The Mammoth Book of Best New Erotica 10

by Maxim Jakubowski

  Audrey stood up at the sound of the doorbell and, as she started to leave the bedroom, Greg turned his head to the sound of her footsteps and again said, “But …”

  He heard the door open and the sound of Audrey and another woman talking and laughing and couldn’t help but squirm in his restraints. He’d been fantasizing about submitting to another, severe woman, while Audrey stood by – or submitting to Audrey while another dominant woman – or maybe even women – watched but now it would be for real. He was getting more and more agitated and nervous. What if she didn’t like him? What if she was too extreme? What if she wasn’t extreme enough? What if she thought he wasn’t worth her time? What if he didn’t like her?

  He heard footsteps coming towards the bedroom and decided fantasy and reality colliding, while he lay naked and bound, was a bit on the anxiety-producing side.

  “Oh, this is very nice. I like what you’ve done with him. But that’s kind of a sad little cock, isn’t it?”

  “No, actually, he has quite a nice cock. I think he’s just nervous.”

  Audrey’s words washed over him like a calming balm and he began to swell with pride.

  “Ah, that’s better. Yes, I see what you mean.”

  Greg felt a hand wrap around his growing member as his blindfold was removed. It took a minute for his eyes to adjust to the light but as soon as he could see again, he saw her. She was pretty, but not beautiful – not the way Audrey was beautiful. She looked like an Irish stereotype: red hair, green eyes, white skin, freckles, but it was the black leather dress she was wearing that got his attention.

  She stroked his erection and stared him in the eye. “You’re a pretty little boy, aren’t you?” she asked. She picked up a black leather bag from the floor and set it on the bed, between his spread legs. Opening the bag without breaking eye contact with him, she reached in and brought out a red riding crop. “Would you like to play with me, Greg?”

  Audrey drifted to the head of the bed. She sat down next to him and began a light caress of his nipples. As they reacted to her touch, he turned his head to look at her and smile before feeling an intense stinging on the inside of his right thigh. His head immediately snapped back to watching Moira. Even though he was no longer gagged, he had grown used to not speaking unless required to do so.

  “I asked you a question, boy.”

  He sucked in air and gasped. “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Boys are so easily distracted, aren’t they?”

  Audrey pinched one of his nipples hard and he gasped, turning again to look at her before he felt the rhythmic stroke of Moira’s crop on the inside of his thighs. She alternated sides, and he was sure there wasn’t a square millimetre of flesh that wasn’t cherry red by the time she stopped. Audrey played sensuously with the top of his body, caressing his nipples, playing with his ears and kissing him, while his lower body was being punished. It was almost complete sensory overload.

  As if with a silent agreement, they both stopped touching him at the same time. His cock bobbed and twitched as he panted and gasped.

  “Oh yes, he’ll do. You’ve seen Ian. What do you think, want to swing?”

  “Totally,” Audrey replied. “How about Saturday night at Franco’s? About seven o’clock?”

  “That place on Elm? Great; we’ll be there.” Moira made her way to the head of the bed and kissed Greg on the cheek. “I’m looking forward to it,” she said, winking at him. She turned and, with a no-nonsense motion, sent the crop into the depths of her bag, snapped it shut and walked out the door, followed by Audrey. Greg couldn’t help wondering just what else she had hidden in there.

  His wife came back, after showing Moira out, and set to unfastening him from his restraints. “Well, that’s enough excitement for you today! You should save some of that energy for Saturday; it’s only three days away, you know.”

  “Are you sure this is right? You sure you really want to do this? I was only talking about a little scene with one of your girlfriends watching or something.”

  “Yes, baby, I’m sure.”

  “So, you’re talking about sex and everything?”

  “Well, yes, of course. I mean, I guess we could just switch off and play, but I thought it would be fun to really swing. Why, you’re not attracted to Moira?”

  Greg just stared at her for a moment, not sure of the proper response. How do you tell your wife you’re hot for someone else? It’s not like he wasn’t still hot for Audrey – he adored Audrey and was turned on by just thinking about her at least ten times a day. But Moira was exciting. And actually, the thought of Audrey playing with and fucking another man was also kind of exciting. Hoping he wasn’t digging his own grave, he said, “Well, yeah, I guess I am. Is that OK?”

  “Of course it’s OK; that’s the whole point.”

  “So you’re not mad or anything?”

  “Don’t be silly. That’s why I arranged this.”

  After three days of almost constant arousal, Greg found himself handing the car keys to the valet at Franco’s. Audrey had picked out his clothes – a royal blue silk shirt and black wool pleated trousers, a black sport jacket and no tie. The shirt contrasted beautifully with his dark hair and set off his blue eyes to best advantage. Audrey looked amazing in a black raw silk pencil skirt and a white silk blouse with silver cuff links. The skirt fell just below her knees and the blouse fell open almost to the middle of her chest. Her honey-colored hair had been slicked back in a tight chignon at the nape of her neck. She was devastating.

  She patted his ass and gave it a little squeeze when he met her at the front door to the restaurant. “Ready?”

  Butterflies were swept into a hurricane in his stomach and bees buzzed in his balls as he nodded his head and opened the door for her. As they walked in, he glanced towards the bar but didn’t see Moira. The fluttering subsided a bit until Audrey gave their name to the maître d’, who nodded and said, “Yes, madam, your party is waiting for you at the table. This way please.”

  Just as Greg recognized Moira, seated at a three-quarter banquette, her blond and suntanned companion stood for Audrey as they approached. Ian looked like a kid, but a pretty impressive kid. He had tousled hair that looked like he’d just gotten out of bed and a trimly muscled chest, tapering to a small waist, all shown off by the fitted green sweater he was wearing. Audrey had said ten years younger, which put him at about twenty-nine. God, had he ever looked that good? His wife’s eyes were sparkling.

  “Why don’t you sit here, by me,” Moira said, patting the booth next to her. Her hair fell in waves, past her shoulders. Greg couldn’t see past her waist, but she was wearing a softly gathered black halter-top, which appeared to be silk. As she turned to him and smiled he caught a glimpse of her nipples poking against the fabric and his butterflies woke up again.

  The two couples shared a light dinner, accompanied by a nice champagne. Audrey ordered for them both, as did Moira for Ian. They ate lightly, so as not to be too full for the activities ahead and Audrey plied Greg with enough wine to help loosen him up.

  Throughout dinner, Moira touched or caressed Greg’s thigh for emphasis or attention and, as the evening wore on, he began to feel more and more comfortable with the whole idea. The butterflies were still there, but they seemed more like excited butterflies, rather than nervous butterflies.

  Greg wondered if Audrey was touching Ian in the same way. Ian didn’t seem the least bit nervous, but then he and Moira did this all the time. Well, maybe not all the time, but often enough. He wondered whose idea it had been; had Ian said the same thing about wanting other women to watch Moira dominate him? But, evidently, it worked to both their satisfaction. He was beginning to feel more and more comfortable with the idea and more aroused at the prospect of not only playing with another woman, but having sex with her as well.

  When the check came, he reached for it, but Moira placed her hand over his. “No, let’s let tonight be my treat.” As she placed her credit card on the tray, she leaned over to him
and spoke directly into his ear. “I’ll exact payment from you later.” As they got up to leave, it was quite obvious that her words had produced the desired effect. Sheepishly glancing at Ian, Greg noticed that he was in the same state.

  Realizing he was slightly light-headed, Greg asked Audrey to drive. Moira and Ian arrived shortly after they did. Moira brought the same black leather bag from three days ago in with her. Once inside the house, Audrey ordered Greg to strip. Moira followed suit, telling Ian to take everything off and leave his clothes neatly folded by the couch.

  Being naked in front of another woman gave Greg an immediate hard on. This was a completely new situation for him and he looked over at Ian. The man was essentially hairless. Greg couldn’t tell whether his chest was naturally bare or had been waxed but he knew Ian’s genitals had been shaved – or possibly waxed – as he was completely bare. He was so exposed that Greg felt embarrassed to look. He felt a hand on his chest and turned to see Moira studying him. She put her arm around his neck and licked, then kissed, one of his nipples. As it crinkled from the attention, she reached up and placed a gentle kiss on his mouth. He turned to see what Audrey was doing, but Moira brought his face back to her and kissed him much more deeply. The arm around his neck moved down to the middle of his back and she lightly ran her free hand down his side, causing goosebumps to form and his nipples to stiffen even more.

  “Pick up my bag and show me to the guest room, Greg.”

  As he picked up the bag, he looked to Audrey, but she was already ushering a naked Ian towards their bedroom. Unsure of what to do with himself, he picked up the bag and looked to Moira before heading off after Audrey and Ian. Halfway down the hall, he stopped at a door. “This is the guest room, ma’am.”

  “You can call me Moira, after all, we’re all friends here, aren’t we? I think you’re a little nervous, but there’s nothing to be afraid of. Audrey and I have had several discussions and I know your limits. And, well, you know how to have sex, so I’m sure we’ll have a fine time.”

  “You and Audrey have had several discussions?”

  “Yes.”

  “About me?”

  “Yes.”

  “And swinging?”

  “Yes, of course. What’s the matter, don’t you think your wife listens to you? Now, I want you bent over the side of the bed, face down, that’s right.”

  “But she didn’t say anything to me about this. Nothing.”

  “Well, that’s fine. Now put your head back down on the bed. You have such a lovely ass.” She stroked his bottom gently. “Are you saying you don’t want to do this?”

  “No. I’m just saying … She never said anything to me. That’s all.” Greg felt a hard smack to his bottom and jumped just a bit.

  “Ah, that’s nice. Your skin colors right away.” She peppered his bottom with hard spanks until her hand became almost as tender as his red behind, before pulling a few lengths of rope from her bag. “Now, let’s see, how had Audrey fixed you to the bed before? Oh yes, of course. Turn over on your back now, Greg, in the middle of the bed, and spread your legs for me, that’s right.”

  She fastened his ankles and wrists to the bedposts and stepped back to survey her handiwork. She unzipped her black leather pants and slipped them off, then her halter top. Leaving only her black thong on, she stood otherwise nude before Greg. He couldn’t take his eyes from her creamy breasts and their small pink nipples. Noticing where his attention was centered, she cupped her breasts and kneaded them, pushing them up and offering them to him. Although his ass was on fire, his cock stood proudly.

  “Is this what you want?” she asked, showing him her breasts. “Well, maybe as a reward – later.” Reaching into her bag, she pulled out several items, showed them to him and laid them down on the bed. Among them was the same red crop she’d used on him days before, as well as a pair of gloves, some condoms and a bottle of lube. When she’d finished laying everything out, they heard a loud yelp from the master bedroom.

  “There now, that’s what I like to hear. Audrey says you like anal penetration. That’s good. Maybe next time I can really fuck you. Today I’ll just explore you with my fingers. But first, let’s see about getting your front to match your rear.”

  Greg was still back at the yelp. He wondered what his wife had done to Ian to make him yelp like that. He’d sort of forgotten where he was and it wasn’t until the crop hit his nipple and his own yelp brought him back to the present.

  Moira rained smacks on his chest and both nipples until he was completely tenderized, then she went to work on his thighs again. Once his body was tingling and vibrating with sensation, she began to gently explore his anus, first just teasing the outside of his sphincter, then letting her gloved finger dip in and out while she played with his balls.

  Greg had been hard for quite a while and the deeper Moira explored inside him, the tighter his balls became. When Greg pleaded with her to finally let him fuck her, she was ready for him. Kneeling between his legs, she’d been keeping close tabs on his arousal and already had the condom out when he begged. She rolled the condom down his cock and while he was fastened, spread wide for her, she removed her thong and settled herself on top of him, slowly impaling herself on his length.

  He groaned his appreciation and began to rock his pelvis with the little mobility afforded him. Moira leaned forward and lay across his chest, stopping his motion. “Now Greg, you stay still; I’ll do the work.” She bit one of his nipples and gripped his cock tightly inside her until he squeaked. Easing up on him, she sat back and let her body rhythmically milk him until she felt him begin to shake.

  “Don’t you dare come. I’m not finished with you,” she said.

  “Please, Moira, I don’t think I can last much longer.”

  Moira leaned forward enough to allow the base of his cock to rub against her clit as she bounced up and down on him to the music of his groans. “You just wait till I tell you. I know you know better than to come before me.

  Her motion became more and more frantic until finally, in the middle of a stroke, she froze with his cock half in and half out of her. Greg could feel the vibration start in her body and transfer itself to his cock. Her orgasm broke over both of them like a storm and, somewhere in the middle of it, Greg came with a roar.

  Once Moira relaxed, she rolled away from Greg and said, “I don’t remember telling you to come.”

  “Sorry, Moira, I couldn’t help it.”

  “I guess next time I’ll have to deal with that.”

  Put back together and dressed, they made their way into the living room to find Audrey and Ian already there, sitting on the couch, talking.

  “This is one sexy husband you have here,” Moira said.

  “Yours too,” Audrey replied.

  “We have this little club of couples into more than just swinging,” Moira said. “We get together at each other’s house about once a month. I thought you and Greg might like to join us. I think you’d fit in perfectly and I know you’d like the other couples in our kinky swing club.”

  Audrey looked at Greg and he grinned.

  “Well, you think about it and let me know. I’ll call you tomorrow, but now I think I need to get Ian home. Boys! They just come and go, don’t they? I think yours needs to be put to bed too.”

  Greg could feel his eyes wanting to close, but got up to walk the other couple to the door, with Audrey. After they said their goodbyes and Greg closed the door, he put his arms around Audrey’s waist and said, “Well, what did you think?”

  “I think I’d like to see your privates shaved,” she said, giving him a playful swat on the ass. “I’m exhausted! Let’s go to bed.’’

  The Communion of

  Blood and Semen

  Maxim Jakubowski

  On a day like this, I held her tight.

  On a day like this, she put her head on my shoulder, said nothing but almost purred. It felt good. It felt right. She was wrapped up in layers of clothing, like in a cocoon as she shelte
red herself from the daylight on this day like no other. My gift wrapped impossible fuck.

  The sky was blue, not a cloud in sight and a chilly wind channelled its way down the city streets, insidiously digging its way through the fabric of our coats, freezing the bones all the way deep under the skin.

  Her hands reached for mine. “Your skin is so warm,” she said.

  Hers was as cold as ice.

  Had always been.

  Her eyes were shielded from the brightness by dark glasses. I’d never known her without the glasses, even at night. Maybe that’s what first actually caught my attention about her. I’d always felt that people who wear shades in all and inappropriate circumstances were pretentious, poseurs or worse. She’d been the exception.

  A yellow cab drew up on McDougall, responding to my arm signal.

  “JFK,” I said as we bundled into the car. We had no luggage.

  We’d met in Manhattan. On, of all places, Craigslist, the Internet Sargasso of obscene desire, barter, thievery, fakery and false identities. I was travelling on business and feeling lonely, as endless New York nights stretched on forever as both jet lag and the repeated assault of bittersweet memories combined fiendishly to keep me awake most of the night with my hand not far away from my cock. Caressing myself aimlessly as I recalled the walk down from Washington Square to Ground Zero with Gina, and the rubber stamp embossed with the words “I Love You” I’d bought along the way on a gift shop on Broadway: tendrils of lust rising through the thick trunk of my awakening cock. Remembering a night at the Gershwin Hotel where I’d, in a spirit of mad improvisation, crushed a few raspberries and pushed the pulp inwards with two fingers up the cunt of the New Zealand woman I’d picked up a few days before at Newark Airport, and then followed the fragrant fruit with a square of chocolate which quickly melted in the furnace of her innards before I finally lapped it all up with my tongue before we fucked: my cock now becoming half hard and just that bit longer and sending a hundred volts of sexual electricity all the way through my groin. The apartment a few blocks up from Columbus Circle where I’d mounted Pamela, the wife of an experimental Armenian jazz musician, and breached her sphincter quite roughly as Bruce Springsteen’s “Candy’s Room” from the Darkness on the Edge of Town album punctuated our rhythmic thrusts on the record player: by this memory I was hard again, at last.