Stories for When the Sun Goes Down (Sexy Anthology)

by Lily Harlem

  Big, solid biceps squeezed my torso and my feet lifted from the floor. “You want the real thing?” he asked between kisses.

  “Yes,” I managed. “But not in my mouth.”

  “Where?”

  “You know where.”

  He sat me at the feet end of the high bench and cupped my face. “I want to hear you say it.”

  I drifted my hands down his rock solid pecs to his belt with filthy intentions rampaging through my mind.

  “No.” He grabbed my wrists. “Not until you tell me where you want me.”

  “I want you…” I licked my lips and narrowed my eyes. “In my pussy.”

  “Cunt,” he said in a voice so deep it was a growl. “I want you to say cunt.”

  “Okay… cunt… I want your cock in my cunt.” My heart surged with the dirtiness of the words. Saying it in front of Theo, about Theo, was like having a shot of neat adrenaline injected into my clit.

  In a sudden frenzy he dragged my jeans and knickers from my hips and whisked them so hard from my ankles he yanked me to the tip of the bench. He kissed me again, hard and appreciatively, sucking and licking my neck, nibbling my nipples through my sweater. I ran my hands over his shoulders and lay backward.

  His hands were fiddling under the bench. I heard the clunk of unfolding metal and the next thing I knew my feet were simultaneously lifted into the stirrups I kept for making vulva moldings, perfectly positioned to keep ladies’ legs high and dry with their butts perched over the edge.

  Theo stepped between my spread legs and stared down at my intimate folds. If I hadn’t been so insanely turned on I would have squirmed with self-consciousness at being so exposed.

  “I’ve been vulnerable in front of you,” he said quietly. “And it was the hottest thing I’ve experienced in a long time so I want you to experience that too.” He brushed through my tight curls of scarlet pubic hair. “I’m glad it’s your natural colour,” he said with an approving nod.

  I twitched my hips as he sank to his knees and flicked his tongue over my desperate clit. I groaned and stretched my arms above my head when a roll of thunder rattled the studio.

  His rain-cool fingers rimmed my entrance, exploring and spreading my juices into every secret place. He began to suck greedily on my nub and I whimpered and shoved my hips onto his face as far as constraints would allow.

  “Don’t come, not yet,” he ordered, licking his way down my inner thigh. “Not until I say, just like you controlled me.”

  “But…”

  His tongue re-tangled with my clit and he began stretching my vagina, pumping in two thick fingers and scissoring them to release tight tissue. My flesh quivered. The sensations were overwhelming, an orgasm was beginning to build, preparing to erupt.

  His hot body loomed over mine again and I groaned at the loss of his expert attentions between my legs. He kissed my mouth and as I tasted myself on his lips. The cool head of the dildo swirled at my entrance then drove in an inch.

  “No… I want the real thing,” I said, squirming.

  The dildo slipped down and exerted a firm pressure on my anus. I bucked at the shocking sensation but was unable to move away.

  “What about here?” he asked.

  “No,” I whimpered, my mind spinning at the dirty, forbidden yet disturbingly exciting suggestion.

  “Next time,” his voice was low and decidedly dangerous. “You’ll take us both.”

  My sphincter fizzed at the impossible thought of being fucked and buggered at the same time by Theo.

  Hail suddenly pounded the skylights. The lights flickered as a crack of lightening and a peel of thunder boomed overhead.

  “Please,” I begged my voice needy and desperate. “The real thing… in my cunt.”

  The dildo clattered to the floor. With an unintelligible grunt he unzipped his trousers, rolled on a condom and then shoved the hot, hard head of his glorious prick against my pussy. I groaned, utterly at his mercy, no longer caring if he took his time or slammed into my fraught body.

  It seemed slamming was on the agenda. In one hard, pumping thrust he buried to the hilt, shoving in until his balls rammed against my spread ass. I cried out as my vaginal muscles spasmed in protest. Pain and pleasure were mixing in a confusing cocktail of bliss and sweet flames were licking me from the inside out.

  “Fuck you’re so snug and soft,” he hissed, bending forward, shoving up my sweater and sucking my nipples through my thin bra.

  I arched my back and flexed my neck. Hands still above my head, I gripped the sides of the bench. I was being impaled. It was agonizingly magnificent. Where his tongue had left off his pubis bone took over, grinding and slamming onto my delicate, needy bud as he withdrew and then thrust back in. An orgasm was rushing to meet me with all the grace of a steam train, tightening my chest and somersaulting my stomach.

  He shifted upright between my raised legs, the high bench an ideal height for him to stand tall while he fucked me. He tipped his head back, his neck tendons thick cords as another flash of lightening streaked overhead and lit up his face.

  “Theo…” I gasped.

  “Fuck, you feel good.” He looked down at where we’d joined, wrapped his fingers around my bare hips and rammed me harder onto his solid cock.

  I curled forward, gripped his wrists, and watched the thick root of his shaft burying deep.

  “So… hot,” I panted. “Too see that.”

  “Tell me about it.” He pulled out, raced back in. Repeated it over and over. When he was at full depth I was sure he was nudging my diaphragm because my breaths had to hitch in time with his frantic thrusts. I tried to speak, tell him I could take it, take all of it, but I couldn’t form coherent words and the sound emerged as a wail of pleasure.

  He bent over me again, pressing me backward. “I’m gonna come… for fuck’s sake, join me this time.”

  I didn’t need to be asked, my orgasm was there. By bending forward he’d shifted the folds of my sex and my clit was in maximum connection with his surging body. Combined with the colossal dick stabbing my pussy, I was on my way to heaven.

  I stopped kissing him, lost to everything but ecstasy; it hovered, it flew and then crashed through me. I clenched his dick relentlessly, over and over, pulling him higher, squeezing him tighter.

  He froze at the highest point and then pulsated wildly within me. “Fuck, yes,” he groaned, scooping his arms under my shoulders and pinning me to his chest in a steely grip. “Yes, yes, yes…”

  Eventually I opened my eyes. My body was trembling, my insides convulsing and my legs were shaking in their suspended position.

  He was right there, right above me, gazing at my dazed state. “That,” he said breathlessly as a whisper of a smile danced on his lips, “Is my idea of body molding.”

  “I Promise to Please”

  The faraway look Jake sometimes got in his eyes frightened me. Not chill-to-the-bones scared, or creeping-through-a-graveyard-in-the-middle-of-the-night terrified, but an unease, a throat-tightening fear for the future—our future.

  Despite his devil-may-care persona he’d been broken when I’d first met him. After spending years in love with a girl who was never going to love him back he’d almost given up on happiness. I’d spent many an evening as his friend, hanging out in the village local, knocking back drinks and watching sport on the big-screen TV the landlord had installed. Often he’d end up chatting about Marie, and I would listen patiently, my heart twisting with longing for him to talk of me that way.

  How she couldn’t have let herself fall into those inky-black eyes of his, been mesmerized by his slightly plump bottom lip and the soul patch of dark stubble he let grow beneath it was beyond me. Jake was a hunk in a league of his own—to my eyes at least. Tall, dark and handsome described him well but was too bland a phrase. It didn’t capture the way he held his big body in a casual, long-muscly limbed way, or how the hairs on his forearm petered out slightly around his wrist and then faded completely on the backs of his hands.
It didn’t mention the silver bar in his right eyebrow that gave him an edgy, could-be-a-rebel look, which, I’d discovered, hit all the right buttons in me.

  He was leaning on a single bar fence now, gazing across the field that stretched from the back of our cottage garden. The sun had dipped, twilight would soon be upon us, rubbing away the last lilacs and pinks that washed across the sky in slim fingers.

  “Hey, you,” I said, resting my hand between his shoulder blades and feeling his body heat radiate onto my palm.

  He turned. I knew I’d surprised him by the look on his face.

  “Cassie, I didn’t know you were back from the ward.”

  “Just got in.” I glanced down at my nurse’s uniform and clumpy shoes. “What were you day dreaming about?”

  He twisted, reached for my hand and tugged me close. Pressed a kiss to my lips. “You.”

  “I wish.”

  He looked hurt. “I was, though…” He paused and shrivelled his nose. “You didn’t smell like a hospital in my day dream.”

  “Sorry.” I stepped back with a grin. “I’ll go shower.”

  “Good plan. I’ll get dinner started. I bet you’re starving.”

  I let the lavender-scented body-wash replace the smells of the ward and held my face to the streaming water. Jake and I had been married for three years. Working hard, paying a big mortgage, getting the cottage just how we planned. Life was good, and I wanted it to stay that way. I would sell my soul to keep things between Jake and I on an even keel. He was my world, my universe, my reason for breathing, and I couldn’t remember a time when he hadn’t been.

  But perhaps work and our decorating plans should go on hold for a while. Maybe it was time to invest some effort and energy in us, as a couple. Cassie and Jake, the friends who eventually discovered they couldn’t live apart and had found solace in each other’s arms—so everyone thought. For me, I’d just been biding my time.

  I stepped out of the shower, dried off and went into the bedroom. 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. It was my sex-toy bag.

  Lifting it out, I lay it on the bed, tried 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. 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 have 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 like Tesco 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 plenty.” 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’m only ever going to use them with you so I figured we might as well get started.”

  “I like your way of thinking.” He leaned over, touched 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 at Tesco 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. Flicked 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 get 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. Lets 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 and the sun warmed 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 frenetic pace at work.”

  “Mmm, it is quiet—in fact, 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 h
is 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 with a thrill of excitement blasting though 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. “We’re out.”

  “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 within 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.” I swallowed. The thought of Jake’s cock, in my mouth, now, here, outside, was more exciting than I thought it could ever be.