Stories for When the Sun Goes Down (Sexy Anthology)

by Lily Harlem

  “Of course,” I said, struggling to maintain professionalism as he stepped round the bench and towered over me. “But it’s good you were so near the edge of orgasm when we took the casting.” I nodded down at the white chalky substance revealing the perfect indent of his erect cock. “It means we’ve immortalized you at your most… spectacular.”

  His irritated expression cracked into an amused grin. “Yeah, Emma will like it.”

  “She’s a lucky girl.” As soon as the words fell from my mouth I realized it had been the wrong thing to say. “I… I mean… what I wanted to say is… you’re a very thoughtful man, to think of her needs at a time like this.” I tried to shift my gaze from his intense scrutiny but he was staring straight at me.

  “Yeah, well, I need her to have something to play with while she’s backpacking.” He stepped closer and his musky male scent encircled me, a hot cloud of recently released desire lying in the air like salt blowing on an ocean breeze. “I don’t want her running off with a surfer dude, do I?”

  “I’m sure she wouldn’t.”

  He reached out and caught a wild, red ringlet that had escaped my ponytail. “I’m just wondering what I’m going to play with while she’s gone.” He tucked the wayward curl behind my ear. “I’ve never cheated but…”

  I swallowed, my mouth suddenly dry. “But you’re a man,” I said, stating the fact my hormones were screaming about. “With needs, perhaps Emma could come to Making Shapes and get a body mold done for you, I do a great range of very intimate, very user friendly products.”

  He stepped away with a derisive snort. “Not my thing. I prefer hot flesh writhing under me.” He reached for his wallet, his expression all business. “How much do I owe you?”

  “Nothing for now.” I walked over to a long, steel counter and placed down the bucket with its precious contents. “You can settle up when you collect the finished cast.”

  “When will that be?”

  “In about a week, is that all right?”

  “Yep, she goes in ten days so a week should be fine.”

  He pulled open the door and strode from the studio and into the front of my shop. My eyes, like magnets, were drawn to his perfect, denim-encased rear. I smoothed my dusty hands together imagining what his skin would be like to touch, warm and soft but at the same time bubbling with powerful muscles lurking just below the surface. I’d meant what I said about Emma being a lucky girl. Theo Horton was one hell of a man and if he were mine there was no way I’d be hopping off to Australia for six months. No way on earth.

  Two weeks later I held Theo Horton’s cock in my hand as November rain whipped the skylights above my studio. Theo hadn’t been back to collect his body molding so I guessed Emma had come to her senses about leaving such a prime specimen all alone.

  I thought unenthusiastically about the lonely evening ahead in my small King’s Road flat. I really should start charging customers when they came for their sittings. That way I might make enough money to buy somewhere bigger, or even take a holiday and get some sunshine.

  I sighed and passed the cock from one hand to the other. I was pleased with the finished product. I’d spent a considerable amount of time perfecting the deep rose-petal shade, shadowing the bulging, twisting veins along the shaft and adding his two small freckles onto the wide smooth head, just to the right of his slit. He was circumcised and I liked that, his cock looked neat and clean, and with the new glaze it felt smooth as glass when I ran my fingers up and down the length of it.

  I curled my thumb and index finger around the base, just above where the first inch of his ball sac were molded. My fingers wouldn’t meet; his trunk was so wide, so thick. My breath quickened as I imagined him penetrating me. How would he fit? I was only five feet two, and he must be well over six feet and with all that raw power surging behind a hungry penis he’d surely split me in half. A buzz sparked in my clit. Like a tuning fork tapping against me, its resonance hummed through my neglected but sensitive flesh. Theo was on a whole different size scale to me, it was a wonder we were the same species living on the same planet.

  A sharp gust of wind rattled the skylight. I looked up into the London night and saw the moon peek from a racing cloud before being engulfed in blackness once more. Maybe I should take Theo’s dick home tonight, give it a trial run, test its dildo qualities and trial my abilities to take it into my body. Emma would never know, Theo would never know. Even if he collected it tomorrow, it would wipe clean good as new—a quick rinse and a polish and no one would be any wiser.

  I bounced its substantial weight in my palms and a new thought popped into my head. Would it fit in my mouth? I didn’t know if my jaw could stretch that wide, would my teeth part sufficiently to house such a beast.

  I glanced at the door leading to the shop front, it was a little ajar, but anyone shouldering the weather and passing my display windows wouldn’t see into the studio, and I’d locked the front door earlier when I’d shut shop. I swept my tongue over my lips. Curiosity eating me up the way I wanted to eat him up. I would give it a quick try here, just to see.

  I lifted the dick to my face, slit upwards. It shone like marble in the stark overhead lights and reflected the steel shelves to my left. I closed my eyes and let the cool head press against my top lip, poked out my tongue and rimmed the groove of skin under the base of his glans. I tried to remember Theo’s heady mix of pheromones swirling around me to imagine his flavour; musky and manly, erotic and hot.

  I couldn’t wait any longer. I stretched my jaw wide and slid the head onto my tongue. My jaw gave a soft click as he smoothed in. My knees turned weak and I pictured his face contorted with the effort of not coming; eyes squeezed shut, teeth dragging at his lip and his breaths sharp and shallow. I gripped my breast as I slid him to the back of my throat and tweaked my nipple to a painful point through my sweater. He hit delicate flesh and as I struggled with my gag I imagined his hands on me, fondling my breasts, cupping the nape of my neck, stroking the corners of my poor stretched lips.

  I moaned, slid him out and then back in again, the dildo warming and coating in my saliva, its eternal hardness a celebration of my craft. I reached to the waistband of my jeans, popped the metal button and shoved my fingers down my knickers. I kept my eyes tight shut, only the sound of the wind and the rain intruded upon my fantasy of having Theo thrusting into my mouth.

  My clit was on fire, swollen and demanding attention as my fingertips began deep, urgent rotations. I didn’t know if I could stay standing even though I was leaning against the counter. My legs were like jelly, my spine desperate to curl forward for the pressure and rhythm of my own ministrations. I opened my eyes to the stark light and spotted the molding bench. I needed to lie down but that would put me in view of the shop front. I should just shove the cock in my bag and head home where I could play to my heart’s content. But the cock had come to life slipping in and out my mouth, teasing me with how delicious it would feel shunting in and out of my pussy.

  Fantasy was what I needed… now.

  I took a few wobbly steps to the door, banged a flat palm against it to shut it nearly flush then staggered to the bench pulling at my jeans zipper as I went. I needed them off, or at least round my ankles to have any chance of accommodating this monster.

  My whole pussy thrummed and I felt dizzy with the thought of what I was about to do. I gave the cock one last slide down my throat, really deep this time so I could hardly drag air in. My fingers found the entrance of my pussy and I shoved up, surprised by how wet and swollen I was. I surged in, over and over stretching in preparation. Theo’s cock was all I could think of.

  BANG.BANG.

  The glass front door of the shop rattled under the force of a fist.

  BANG.BANG.

  My eyes flew open and I stared at the not quite shut wooden door between me and the shop front. Oh my god! A mental picture of what I must look like invaded my brain. Trousers around my ankles, one hand shoved up my pussy and a dildo pounding the back of
my throat.

  I pulled Theo’s dick from my mouth and dropped it on the bench. With wet fingers I yanked up my jeans, struggled with the zip and wiped my lips on my sleeve. I took a shaky step forward.

  “Open up, I know you’re in there.” A deep voice penetrated the shop.

  I stopped my in my tracks.

  “The studio lights are on, open up.”

  BANG. BANG.

  A wave of nausea swept through my stomach as a wash of anticipation flooded my pelvis. I smoothed back my hair, set my face to business mode and pushed into the darkened shop front.

  Theo Horton was standing at the door, broad palms pressed against the wet glass and his shadowed figure backlit by an amber streetlamp as wind lifted leaves and litter around his feet. He wore a long trench coat and rain dripped from his hair, hung in his eyebrows and ran from his chin.

  “Making Shapes is closed,” I said, walking toward the door.

  “Open up.” He glared at me through twinkling drips, his jaw set obstinately. “Now.”

  “Why?” I put my hands on my hips determined to project an equal degree of stubbornness. For all he knew I could have been in the middle of a very intimate molding or a very intricate piece of artwork.

  “Emma has gone.”

  “But you didn’t collect your cock… I mean your… your body sculpture.”

  “There was no point, we finished, or rather I finished it, with her.”

  “You did. Why?”

  “Can we have this conversation inside?” His scowl deepened and his gaze bored into me. “In case you hadn’t noticed the weather’s not so good out here.” As he spoke he was lit with a brilliant flash of lightening followed by a violent clap of thunder which shook my window display sculptures on their stands.

  Startled, I jumped forward. Scrabbled with the lock and tugged the door open. Theo stepped in along with several tumbling leaves that settled around his feet.

  “Thanks,” he said as I re-locked the door.

  I shrugged. “What can I help you with, Mr Horton?”

  A cocky smile tickled one side of his mouth and with a rush of panic I wondered if he’d seen me with his glazed cock in my mouth and my fingers jamming into myself, preparing for a trial entry of his body art. But no, how could he have seen? There were only skylights in the studio and the door had been more or less shut. I beat down a blush. He couldn’t possibly know what I’d been doing when he’d arrived.

  “Well to start with I’d like my body molding, if it’s ready.”

  “Yes, of course.” I indicated for him to go into the studio.

  He turned and walked ahead of me. The eye magnetism to his butt returned and even though he was wearing a long coat I couldn’t help feasting on the thought of those hidden orbs of delectable flesh.

  As we stepped into the brightly lit room my lust frazzled brain suddenly remembered where I’d left the molding—abandoned on the central bench, flattening a thick crease in the sheet my shuffling naked buttocks had created.

  “Is that it?” His eyes widened. “Is that mine?”

  “Er, yes.” Its deep pink colour looked startling against the crisp white sheets and it shone brightly, sparkling as if dripping with moisture—my moisture.

  “Why is it there?” He turned to me.

  “I, er, just finished it, it’s drying under the lights.” Improvising I pointed to the fluorescent strip-light dangling directly above the bench. “It’s a good job you’re late picking it up. I’ve been so busy it wouldn’t have been ready for Emma.”

  Theo snorted at the mention of her name.

  “So what happened between you guys?” I was keen to change the subject.

  He dragged his arms from his wet coat and draped it over a stool. “I offered to go with her, to Australia.” He reached for a towel lying by the sink and gave his short turf of jet black hair a vigorous rub. “I’ve got my own web design business. It would’ve only taken a couple of hours a day online to keep clients happy and sites ticking over.”

  I tipped my head, nodded for him to continue.

  “She said no.” He tossed the towel aside. “She wanted to travel alone.” He shrugged his wide shoulders that were encased in a thick gray jumper. The roundness of his deltoids bulged and several dark hairs peeked from the neckline. “I realized Emma always wanted to do things alone. I rarely slotted into her daily routines or plans. So what was the point? Our relationship was going nowhere so there seemed nothing to gain from waiting six months…” He stepped closer. “Especially when someone else has caught my attention.”

  A shiver ran up my spine as I recalled his earlier comments about wanting something to play with. Did he want more than that now he was single? Was he interested in me? We’d only met twice before, once to organize the appointment and then for me to cast his dick in a mold and watch him come. It was a fairly unusual couple of meetings but just the same I’d been unable to stop thinking about him. Did he feel the same way about me?

  I felt myself sway toward him. Heat radiated from his damp body onto mine, he was practically steaming in the heat of the studio. He licked his lips and bent his head. Was he going to kiss me?

  He stepped away, to the bench.

  I dragged in much needed oxygen. I’d been holding my breath.

  He picked up his cock and passed it between his hands. His eyes narrowed and his mouth set in a straight line.

  “Do you like it?” I asked, hoping the squeak in my voice wouldn’t betray just how much I liked it, or what I’d intended doing with it only minutes before.

  His eyebrows lifted but he offered no comment.

  “It’s top quality glaze, should last for years, it’s practically shatterproof unless you run a car over it or maybe a tractor or a motorbike or…”

  “It’s wet.” His gaze snagged mine. “It’s wet and… and warm too.”

  “I told you, it’s drying, it’s not quite ready.” I thrust my hands on my hips and projected my aloof, misunderstood artist persona.

  His dark gaze roamed my body and my aloofness disintegrated like a summer puddle. He drank me up as though he could see right through my clothes.

  Suddenly I was aching with longing.

  He chewed on his cheek as his attention settled on my chest and I knew without looking that my nipples were standing to attention, plainly visible through my sweater.

  “It’s fit for purpose then?”

  “Pardon?”

  “The molding, my cock, it’s tough, it can take a bit of rough treatment.”

  “Yes, money back guarantee.” I smiled. “If it breaks I’ll redo you.”

  He nodded sagely and lifted the penis to his face, much the same way I had. But Theo didn’t put it in his mouth instead he held the shaft under his nose and sniffed it like an expensive cigar. “Still smells new,” he said in a low voice.

  “It is new, brand new.”

  “Is it?” His sudden sharp gaze dared me to lie. “Are you sure it hasn’t been used for anything?”

  “Of course it hasn’t.” I frowned “What, doesn’t it look like yours or something?”

  “That’s not what I meant.” He pointed the cock at me. “I know it’s mine, it’s even got my freckles on the head—you’ve a very fine eye for detail.”

  “Thank you.” I folded my arms over my breasts. “Now, Mr Horton, I’ll box it and you can settle your account at the till.” I moved to the shelving unit where I kept packaging.

  Suddenly he was behind me, his chest pressing into my back and his hot breath seeping down my neck. “I want to know where it’s been… what you’ve done with it,” he whispered into my hair. “I feel… violated knowing you’ve had a part of me to play with, treat as your own and I don’t know what went on.”

  I tried to twist and face him but he captured me in thick arms and held me facing my store of boxes.

  “Where has it been?” he murmured, pulling me tight against the length of his body.

  I dragged in a shocked breath. He was fully er
ect, hard as steel and prodding my lower back. “You smell of sex and you’re here alone.”

  “No, I don’t.”

  “You can’t deny it,’ he said. “It’s pouring off you like perfume. Woman and spice, lust and need, it’s around you like an aura, and since my cock was on the bench I’m guessing you two were entertaining each other.”

  My stomach flipped. I’d been rumbled. He was right, there was no denying it.

  “My cock doesn’t smell of pussy so I’m guessing it wasn’t here.” Through my jeans he pressed the tip of the fake dick against my mound, sending just the right amount of pressure to my already excited clit.

  I let out a whimper and rested my head back into the crook of his shoulder.

  “Perhaps it was here.” He ran it up over my sweater and nestled it between my tits.

  “No,” I said, watching the freckles wink at me as they caught the light.

  “Maybe here.” He spun me ‘round, captured my face in his hand and with a squeeze on either side of my mouth forced my jaw open.

  I went to mutter a protest but as soon as the sound emerged he poked the head of the dick into my mouth. My eyelids fluttered shut as I remembered the shape and size of it and the yearning it had generated in my pussy.

  “Perfect fit,” he said, pulling out.

  I opened my eyes, held his unwavering eye contact and poked out the tip of my tongue. Very slowly I licked his slit as though enjoying ice cream.

  His eyes clouded and like a tornado blasting my body, I was hit full on with his dark, heady, and downright predatory lust.

  We were going to fuck.

  I tipped forward and swallowed the cock again, even deeper this time and watched with satisfaction as his mouth slackened and he moaned in approval. “Bloody hell, you’re good,” he said, grinding his real cock against me, and hitting my stomach because of his height. “I knew the moment I came so hard just by looking into your eyes you were special.”

  He pulled the fake cock out of my mouth and his lips hit down on mine hard and insistent. His tongue forced past my teeth but I fought him at his own game, plunged my tongue into his hot, black coffee wetness and wrapped my arms around his neck.