Between the Cheeks
Page 7
The more he denied me, the more I craved what I couldn’t have.
How strange that something I’d never known I wanted now consumed me. I dreamed about him taking my ass. I wanted him to pound into me. I felt as if I were on fire all the time, felt as if the curves of my ass were a beacon, a neon sign, pulsing. Throbbing. And was I just imagining things, or were other people suddenly realizing how cool my ass was? I wore tighter jeans. I wore shorter, flirtier skirts. Byron’s best friend, Joshua, seemed to notice. On a day when I wore Daisy Duke cutoffs, he couldn’t keep his eyes off me. But Byron was oblivious.
I was determined to wake him up.
Whenever I felt the mood was right, I’d try to perk Byron up to the concept. I’d ask him to play with me the way he’d played with Vacation Girl, the trippy little blonde-haired minx in the Vuarnet shades who’d let him take her from behind. But what did I know? Maybe she’d taken him. Maybe she’d fucked him from below.
“Come on,” I begged yet again one evening after a party. We were both tipsy, but I acted a little more drunk than I really felt. “Come on, Byron, let’s try it.”
By then he knew exactly what I meant. We’d had this conversation often enough for him to know what “it” was. His face squinched up. He shook his head. He looked as if he’d just taken a bite of something rotten.
“I want to,” I told him, giving him my most desirous look. Lashes fluttering. Bottom lip in a bitable pout.
“No,” he said, in a tone that let me know he was gearing up for a fight. “No way.”
Although I hadn’t given the concept of anal sex much thought before Byron and I got together, now I had discovered that I really did want to. Men had been complimenting my ass for years. Since high school, even. Boys who suddenly realized that they weren’t breast men, but ass men, took an extra look at my derriere when I walked by. Did anything come between me and my Calvins? That’s what the boys wanted to know. Byron had that ass in his very own bed, and he wouldn’t glance at it twice.
How crazy it is that I begged. How pathetic that I had to go that low.
He’d fucked her that way. It was all I could think about. She got him to do it. She wouldn’t take no for an answer.
I got drunk again. Drunker this time. But I was prepared. I’d purchased a bottle of glistening lube. I unfurled a fresh towel and spread the blue terry cloth out on the bed while Byron was in the adjoining bathroom, brushing his teeth. My body, ass included, was squeaky clean from a shower. I was Crested, Scoped, and Dialed, as tempting as I could possibly manage. Somewhere in the back of my head, I knew that most men would have dived at the opportunity of doing me the way I craved. Young chicklet on the bed, ass up, ready for sex.
Byron said no.
He didn’t want to do the act with the girl he would marry. That’s what it all came down to. He tried to make it seem as if he were sparing me an indignity. Really, I could tell the truth was a different story entirely. I wasn’t worth it. The fight that followed was groundbreaking. Byron didn’t like me arguing with him about anything, and he punished me by leaving the apartment, storming out to have a cool-down walk in the night air.
All by myself, and drunker still, I looked at the photos from his vacation in New York, the one he’d gone on with Joshua after finishing graduate school. The one where he’d met the girl. I saw her gazing from under her shades, saw her daring me.
I took that dare.
What I did was indefensible. What I did was wrong, wrong, wrong. What I did wasn’t actually a what but a who—Joshua Sparks, Byron’s best friend.
I didn’t start up with the “fuck my ass” request immediately. I simply began responding to the flirtatiousness in Josh’s dark brown eyes whenever we were together. I held his interested stare a beat too long. Whenever we talked, I put my hand on his shoulder, or thigh, or the inside of his wrist. At parties, I stood too close. At dinners, I always sat across from him, and my stockinged toes did naughty things between his legs from under the table.
Josh started calling when he knew Byron wasn’t going to be around. “Hey, Gina, is Byron there?”
“No, Josh.”
“Good—”
He wanted me to talk dirty to him when he was at work. “Tell me what you want,” he’d demand. “Tell me everything.”
“You first,” I’d counter.
He wanted me to watch him jerk off.
I could do that.
He wanted me to give him a blow job in his car, during rush hour.
I could do that, too.
He wanted me every which way he could get me. At least, that’s what he promised. “Every which way—and then all those ways again.”
But would he fulfill my one true desire? That was the question. Or would he make me beg the way I had begged Byron, my fingers on the split of my ass, ready to open myself up to him? Would he make me beg, and then reject me? I didn’t think I could handle that.
When Josh and I finally got together after all those months of dancing around the issue, I didn’t know how to ask. I simply rolled over in bed and bumped him from behind.
“Byron won’t,” I told him. “I’ve asked, and he won’t.”
“Why not?” His strong fingertips lingered between my asscheeks. He touched me more firmly and I shuddered all over. “Why, Gina?” I looked at my ring, glinting at me accusingly from the bedside table. I looked over my shoulder at Josh. “Why do you want to so bad?” he asked, amending his original question.
“Because he won’t.” I’d built the act into something else in my mind. A super hurdle. Something to overcome.
Josh didn’t want me to see it like that. He wanted me not to get over it, but to revel in every single second. He didn’t want me to beg him to fuck my ass, he wanted me to beg him not to stop. He explained this to me as he touched my naked skin, humbling me with the sensation of his fingers spreading me apart. Making my heart race faster as he inspected me. And suddenly I didn’t want him to fuck me there just because Byron wouldn’t. I wanted him to fuck my ass because I needed him to. I wanted him to drive inside of me, to make me scream, to make me feel as if he were fucking me all the way through my body.
Josh knew what he was doing. There was plenty of lube and there was lots of stroking. He slid in one finger. Then two.
“Oh, yes,” I sighed. “Oh, Josh.”
He finger-fucked my ass as he rubbed my clit with his free hand. My body responded instantly. I felt the wetness spreading down my legs as my pussy grew steadily more aroused. He dribbled the shivery cold lube down the split between my cheeks until it rained onto the crisp sheets. He made me come before he even brought his cock to my hole. He made me come again with only the very head of it inside of me.
“Oh, god,” I murmured, undone by the feeling. “Oh, fucking god—”
He kissed the back of my neck as he worked me, and when he slid in all the way, I bit into the pillow and cried.
Byron was wrong. Yeah, it hurt, but it hurt in the best way possible. It hurt like nothing else ever had, and the pleasure of being filled was like no other experience. I didn’t want it to stop. I didn’t want it to end.
I thought about Byron denying me this. I thought about the spiky-haired blonde and her “I dare you” stare. And then I came again, as the diamonds made dizzy, drunken rainbows from my knockoff ring on the bedside table.
I tried to make myself feel bad for leaving Byron. I told myself I ought to have at least a twinge of guilty conscience over it. But the truth is this: he simply wasn’t worth it.
ABOUT THE AUTHORS
ANGELA CAPERTON writes eclectic erotica that challenges genre conventions. Look for her stories published with Black Lace and eBury Publishing, Cleis, Circlet, Coming Together, Drollerie, eXtasy Books, Renaissance, and in the indie magazine Out of the Gutter.
EMERALD’s erotic fiction has been published in numerous print and e-book anthologies as well as at various erotic websites. She is an advocate for sexual freedom, reproductive choice and sex worker
rights and blogs about these and other topics at her website, thegreen-lightdistrict. org.
NEIL GAVRIEL lives in the Pacific Northwest where he writes short stories of many different stripes, cooks amazing meals for his friends (who wonder why he isn’t making his living as a chef) and imagines very naughty uses for superpowers.
D. L. KING’s (dlkingerotica.blogspot.com) short stories have appeared in titles such as Best Women’s Erotica; One Night Only; Luscious; Please, Ma’am; and many others. She is the editor of Seductress, The Harder She Comes, Spankalicious, Voyeur Eyes Only, Carnal Machines , Spank!, The Sweetest Kiss, and Where the Girls Are.
DONNA GEORGE STOREY is the author of Amorous Woman, a steamy novel about an American woman’s love affair with Japan. She’s also published over a hundred literary and erotic stories in such places as Best Women’s Erotica, Penthouse, Passion, and Fast Girls. Read more of her work at DonnaGeorgeStorey.com.
Called a “Trollop with a Laptop,” a “Literary Siren,” and “The Mistress of Literary Erotica,” ALISON TYLER lives to be naughty. She is the editor of more than fifty erotic anthologies, including thirty-five for Cleis Press, most recently Morning, Noon and Night and Sudden Sex. Please visit alisontyler.blogspot.com.
ABOUT THE EDITOR
RACHEL KRAMER BUSSEL (rachelkramerbussel. com) is a New York–based author, editor and blogger. She has edited over forty books of erotica, including Going Down; Irresistible; Best Bondage Erotica 2011 and 2012; Gotta Have It; Obsessed; Women in Lust; Surrender ; Orgasmic; Bottoms Up: Spanking Good Stories; Spanked; Naughty Spanking Stories from A to Z 1 and 2; Fast Girls; Smooth; Passion; The Mile High Club; Do Not Disturb; Tasting Him; Tasting Her; Please, Sir; Please, Ma’am; He’s on Top; She’s on Top; Caught Looking; Hide and Seek; Crossdressing and Rubber Sex. She is the Best Sex Writing series editor, and winner of 6 IPPY (Independent Publisher) Awards. Her work has been published in over one hundred anthologies, including Best American Erotica 2004 and 2006; Zane’s Chocolate Flava 2 and Purple Panties; Everything You Know About Sex Is Wrong; Single State of the Union and Desire: Women Write About Wanting. She wrote the popular “Lusty Lady” column for The Village Voice.
Rachel is a sex columnist for SexisMagazine.com and has written for AVN, Bust, Cleansheets.com, Cosmopolitan , Curve, The Daily Beast, Fresh Yarn, The-Frisky. com, Gothamist, Huffington Post, Mediabistro, Newsday, New York Post, Penthouse, Playgirl, Radar, The Root, San Francisco Chronicle, Time Out New York and Zink, among others. She has appeared on “The Martha Stewart Show,” “The Berman and Berman Show,” NY1 and Showtime’s “Family Business.” She hosted the popular In the Flesh Erotic Reading Series (inthefleshreadingseries.com), featuring readers from Susie Bright to Zane, and speaks at conferences, does readings and teaches erotic writing workshops across the country. She blogs at lustylady.blogspot.com.
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