maybe she was staring at what was right next to Monica’s hand.

  “Don’t you think so?” Monica asked brightly.

  I jerked, realizing she was looking at me and expecting an answer. “Sorry, I missed that.”

  “I mean, I know it was all an act, but didn’t you think it was kind of sexy all the same?” Monica smiled at me and slid her hand up to cover Tate’s cock.

  Sheri squirmed in my lap.

  “Yeah,” I said, feeling a little light-headed. “I thought it was sexy.”

  Monica leaned forward as if she were going to tell us a secre
t, affording both Sheri and me a good look at her breasts, which were small and firm and very nice. At the same time, she tightened her fingers around the length of Tate’s cock and pulled enough to tent the denim. Tate half closed her eyes and my clit got so hard I wanted to leave right then.

  “While I was watching those girls slide around the pole and touch themselves, I was imagining being up there on stage with everyone watching me,” Monica confided. “It made me so horny.”

  “Teasing everyone,” Sheri asked, “or being watched?”

  Monica smiled and her hand moved a little faster between Tate’s legs. Tate’s fingers twitched on Monica’s bare arm as if a fine electric current flowed through them. “Both.”

  “Baby,” I murmured in Sheri’s ear, “I think we ought to go.”

  Sheri shifted so she was sitting completely crosswise in my lap, her ass nestled into my crotch. She wrapped her arms around my neck and kissed me, her tongue deep in my mouth. Sheri’s ass rolling over my clit felt so good, for a second I forgot about Monica and Tate. I sucked on her tongue and skimmed my hand over the outside of her breast. She purred her approval and I worked my hand under the bottom of her Lycra top. She wasn’t wearing a bra, and when my thumb skated across her small, hard nipple, she moaned. I slipped my other hand down to her ass and heard another moan. Except it wasn’t Sheri’s voice. Still kissing her, I tilted my head and shot a glance toward the sofa next to me. Monica had Tate’s cock out and was bent over Tate’s lap, sucking her. Tate was watching us, her face slack as she caressed Monica’s hair. Monica’s head bobbed in Tate’s lap as she followed her fist up and down Tate’s cock, and I wondered if she’d forgotten about us.

  I could tell Sheri was too into kissing me to notice what was going on a few feet away. I stopped kissing her and nodded in their direction. Sheri blinked and gaped as Tate fucked Monica’s face.

  “Baby,” I whispered again, “we should go unless you want—”

  “I want you to play with my nipples some more,” Sheri muttered and dove back into my mouth.

  The more I squeezed and tugged, the harder Sheri squirmed in my lap, and the less I cared what Monica and Tate were doing. When Sheri arched her back and yanked her top up to expose her breasts, I didn’t think twice about latching on to her nipple with my mouth. I sucked her and she dug her fingers into my hair and chanted oh, baby, yeah, yeah, that feels so good.

  Next to me, Tate finally spoke. “I’m fixing to come in your mouth.”

  Monica sat up, her dark hair swinging around her face. “You are not. You’re going to come inside of me.” She gripped Tate’s cock in her dainty fist and grinned over her shoulder at Sheri and me. “Sheri, want to see which one of them can hold out the longest? I bet yours will come before mine.”

  Sheri laughed, a wild light in her eyes. “Want to play, lover?”

  I knew she did, and that was almost enough to get me off in my pants. I might as well let her have it the way she wanted it. “Sure, baby. Whatever you want.”

  “Okay, what are the rules?” Sheri said to Monica.

  “You suck her off while I fuck Tate. And you can’t stop. The first one of them to come, loses.”

  “Tate will lose,” Sheri said confidently as she climbed down from my lap and knelt between my legs.

  Monica hitched up her skirt and swung around to straddle Tate’s narrow hips, positioning herself above Tate’s cock. She faced us with her ass against Tate’s belly. “I’m going to make sure you don’t cheat.”

  Sheri unzipped my trousers and I lifted my hips so she could pull them down. Then she got up tight between my legs, her hands resting against the inside of my thighs. Just seeing her there made my clit double in size. I didn’t think Tate was going to lose. I thought I’d last about a minute once she started sucking me. I glanced over at Tate. She had one hand on Monica’s hip and the other steadying her cock so Monica could slide down it. She was breathing fast and I didn’t think she had too long to go either. Maybe I did have a chance.

  “Let’s go then,” Monica said and settled down on Tate’s cock, taking her all the way in with one smooth, easy glide. She shivered. “Oh God. She’s big.”

  “So’s she,” Sheri murmured and closed her lips around my clit. She swept her tongue around me once and then started to suck.

  My vision went hazy for a second, and I really wanted to let go and come right then, but I remembered I wasn’t supposed to. I needed a diversion, something, anything to take my mind off the way Sheri pumped my clit in and out between her pursed lips like it was a lollipop. Next to me, Tate gripped Monica’s ass and stared, transfixed, into her lap as Monica rode up and down the length of her cock. Tate grunted softly, open mouthed, each time Monica slammed down on her. I imagined how that must feel, the warm, firm base of the cock banging against her clit, and mine popped up and twitched like crazy.

  “Watch it,” I groaned, and Sheri backed off to give me a break.

  “No fair,” Monica gasped, “you have to keep doing her.”

  Sheri teased me with the tip of her tongue, and I gripped the edges of the sofa cushion and tried not to come in her face. Tate whined and I knew she was getting ready to come. Monica made little whimpering sounds every time she shafted herself, and I knew she was right there too. I just needed to hold on another few seconds. Desperately, I grabbed Sheri’s head with both hands and held her mouth still with my clit just resting between her lips. It jumped against her mouth with every beat of my heart. She gazed up at me, her eyes hungry, and flicked at me with her tongue. She knew that would make me come and it did. I swore, but the curses were drowned out by Tate.

  “Fuck,” Tate yelled, sounding like she was in pain. “Fuck fuck fuck, I’m coming.”

  I pushed my clit into Sheri’s mouth and let her suck me off the rest of the way. It hit me so hard I felt like I’d been punched in the gut. I didn’t hear anything for quite a while except the roar of blood through my head.

  “Who won?” I finally heard Sheri ask.

  “It was a tie.” Monica’s voice high and tight. I forced my eyes open and focused on her. She was still riding, and her eyes were huge black pools of need.

  “Want to see”—Monica grinned unsteadily at Sheri—“which of us can last the longest?”

  Instantly, Sheri climbed into my lap and pushed my hand between her legs. She was hot and wet and her clit stood up between the slick folds. “Okay. But you have to rub your clit, too.”

  Monica’s hand flew to her clit and she started circling. “Mmm. I’m so hard.” She looked at me. “Is she hard too?”

  I squeezed Sheri’s clit between my thumb and forefinger, right at the base, where she liked it. I rolled it a little bit, and Sheri’s legs trembled. “Very hard.”

  “Are you squeezing it?” Monica stopped pumping up and down the cock and eased back against Tate’s body with it deep inside her. She rested her head on Tate’s shoulder and watched us. Tate reached around Monica’s body and started to play with her breasts. Monica fondled her clit, massaging it with one finger. Her clit was the same color as her blood red fingernail.

  “Squeezing and stroking,” I replied. Sheri was breathing unevenly against my neck, and I knew from the way her clit felt she was going to come soon. When she was this hard, she couldn’t control it. I figured Monica had a head start and couldn’t last long either. In fact, from the way her head twisted from side to side, she had to be barely holding on.

  “I bet Tate’s big, fat cock feels good inside you, doesn’t it?” I whispered, hoping to push Monica over the edge a little faster. After all, I wanted Sheri to win this little contest.

  “Oh my God,” Monica moaned, “it feels so so good. Makes me want to come so bad.”

  Sheri whimpered and clamped her hand over mine, pushing and pulling my fingers up and down her clit. That wasn’t exactly the response I had hoped for.

  “Hold on, baby,” I whispered.

  “I can’t,” Sheri wailed. “I want to come.”

 
; Oh well, fuck the contest. If Sheri needed it, I was going to give it to her.

  “Okay, baby, okay.” I slid three fingers inside her and worked her clit with my thumb. “You go ahead and come right here in my hand.”

  “Oh yeah,” Sheri whimpered, sucking on my neck. She was going to leave a mark. “Oh yeah, you’re making me come.”

  Sheri jerked upright in my lap, both hands clamped around my wrist, holding me inside. Her eyes were wide and dazed as she stared at Monica. “Watch me. I’m coming.”

  Monica writhed on Tate’s cock, her hand a blur between her legs, her lips parted in a silent scream.

  I held Sheri around the waist as she bent nearly double, coming over and over on my fingers in gushing waves. Monica finally found her breath and started begging for Tate to fuck her. Tate dug her heels in and obliged, thrusting her hips and her cock in and out while Monica masturbated furiously, making herself come, from the sounds of it, one orgasm right on top of another.

  “Oh God,” Sheri sighed, slumping back into my arms. “I came so hard I thought I was going to break something. Are you all right?”

  I eased my hand out from between her legs, happy I could still feel my fingers. “I’m better than all right.”

  Monica was finally winding down at last. Her lids fluttered open and she smiled weakly at Sheri. “Was that a tie?”

  “I think it was too close to call.” Sheri dragged my hand back to her breast and I obediently fingered her nipple.

  “Maybe we should go another round,” Monica suggested.

  “What do you say, lover?” Sheri started to slow grind in my lap again.

  “Sure. As long as I get to deal this hand.”

  Sheri glanced over at Monica. “Okay?”

  Monica gave us both a slow smile. “Call the game. We’ll play.”

  Twenty-One

  by Karin Kallmaker

  “Swear to freakin’ god, look at this place!” Liddy did a little dance as she ogled the big roulette wheel, the recessed area where poker tables were lined up like green jewels, the gleaming rows of slot machines, and over there they were playing baccarat, craps, everything. “Kid. Candy store. Me!”