It wasn’t as if I’d forgotten what it was like: the coke coursing through my veins making me feel invincible; the freedom inside these impeccable, tastefully decorated walls; the beauty and sensuality of the company filling up my senses; the need to exhaust my energies in every act of pleasure imaginable.
I looked into Steve’s eyes. “Is it that important to you? Is it what you really want?”
He let go of my arm. “Yes, Abby. Right here and now, it’s what I really want.”
Steve’s request didn’t make me jealous. Instead, I felt empty, defeated. “Okay,” I said, and walked past him to join Darla and Tom at the end of the hall.
“Why don’t you all follow me? I know every room in this house.”
“You have beautiful hair,” Darla said as she moved it out of the way so that I could snort the lines Tom had set up for me. The coke burned my passages, but it got rid of my headache instantly. “You’re very beautiful, Abby.”
I leaned back and appraised Darla. “So are you.”
She smiled, got up, and began to pull her dress over her head. Static electricity crackled as the fabric passed over her long blonde hair, leaving strands of it sticking up into the air. It struck me as funny and I giggled. Darla smoothed her hair down while Tom stood behind her and undid the clasp on her bra. The lace fell away, and he cupped her breasts and rubbed them lightly. She sank back into him, her eyes closed. He whispered in her ear and she smiled, opened her eyes, and walked back to me. Darla leaned over and lightly kissed me on the lips. I looked at Steve. He was taking off his clothes, but watching Darla and me intently. She kissed me again, this time parting my lips with her tongue. I closed my eyes, my mouth opened, and I took in her tongue, sucked at it, concentrating on the feeling I got from its moist softness, a feeling made sharper by the drug racing through my blood. Tom walked up and grabbed Darla’s hips. He peeled her panties back and pulled them off. “Why don’t we move to the bed?” Darla whispered.
“Sure.” I stood up and Darla helped me remove my dress.
Steve took the pillows off the bed, stripped down the blankets, and leaned back against the headboard, his legs tucked under him. I lay flat on my back, my head not far from his lap. He caressed my breasts as Darla’s tongue worked the flesh between my midriff and knees. Tiny grunts of pleasure came out of her mouth. Tom, kneeling behind, caressed her and himself as he watched, every few seconds voicing his approval, spurring her on. I looked up into Steve’s droopy, lust-laden eyes, felt the excitement he got from watching us jut into the top of my head. “Does this do it for you, baby?” I asked.
“Oh, yeah, Abby. Yeah.”
It’s funny how the body takes over, how you can suspend your mind and communicate using only your senses. A clitoris doesn’t know or care whose tongue or fingers manipulate it. When the hunger peaks and the nerve endings scream, nothing matters.
I gauged time by my thirst and the burning in my nostrils. How much water did I sip? How many lines did I snort? We were all thoroughly immersed in the scene, greedy and sweaty and playing it out, letting the desire rise and fall, rise and fall. At one point, Darla cried out, “What do you think I am, a sex machine?”
“Do you feel like a sex machine?” Tom asked.
“Not nearly enough, goddammit!” The three of them laughed, Steve loudest of all. His laughter found its way past the heat and pleasure that rippled across my body, leaving me cold. “Do you feel like a sex machine, too, Steve?”
“Yeah. And my engine’s in fine form.” They laughed again.
I sat up, leaned forward on my knees, and brought my face up close to his. “How about letting your vehicle cover some new ground?” I whispered, and then kissed him on the cheek.
“We pretty much covered all of it, baby.”
“Not all. You two guys haven’t covered all of it.” I leaned back, but kept my eyes glued to Steve’s. He looked puzzled, but only for a moment, and then attempted a laugh, but it didn’t quite make it out of his mouth. I looked at Tom.
“You’re kidding, right?” he asked.
Darla yelled, “Hey, what’s going on? You guys keeping secrets from me? What are you talking about?” I slid over to Darla and whispered in her ear. Her eyes got wide, and then she threw her head back and laughed. “Yes! You bet. I’d love to see that!”
“You’re crazy, Abby,” Steve said.
Darla jumped up and down on her knees. “Why is it crazy? I think it’s a great idea.” She turned to Tom. “Don’t you think it’s a great idea, Tom?”
Tom glanced at Steve. “Shut up, Darla. Joke’s over.”
Darla’s face got red. She pushed her fist into Tom’s shoulder. “A joke, huh? Since when?”
“Darla, I told you to shut up.”
Darla ignored him. “He enjoys it. Likes a guy to lick his pee-pee. When was the last time? Six weeks ago?” She reached between his legs and fondled him.
“Why don’t we knock off this bullshit?” Steve said. “You know I’m not interested, Abby.”
“Really? I don’t know anything of the kind. I don’t know that much about you at all, do I?”
“Abby—”
“Look at Tom. See how easily he gets hard? Just like you.” I grasped Steve’s penis and brought my lips up close. I licked the glans, and he hardened against my tongue. I looked up at him, still holding him in my hand. “This is for fun, Steve. It’s all for fun. You wanted the experience. Have it. All of it.”
“This is enough for me, baby,” he said, moving against my fingers.
I let go. “It’s not enough for me. I want to watch you with a guy. The way you watched me with Darla. That’s what I want.”
Darla slid her hand up and down Tom’s penis. “Me, too, Tommy. I want to watch, too,” she crooned in a baby’s voice. “You know you like it.”
Tom looked down at Darla’s hand moving swiftly against him. He was breathing hard. “Forget it, baby. The guy’s not into it. Let’s you and me play.” He gently pushed Darla’s head down into his lap, and she opened her mouth to receive him. He groaned.
I kept my mouth busy, too, working Steve until he sighed with pleasure. I looked up, past Steve, into Darla’s eyes, sending her my challenge. After a few moments, she nodded.
Soon, both men were rocking in a steady rhythm; they seemed to be in sync, at the same place, reaching for the same goal. I shot a glance in Darla’s direction; she pulled her mouth off Tom and crawled over to Steve and me, ignoring Tom’s complaint. I let Steve slip from my mouth and when he protested, I covered his lips with mine. Darla began kissing him on the chest and running her hands over his belly. He tried to push her hand between his legs, but she wouldn’t let him. She bit his nipples and slid her fingers over his groin, deliberately missing his penis. He moaned, sucked harder on my tongue. I pulled away and looked at Tom. He was pulling on his penis, his mouth hanging open. “Come here,” I said. He crawled over to us on his hands and knees. “Touch him.”
Steve made an attempt to object, but I covered his mouth with mine again. He relaxed against me at the same moment that Tom’s head brushed past my belly and dove between Steve’s legs. For a moment, Steve’s body stiffened, and then he relaxed again. Darla sustained her licking and pinching; I kept the kiss going, moved it from his lips to his neck, to the nipple free of Darla’s mouth, all the way down to where Tom’s lips smacked against his hardened flesh. My tongue joined Tom’s, and together we licked and sucked until Steve began to pant.
I knew his body so well. Knew how much he could take, what would speed him up or slow him down, finish him or keep him teetering on the edge. The measure of his breath, the depth of his sighs, the whimper stuck in his throat let me know when to pull back, to sustain his pleasure or increase his agony. My hands squeezed, fingers pinched, held back his flood until the blood beating in his veins calmed, and when it did, Tom came at him, his mouth an instrument of pleasant torment, forcing Steve to start the ascent again. Above us, Darla gently kissed his face, his eyes, licked his e
ars, sucked at his chin while her painted fingernails flicked the tip of each nipple.
Together, we teased Steve into a frenzy; his features became blurred from sweat pouring from his body. He thrashed about, seeking release, but we held him with the power of our circling tongues, the canopy of our curved torsos, the strength of our determined limbs. Pinned beneath us clutching blindly, spasmodically, he cried out, begged us to bring him off, but we answered him with lips that grazed his penis, palms that buffed his thighs, fingers that hummed against his anus.
“Enough,” he shouted, “enough!” But we didn’t stop, in fact, increased the tempo until his breaths became shorter, his movements faster, and I feared that he would waste himself just to be done with our exquisite torture. I signaled Darla and Tom to stop what they were doing, pressed close to Steve’s steamy body, and licked the sweat from his brow.
He turned his head to look at me. “God, Abby, you’re driving me crazy!”
“Tell me again how much you love me, Steve,” I whispered into his ear.
“I do…Fuck me, Abby…”
“I want you to feel as much pleasure as you can, baby. I want you to climb the highest mountain before I push you off.”
“Push me off now, Abby…I’m so ready to be pushed off the goddamned mountain!”
“All right, baby. My way?”
“Any way, Abby…. Please.”
I nodded and slipped off the bed, tiptoed to the closet, and reached inside. One could always count on Cal to keep a plentiful supply of restraints for anyone interested in such devices. These particular ropes were made of strong, yet soft, leather.
I trailed the leather over Steve’s chest and engorged penis. He shuddered. “I want to go for a ride,” I said. “You, in the dark. All right, baby?” I didn’t wait for his answer, but leaned over and tongued him deeply. He attempted to reach up to wrap his arms around me, but his body shook, weakened by desire. “A long, hard ride into an exploding sunset.”
He sighed.
Darla and Tom had been quietly watching our exchange. I tossed one of the leather ties to Tom, and he secured Steve’s left arm to the headboard while Darla helped me with his other arm. Then I put the blindfold on him. “In the dark,” I repeated. “You love it in the dark, don’t you?”
He murmured his answer as I straddled him, rubbing my wet sex slowly over his chest, inching up in increments until I reached his mouth. His tongue entered me and I moved my hips upward, letting it slide out. Then, as if in slow motion, I came back down until only the tip of his tongue was inside. I hovered there for a moment, while he strained his neck, trying to gain access to more of me. I let him in, but only a fraction of an inch, and then backed off. He cried out, yelled my name in protest, and I promised that soon he would experience the most astounding orgasm of his life.
Steve pulled against his restraints, his fingers curling, clawing the air, and he raised his legs in an attempt to grab me. There was no way he could. I kept my sex dancing over his mouth, but never close enough to satisfy his hunger. As I moved, I fondled my breasts and held Tom’s eyes. He watched me, tugged at his penis until it was long and hard, and then murmured for Darla to get on her knees.
“No!” I scrambled off Steve, grabbed Darla’s panties from the floor, and stuffed them into his mouth. Then I tossed the remaining ties to Tom and told him to turn Steve over. He hesitated. I looked at Darla. She had taken hold of my excitement. Her eyes wide, her breath labored, she stepped up to Tom, picked up the ties, and slapped them across his face. “Yes!” she shouted. “Yes!” A signal passed between them. Tom reached across her and grabbed Steve’s leg, pulled it tight, and tugged. There was sufficient slack in his wrist ties to twist them so that they gave enough to let us turn his body over.
Behind the gag, he screamed. He kicked at us, making it difficult to keep hold of his legs, but after a while we managed to secure both legs to the footboard.
Exhausted, I stood back and surveyed the X Steve’s body made across the bed, his muscles pulled taut and shiny with sweat. Seeing him spread-eagled, unable to move, stirred a desire within me I didn’t know I possessed. I climbed onto his back, pressed myself to his body, my arms spread over his, my legs splayed like his. “I dreamed a different dream, but it didn’t come true.”
On my knees between his legs, I bent to kiss the cheeks of his ass, to gently bite and lick them. My hand caressed his scrotum lightly. Steve still fought, thrashing against the sweat-soaked sheet, but I kept up my kisses, kept petting his heavy sack lightly with my fingers until his hips rolled into the mattress and his penis was shiny with his juice. His cries behind the gag had quieted to soft moans. I spread his cheeks and wet my finger, pressed lightly on the folds of puckered skin, and stroked his opening, gently escalating the rhythm until his body opened to the pleasure.
I looked back to see Darla and Tom on the floor, her mouth closed over him, drawing at him heartily. He grabbed her head and pulled until all I could see were his balls touching her chin. “Darla!” At the harsh tone of my voice, she drew her mouth away. Darla looked up at Tom. “Fuck him,” she said. He didn’t answer. “Go on…fuck him in his gorgeous virgin ass, Tom. His tight, beautiful ass.”
Tom licked his lips, pulled himself off the floor, and walked over to the bed. He lifted his penis, slick with Darla’s saliva, and motioned for me to move out of the way. I slipped off the bed and Tom took my place.
Steve lay very still—in terror or anticipation, I couldn’t tell. Tom rubbed himself along the crack of Steve’s ass, and I yanked the panties out of his mouth. “Don’t do this, Abby,” he said. His eyes pleaded with me, the fear in them unmistakable. Still, his ass quivered each time Tom rimmed his opening. Yes, I thought, it’s funny how the body takes over. His own balls and cock were full. I knew what it was he feared.
“Ram it into him!”
Tom burrowed into Steve’s body with several powerful thrusts. He gritted his teeth and cried out as he worked himself deeper and deeper inside Steve’s ass. “Ah…so sweet, so sweet,” he mumbled, lost in the sensation of this brand of fucking.
“God! He’s something, isn’t he? I love when he gets going like this!” said Darla.
Steve howled, bucked backward into Tom, his cries a mixture of pain and pleasure. I spread my legs and slipped my fingers over my swollen clit.
Tom pulled back, slid his penis nearly all the way out, and then rammed into Steve with such force that his eyes rolled back in his head. He grasped Steve’s hips and fucked him with increasing fervor.
The man who had earlier said he loved me, told me how great he thought I was, screamed my name, flung filthy epithets at me as the evidence of his gratification splattered against the sheet. At the same time, the confirmation of mine gushed against my fingers. When it was over, Tom slipped to the floor and lay panting on the rug. Steve pressed his face into the mattress. His shoulders shook as he wept.
Soft breath against my ear broke my concentration. Darla held me around the waist and fondled my breasts. I pulled my gaze off Steve and pushed her away.
“Hey—”
“Get out,” I screamed. “Both of you. Get the hell out!”
“Fucking maniac,” Darla said, but she scurried around gathering their fallen garments. I kicked Tom in his side, told him to get up and get out. He rolled over and pulled himself up. He didn’t say a word.
Kneeling at the head of the bed, I ran my fingers through Steve’s hair, massaged the muscles in his neck, and crooned soothing words to him. Inside the bathroom, Tom and Darla hurried into their clothes. I stopped paying attention and didn’t hear them leave.
Steve continued to whimper, and I cried, too, my face pressed up against his, our tears mingling together. I kept smoothing his hair, murmuring softly into his ear until his body relaxed and he fell asleep. He lay like a rock, snoring soundly, oblivious as I removed the straps and rubbed his ankles and wrists. Light filtered around the edges of the heavy drapes at the windows, announcing a new day.
RIDING THE RAILS
Sacchi Green
“HEY, JO! JOSIE BENOIT!” A VOICE FROM MY past, fitting all too well with the setting: the Springfield train station, visible through foggy windows and blowing snow. I’d gone to college not far from here, and so had that voice’s owner.
“If it isn’t Miss Theresa,” I grunted, and kept on tugging at the sheepskin jacket caught behind a suitcase on the overhead rack.
“I never forget an ass,” Terry said pointedly, casing mine as I reached upward.
“Sure as hell wouldn’t have known yours.” My jacket finally yielded. I tossed it over the voluptuous décolletage of my seated companion. A few minutes earlier Yasmin had been whining about being cold. Now, of course, for a new audience, she shrugged off the covering with an enthusiasm that threatened to shrug off her low-cut silk blouse as well. Not that it had been doing much to veil her pouting nipples.
Terry, brushing snow off her shoulders and shaking it from her hair, rightly accepted my remark as a compliment. Fourteen years ago she’d been on the lumpy side; now she was buff, and all style. Sandy hair lightened, cropped, waxed just right; multiple piercings on the left ear and eyebrow, giving her face a rakish slant; studded black leather cut to make the best of the work she’d done on her body. I’d have felt mundane, with my straight black hair twisted up into a utilitarian knot and my brown uniform, not ironed all that well since Katzi had taken off—if I ever gave a damn about appearances. Which might have had something to do with why Katzi took off. Which had a whole lot to do with why I hadn’t gotten laid in two months and wasn’t finding it easy to resist Yasmin’s efforts.
“You just get on?” Terry asked. “Didn’t see you in the station. No way I could have overlooked your little friend.” Her eyes raked Yasmin, who practically squirmed with delight.
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