by Neneh Gordon
I stepped out of the shower, dried off and went into the bedroom. I slid open my underwear drawer and opted for a pair of little black knickers to wear with my sweats and T-shirt. I’d go bra-less for the evening; Jake liked that. I went to shut the drawer but my attention landed on a cream silk bag. I hadn’t delved inside it for a while.
Lifting it out, I laid it on the bed, trying to remember exactly what was in it. A vibrator or two, some lube that made my skin tingle, a pair of handcuffs—pink and fluffy—and a book of sexual favour vouchers.
I pulled open the drawstring and plucked out the vouchers. I’d bought them on a whim ages ago when I’d been online shopping. The contents had never been redeemed, but flicking through them now, I wondered if they might just be the spark Jake and I needed to up the spice in our lives and keep us fresh for one another.
“Cassie, dinner,” Jake called up the stairs.
“Okay, be there in a minute.” I continued to study the slim black, cheque-style book. The contents varied from a kiss, to a session with a crop, a massage, dinner out, the movies, anal sex and a blow job.
Blow job. It had been a while since I’d treated Jake to oral sex. Not because I didn’t love sucking his cock. I did, but what with work, and shifts and…
Hastily I tore it out, a surge of daring and anticipation careering through me. Okay, it was just a blow job, but the wording was so damned sexy.
I promise to give you a blow job whenever, wherever, however you want. Spit or swallow, your choice. Use this voucher wisely and make it count.
After shoving the voucher booklet back in the bag, I slipped it in the drawer and headed down the stairs. The smell of tomato, garlic and oregano filled my nostrils.
“Here you go,” Jake said, setting a bowl of pasta on my side of the pine table.
“Thanks.” I sat, took a sip of white wine.
“What you got there?” he asked, nodding at the strip of paper clutched in my hand.
“Something for you.” I grinned.
He raised his eyebrows, his piercing glinting in the overhead light. “It’s not my birthday. Shit, have I forgotten our anniversary?”
“No, no.” I laughed. “Nothing like that.”
“Phew.” He shoved in a fork full of pasta.
“It’s a voucher.”
He chewed and swallowed. “What, for the supermarket or something?”
“Oh, no, not for shopping.”
“Cassie,” he said, reaching for his beer and taking a gulp, “why are you being so secretive?”
“I’m not. Here.” I slid the voucher across the table, upside down, so it appeared blank.
Jake set down his fork, reached for the piece of paper and turned it over.
With satisfaction I watched his jaw relax, as though his mouth might gape. It didn’t. He caught my gaze. His eyes flashed and he rested the voucher down, so the words faced upwards.
“I should make pasta more often,” he said gruffly, then cleared his throat.
“You make pasta enough.” Heat was blooming on my chest, seeping up my neck to my cheeks. The voucher looked so rude sitting on the dinner table, the words Blow Job almost screaming from the paper.
“So what’s the occasion?” he asked, his gaze slipping to my nipples, which were like hard pebbles pressing against the cotton of my T-shirt.
“I told you, no occasion. I’ve just had that book of vouchers sitting there forever. I figured we might as well get started.”
“I like your way of thinking.” He leaned over, touching his lips to mine at the same time as he brushed his wide knuckles over my taut nipple. “I like it a lot.”
***
We made love that night. Not wild or desperate, and Jake said he didn’t want to redeem his voucher in the dark, beneath the duvet. In fact, he’d folded it up, neatly tucked it into his wallet as though it was a fifty-pound note. He stated that he was saving it for when he judged the moment to be just right.
I wondered if he was enjoying the anticipation of the promise as much as I was. This would be no ordinary blow job. It was one that was guaranteed to happen. Satisfaction was a given. When he paid for the shopping on Friday evening and pulled his bankcard out of his wallet, I couldn’t help but glance at the shop assistant—a middle-aged woman with streaky red lipstick—and wonder what she would think if she knew what Jake kept beside his credit card.
Saturday dawned bright and sunny, and for once I had a weekend off duty. The ward would survive without me for two full days and I couldn’t wait to put all the stress and worries of work to the back of my mind.
“Coffee,” Jake said, placing a steaming mug down on the garden table.
“Thanks.” I logged off Facebook and set my phone to one side, flicking away a bee that had mistaken my pink flowered top for a plant.
“Shall we go for a walk after this?” Jake suggested.
“Mmm, why not?” I glanced at the sky. Not a cloud in sight. “The weather is so nice it’s a shame not to.”
“We could walk over to Little Hampton and have a drink in The Cow and Slipper.”
“Yes, okay. It’s not like we have to be anywhere today.”
“Nope, just us. I’ve been looking forward to this weekend. It’s been too long since your rota gave us two days off together.”
“I know. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry. Let’s just make the most of it.”
***
An hour later we were stomping across the meadow hand in hand. I wore denim shorts and a vest top and the grass tickled my shins, the sun warming my shoulders. I sighed and stared at the hazy horizon. Just endless rolling hills, dotted with sheep, ancient trees and hedgerows.
“You okay?” Jake asked.
“Yes, perfect. Just thinking how lovely and calm it is here compared to the frantic pace at work.”
“Mmm, it is quiet. And quite isolated.”
We passed under the shade of an old oak tree. Suddenly Jake grabbed me, tugged me close and backed me up against the knobbly trunk.
“Jake,” I gasped, clinging to his wide shoulders. “What—”
He silenced me with a kiss. Not a gentle, lazy summer-day kiss, but a fire-hot, darkly ravenous kiss that melted my insides and turned my brain to mush. I’d spent too many years waiting for his kisses to ever take them for granted. Each one was special and reduced me to a quivering bundle of need.
He pulled back, delved into his jeans pocket and produced his wallet.
Is he getting what I think he is?
My arms hung limply at my sides, my pulse was loud in my ears. A blackbird twittered a warning that we were nearby.
“I want to redeem my voucher,” he said, withdrawing the innocuous-looking rectangle of paper.
“What, here?” I glanced around the deserted meadow, a thrill of excitement blasting through me.
“Yep, here.”
“But…” Could we? Really? My heart was pounding at the thought. It would be so deliciously naughty.
“There’s no one around. We’ve walked for an hour and the path is deserted. It’s too damned hot for anyone to be out.”
I tried to find a shred of rational thought. It was hard when I was tempted beyond belief. “But we’re out,” I implored.
“Yeah, but no one else is.”
I wanted to, really I did. God, that kiss, the sudden dominance of his mouth on mine, his body pushing me into the rough tree. My pussy was damp, and a familiar ache was already blossoming in my pelvis. My body was like a switch for Jake; off—on.
He held the voucher in front of my face. “I promise,” he said, “to give you a blow job whenever, wherever, however you want. Spit or swallow, your choice.” His gaze caught mine. There was a rise of colour on his cheekbones—it could be from the sun; it could be because he was as aroused as I was.
I glanced downwards, at his cock. There were definite straining issues going on with the material of his jeans.
“What’s up, Cassie?” he asked, tilting his head
and causing his hair to flop sideways. “You can’t make good on your promise?”
“Of course I can.” The thought of Jake’s cock, in my mouth, now, here, outside, was more exciting than I thought it could ever be.
He caught my cheek in his palm. “If I tell you that you sucking me off here, outside, will double the thrill, how will that make you feel, baby?”
Oh, fuck, double the thrill!
I ran my hand down his chest, over his abdomen and felt a shiver run through his tense flesh. “That will make me feel like I ought to get straight to work.” I smiled sexily and tilted my eyebrows. “So hand me that voucher.”
He grinned and offered it forward.
I took it, folded it into my back pocket and gave the meadow one last sweep. Still no one. “So you’ve picked the wherever and whenever, tell me how.”
“Like this.” He gripped my shoulders and switched our places, so his back was against the tree and I faced him. “And… and I want to hold your head, tight, to guide you.”
Oh, my God, really!
Despite his bad-boy-biker looks, he’d always been so passive when I’d performed oral sex on him. “Er, okay.”
He took on an expression of determination, set his lips tight as though words were stalling in his mouth.
“What?” I asked.
“And I want you to swallow.”
I hadn’t done that in a while, preferring to climb on top of him and come together, but it wasn’t a deal breaker. In fact, it would be a treat. “Okay.”
A thin sheen of sweat sat on his brow. I noticed a drip about to trickle down his temple. With the tip of my index finger I caught it. Sweat was popping on my own body. I wanted his cock now. I’d been waiting for this moment for days.
He exerted steady, strong pressure on my shoulders and forced me down. I folded my knees onto the grassy carpet and set to work on his fly buttons. They were hard to manoeuvre, his cock so swollen there was barely the scrap of give needed to undo them.
“Ah, baby,” he groaned. “You have no idea how hot I’ve been for this since you gave me the voucher.”
Desire besieged me. This was about so much more than a blow job. It was us extending our foreplay, making things exciting again. Just as I’d planned.
“Even at work?”
“Yeah, I kept looking at it, then cursing myself for getting hard on site. The guys would have ripped the shit out of me.”
A lovely warm glow poured through me, a mixture of triumph and smugness. I understood what he meant about the expectation of this moment. It was delicious. And now, to be doing it outside. How wild and daring were we?
As soon as his cock was free and his shaft lay in my palm, he threaded his fingers into my hair and held my head tight, over my ears.
I tensed. For a moment I wondered about objecting. I wouldn’t be able to hear if someone was approaching. I wouldn’t be able to pull back if he rode in too deep. But I quickly dismissed that idea. Someone would see me fellating my husband long before we saw them, maybe they would even get off on it, stop awhile and watch, unable to believe their eyes at our daring.
“Ah, yeah, fuck, I’m so hard it hurts,” he said with a groan.
I poked out my tongue and licked his slit. Probed deep until it stretched a little around the tip and I got the full-on taste of his precum. While I did so I looked up, watching his lips pull tight and his eyes become stormy. His hair had flopped forward now, framing his handsome face.
He tightened his grip on my head, tipped me closer. I stretched my mouth wide and he sank between my lips.
I breathed deep and let his unique, raw-male scent and taste fill my senses. With equal force he pulled me back so just the tip of his cock sat on my tongue and then he drove in again. Not frantic and deep, just far enough so his slit skimmed over my palate and tickled the back of my throat, right before my gag.
“Oh, God, I’m not going to last long,” he said, shifting his hips in synchrony with the forced movements of my head.
The sensation of having my head moved as an object felt a little stiff and awkward, so I relaxed my neck, held onto his hips and let him be in total control of my mouth, my face, my head. Instantly I felt better. We became one, me pleasuring my husband, Jake a boiling mass of need, preparing to erupt.
As I sucked I found the thick, twisting vein that graced the underside of his shaft and smoothed my tongue over it. He liked that; he’d told me once it was super-sensitive. Jake groaned low and deep and curled his fingertips almost harshly into my scalp. A shot of lust seared down my spine straight to my pussy and I felt myself getting wet. He’d never held me so firmly. Jake only ever touched me with care and respect. It was utterly new to have allowed him to dominate me this way.
Riding high on a plethora of exciting emotions, not to mention eager to please, I sought out his balls. They were tight and packed into his body. He was close to climax.
I rolled them gently in my palm, cupping and squeezing with only a small amount of pressure.
“Ah, yeah, fuck, you look so hot on your knees, sucking me, out here.”
Of course, I couldn’t answer. I was dragging in breaths when I could. Saliva was spreading on my chin and my mouth was chock-full when he sank to maximum depth.
I was vaguely aware of the blackbird calling and hoped it wasn’t chirping a warning about someone approaching. Though somehow, being discovered didn’t bother me. I was too engrossed in my task, too surrendered to Jake. It was his responsibility—he’d sunk me to my knees and slid his cock into my mouth. That feeling of surrendering responsibility was sublime and erotic, not to mention my clit was swelling against my denim shorts, the seam pushing on just the right, super-sensitive place.
His breaths were ragged and harsh, his body tense. The root of his cock was at maximum girth, and when it hit my mouth it filled me so much my jaw complained. I eased the tip of my index finger behind his balls, applying pressure to the smooth and sensitive stretch of skin.
“Ah, fuck. That’s it. Get ready to swallow.” He spoke in a series of desperate barks, jerked his hips and dug his fingers in deeper.
I held my breath. His cock swelled and he seated himself as deep as he could go.
A moment of panic claimed me. He’d pushed me to my limit. I couldn’t take any more. I held my breath, stared at his wiry, dark brown pubic hair and willed myself calm.
“Oh, yeah, fuck, here… it… is.”
The surge of erupting fluid rumbled over my tongue as it shot up his shaft, a wave of expansion that overflowed and burst forth into my throat.
“Ah, baby, swallow, swallow,” he shouted.
I did. I had no choice. He was lodged in my mouth and swallowing was my only option. But it felt so good. I was taking what he was giving me. And the way his pleasure-soaked cry had just echoed around the branches above us was enough to give me a mini climax. My pussy quivered and my clit sent shivers of pleasure radiating outward.
“Ah, baby, yeah.” He kept a firm hold of my head, pulled out his cock and dropped to his knees in front of me. More of a collapse than a sitting down. He was struggling to catch his breath, his chest rising and falling rapidly and his nostrils flaring. “Fuck, that was awesome. That’s the best orgasm I’ve ever had.”
My breaths were also coming in short, sharp pants. Small waves of bliss making my stomach clench and my skin tingle. “Glad you enjoyed.”
“Bloody amazing.” He slanted his lips over mine, kissed me hungrily, deeply. I knew he would taste his come on my tongue, the same way I tasted myself when he’d feasted on my pussy and kissed me afterwards.
His cheeks had flushed to crushed-strawberry red and his hair hung like damp black fingers around his face.
“So,” he said, a cocky grin playing on his lips, “what other vouchers you got in that book of yours? I think it’s time for me to promise you something.”
In Control
by Hope Willowbrook
Jenna had been with Blake for a year now, having met him a
t the office where she worked. She’d been the new girl, the secretary who had to make the tea for weeks in order to get anyone to accept her. He was the kindly manager whose charming smile and bright blue eyes had made it all worth it—they were the perfect cliché. In that year they’d had so much fun together, fallen so madly in love that they’d moved in together within four months of their first date. But for Jenna, something was missing. It was shallow, irrelevant, she felt terrible for thinking it. The sex was as boring and predictable as vanilla ice cream.
Attraction wasn’t the problem; her flesh yearned for him. He adored her too, stroking her every curve thoroughly, treated her like a princess, but he never drove her to the edge and tipped her over. A whole year with him and zero orgasms, not one. Oh, she’d become skilled in faking, sure, but she desperately longed to come undone beneath Blake, to allow him to push her body to the brink of ecstasy over and over again. It just didn’t happen, and she was frustrated.
When she’d confessed this to her friend, Helen had laughed uproariously and insisted she needed to buy herself a vibrator. The fiery redhead never seemed to have any problems in that department herself. She refused to date a man who couldn’t provide a glowing sexual reference and then cast them aside when she’d explored everything they had to offer her. Men, she said, were simply something that could be enjoyed, but were definitely not a necessity for a good time.
It had been a normal evening in when she’d suggested it, her most insane idea yet. The two women were having a film night, tucked up with Johnny Depp and a gigantic box of chocolates, living the stereotype.
“If only I could rent him for a night,” said Jenna, staring wistfully at the screen.
Helen snorted over the top of her wine glass. “One night? You’d need at least a fortnight to work out all your sexual frustration!”
A chocolate flew through the air and hit her square in the face. Jenna scrabbled around to retrieve it and wolfed it down without so much as a contemptuous look at her friend. “I mean it, though,” she said thickly, still chomping her way through the strawberry crème. “You can’t carry on like this, you’ll implode from the lack of Big Wow.”
