by Violet Blue
While he fumbled for condoms in the end table drawer, Katie glanced around the room, furtively, not quite sure she had the right. One look sufficed to let her know she was in a temple to fleshly desire. Above the fireplace was a watercolor of a woman draped over a chaise, touching herself between her legs. On the mantle was a copy of the famous Pompeian sculpture of Pan coupling with a she-goat. The other wall boasted framed black-and-white photographs of nude women gazing into the camera with strangely blank faces, their plump thighs parted, although their labia were mostly obscured by thick bushes of dark hair.
Alex was above her now, his trousers at his knees; his thick, red cock in its raincoat, poking toward her.
“I look like one of those French whores,” she said, nodding at the portraits.
“You do,” he admitted. “I’d like to photograph you this way. Later.”
“Then I’ll feel like one, too.”
“Is that bad?”
“Not in here,” she said, drawing him toward her, sighing as he slid inside, as his balls tickled her sensitized asshole with each thrust. He came inside her quickly, like a john, but she didn’t mind his selfishness. It made her feel good to give him pleasure.
Besides, she owed him one.
Afterward, he lent her an antique kimono to throw over her shoulders while he gave her a quick tour of the club. There were barrister bookcases filled with multiple illustrated editions of Fanny Hill, a slim volume called Blushing Bottoms, collections of erotic prints from China and Japan. He showed her a stereoscope with a stack of cardboard slides including a series on courtesans of Morocco and a scene of a woman in congress with a pony. His collection of old vibrators with thick, superannuated cords made her shiver—shocking, no doubt, in the most literal meaning of the word.
He waved his hand around to the dozen other drawers and cabinets, guarding secrets within secrets. “Anything special you’d like to see tonight?”
She hesitated. “What’s your greatest treasure?”
It was the right question. He smiled and walked to a writing desk, unlocking it with a key he produced from his pocket. He took out a small wooden box. They sat down on the sofa together and he opened it. Inside was cradled a slim object, the size of his palm, wrapped in soft cloth.
Secrets within secrets.
As she watched, breath bated, he unwrapped the bundle to reveal a tooled leather case and opened the latch. Through the protective glass, a woman, no doubt another fille de joie, stared out at them with dark, velvet eyes. She was nude, except for a bridelike gossamer veil draped over her head and shoulders.
“This is from the eighteen-forties.”
“The dawn of modern pornography,” Katie observed.
“Yes. This is how it all started.”
“She’s so voluptuous,” Katie murmured, noting the generous curves of the model’s belly and thighs.
“We don’t see many erotic pictures like this now. Models are airbrushed and starved, but I imagine real bodies look pretty much the same. Photographers weren’t afraid of flesh back then. They weren’t afraid of reality. They celebrated it.”
He gazed at the daguerreotype like a man in love.
Katie felt a flicker of jealousy. “How much is she worth?”
“I’m not sure I would sell her to anyone. It wasn’t easy to get hold of one in such good condition. A hundred and fifty years ago it was the same. A man had to go through many trials to earn possession of these ladies.”
“Trials do make the final reward sweeter.”
“Yes.” He acknowledged her with a quick smile, but his eyes were still fixed on the naked woman resting in his hands. “That’s why this is a treasure. But for me it’s more than that. It’s a doorway to the secrets of the past, to a time when sex meant something. Now it’s cheap. Back then there were consequences. Sacrifices.”
“Mostly for women,” she added.
“No, for a man of conscience as well. A true gentleman would not take his responsibilities lightly.”
She’d never seen him speak so passionately.
“I’m not sure I miss those days. I’d only be admitted to this place as a whore, not an honorary gentleman. Now I can be both.”
Finally he met her eyes. “So, is this what you expected?”
Katie paused, aware of her new privilege. For the first time since they’d met Alex was vulnerable to her judgment, her desire.
“That’s a difficult question to answer. But I am glad I passed the test.”
He smiled, his relief obvious, and draped his arm around her shoulder. “I’m glad I didn’t disappoint you. I like to keep my customers satisfied.”
His hand cupped her breast, tentatively, through the silk robe, and she yielded, leaning into him with a sigh. There was time for more words later. Time to confess that now she’d earned entrance to the secret room, she was hungrier than ever. She wanted to know it piece by piece, have him introduce each treasure like an old friend; recount its story, its charms, whether it moved him to jerk off, or whether he needed to be punished for thinking such naughty things. She knew she wouldn’t be satisfied until she learned every secret in this room.
The secret history of lust.
PASTA WITH BLUE CHEESE AND ANAL
Ms. Naughty
The blue cheese melts on my tongue, sharp and creamy at the same time. I close my eyes and savor the luscious sensation of the flavor, a blush of wrongness combined with heavenly cream. The taste sends a shiver through me, making my ass clench briefly around the slim butt plug.
I smile. Tonight, as my anniversary present, Stephan will fuck me in the ass.
I am fussing around the kitchen, making the evening’s special meal, pasta with blue cheese and asparagus. It’s hard to keep my mind on the job because my anticipation of tonight’s debauchery is seriously distracting. All I can think about is sensation.
I’m supposed to be cutting up the blue cheese but instead I’m eating it, slipping slivers of yellow delight into my mouth, letting it rest there while the flavors slowly dissolve, and then washing it down with a sip of bold cabernet sauvignon.
Yes, bold is the word for this wine, if not downright aggressive. It’s the kind of wine that would hold you down and fuck you hard without preamble, if it were a man. But it suits the cheese perfectly, and I am in a gourmand’s heaven.
I never used to like blue cheese. I remember my first taste of it as a young girl, tentatively biting into a small slice from a party platter. I remember how the strong taste overwhelmed my inexperienced senses, and I promptly spat it out in horror. It took years, many years, before I was willing to try it again, and even then I had to work hard at enjoying it. Slowly, the juxtaposition of bitterness, sourness, and delightful cream won me over.
I never used to like anal sex either.
I’ve heard it said that women will try anal sex twice: once to see what it’s like and a second time to see if it really is that bad. I used to be one of those women.
The first time I ever tried it was in college. I was young and stupid—par for the course. I offered up my ass after much impassioned prompting from my then-boyfriend, Dennis. There was no preparation, no lube, no pleasure at all. What was more awful than the cringing pain and fervent wish for the fucking to be over was the fact that I collapsed into tears afterward, turning my face to the wall. I remember Dennis worryingly stroking my brow and apologizing fervently, but I couldn’t speak. I’d been a willing participant, eager to try something new, but it was a sordid loss of that particular virginity, one that left me feeling violated and strangely sad.
From then on I was certain that anal was something men wanted but women shouldn’t offer. What was the point, after all? Guys seemed mad for it, if only so they could boast about it to their friends. What sane, pleasure-loving woman would want to stick a cock in her ass?
Stephan changed all that.
Beautiful, serious Stephan, the love of my life. Stephan with his wry smile, sharp mind and a tongue to match, a thin man with the weight of t
he world on his shoulders and the light of mischief in his eyes. He too is an acquired taste, just like the blue cheese—just like anal. As with all difficult pleasures, he is absolutely worth the effort.
Stephan opened the crack, as it were. He began my anal innings by gently touching my butt during a particularly rampant session of cunnilingus. There I was, writhing like a pleasure-stricken octopus as he expertly tongued my swollen clit, my hands grasping my forehead, my breasts, and then his head, pushing him into my cunt with glee. Suddenly he touched a finger to my ass, wriggled it. The shock of it—and the distinctly pleasurable sensation—sent me into spasms, complete with neighbor-annoying squeals.
Afterward he looked me straight in the eye and said: “Have you ever been fucked in the ass?”
I flushed, suddenly filled with an unidentifiable shame, and I couldn’t meet his gaze.
“Well?” he asked.
“Once,” I admitted, quietly. “In college. It really hurt.”
“Mmm,” he said, nodding; unsurprised, perhaps. His dark eyes held mine, considering.
“What? What about it?” I felt my face grow hot, ready to be offended for no reason whatsoever.
“That’s unfortunate,” he said, his tone tinged with pity.
I don’t like to be pitied in bed.
“Unfortunate,” I snorted. “Yes, it is, isn’t it? Anal is just a stupid thing girls do to make guys happy. It’s what you do when you want to pretend to be a porn star—bend over and take it up the ass like a good girl! And it’s not natural. There’s a perfectly decent cunt right there so why would you fuck someone’s butt? I wish I’d never tried it, that’s what I wish. I was just trying to make my boyfriend happy in college when I did it. Big mistake.”
“You know there are women who enjoy anal,” Stephan said quietly.
“Yeah, right,” I said. “And they get paid by the hour for it.”
“You liked it when I touched you there tonight.”
“That’s different.”
“How?”
“You were just shocking me into getting off.”
“Are you sure?”
“I don’t like anal.”
“It’s an acquired taste, you know.”
“No way are you fucking my ass, Stephan.”
He smiled, his expression more than a little condescending, but he said nothing more. The conversation stopped there, and we didn’t explore it further for some months.
Indeed, it was me who initiated it again as we lay languid on the tangled sheets, our sweat drying after a long Sunday afternoon fuck fest.
“So, how many times have you done anal?”
Stephan looked sideways at me, but didn’t blink. He answered with a matter-of-fact tone. “I don’t know. Probably too many times to count.”
“Who with? Sherie?” I couldn’t keep the bitchy tone out of my voice when I said her name.
“No. She was too uptight for that. Wouldn’t let me anywhere near her ass.”
I decided to ignore the “uptight” reference. “Who then?”
“A girlfriend from a while ago. You don’t know her. She just liked anything anal, so I was happy to oblige.”
“I don’t understand how any woman can actually ask for it.”
Stephan reached up and gently circled my lips with his forefinger. “She knew how to do anal properly, so it was always good. And she taught me the right way too, so it never hurt her. It was never like when you did it in college that time. She always had massive orgasms when I fucked her ass.”
I couldn’t help it—my pussy clenched when he said that. “She…she actually came?”
“Oh, yeah. She always said her orgasms were better during anal.”
I found myself wondering how a woman could possibly come if she had a dick in her ass. It didn’t seem right. Was there some kind of trick to it? Or was she just some kind of freak?
“How do you do it properly, then?” I asked, curious in spite of myself.
Stephan shrugged. “Patience, lube, a vibrator. Maybe a butt plug. The most important thing is that the woman has to want it and enjoy herself, otherwise it’s pointless. Anal sex is always about the woman’s pleasure.”
I’d never thought of it that way.
“And it helps if you’re in love with each other, of course.”
I looked at him, expecting that last comment to be cynical somehow. His expression, however, was completely guileless. He really meant it.
Again, my pussy squeezed involuntarily.
For a week afterward I couldn’t stop thinking about our conversation, turning it over in my mind. I wondered if I was being too closed-minded about the whole business. Maybe I was denying myself something that might be pleasurable, something that might enhance my relationship with Stephan. The idea of anal sex was still frightening, but I realized that what he’d said was comforting, somehow. Stephan was good in bed, no doubt about that. Perhaps this was something he’d also be good at.
So one day, alone with my vibrator, I decided to do a little experimentation. After a few minutes of standard clit stimulation I moved Ol’ Faithful down to my ass, tentatively touching the tip to my closed pucker. I groaned in spite of myself—it felt good! Spreading my legs wide, I manually rubbed my clit and let the buzzing plastic of the vibe probe against my anus. Soon I found myself wanting to push it inside but my mounting orgasm arrived in a fury and I never got that far.
The day after that I combined Ol’ Faithful with my Hitachi Magic Wand and damned near hit the roof.
I then asked Stephan to help me experiment a little more.
“You want me to do…what?” he blurted, nearly dropping a bottle of expensive white.
The kitchen probably wasn’t the place to spring it on him.
In any case, he was eager to educate me. We had some amazing fuck sessions, just him, his fingers, my ass, and my vibes. I couldn’t help but be stunned at how easily my asshole would relax when I was turned on. He’d lick and tickle me into a frenzy before getting to work on my butt, teaching me to welcome the new and satisfying sensations. Bit by bit, the fear retreated, replaced by a wondrous desire to explore my own body. I found myself getting turned on by the very idea of anal sex, daydreaming about it at work, my panties dampening during business meetings.
Soon, I was ready to be fucked in the ass.
And the first time we did it, I cried.
This time, however, it was tears of joy, an outpouring of sheer emotion. The pleasure of the act was new and exciting, but the intimacy of the thing overwhelmed me. I’d opened up and shared something secret with Stephan, something profoundly personal and joyful. We both leapt into a sea of sensation, just the two of us floating in pure animalistic sexual awareness, our orgasms teetering delicately at the edge, ready to send us into oblivion. It was better than I’d ever imagined.
Anal became a special thing for us, an opportunity to reconnect with each other, to indulge in absolute no-holds-barred sex without barriers, a meeting of souls.
It sounds mad, I know. How can anal sex be a spiritual thing? For certain it’s not something they encourage at Catholic marriage counseling.
I don’t care though. Anal is what we do, and we do it with love, every time.
Tonight I’m just as eager and excited as that first time. Stephan will be home any minute, and our special celebration will begin. I’ve managed to salvage some of the blue cheese for the pasta, and the meal is almost ready. I take another sip of red wine and swirl it around my mouth, thinking about the fun I had slipping in my butt plug. It’s there now, tight and secure, getting ready to make way for Stephan’s hot cock.
He arrives a little late, closing the door quietly behind him in his usual careful way. His hassled post-work expression dissolves when he sees the way I’m dressed—suspenders, corset, silk panties, the whole shebang. Within seconds I’m in his warm embrace, his lips pressed urgently against mine. He reaches a hand down to my asscheek and grabs a handful of flesh. The subsequent jiggling of m
y butt plug makes me moan involuntarily.
I pour him some wine and serve out the meal, the table immaculately set with silverware and candles. The food is perfect, and I’m proud of my efforts in the kitchen, but I can’t give it the attention it deserves. Stephan is teasing me.
“Did you masturbate today?” he asks.
I giggle coquettishly, playing the game. “Of course not. I’ve been waiting for you.”
“Not even when you were pushing that lovely butt plug into your ass and fucking yourself with it ever so slowly?”
“Well…maybe just a little.”
“Did you come as you were playing with your ass?”
“I didn’t really come. Not very much.”
“Did you wish my cock was sliding into you, pounding you so hard that you begged?”
We don’t finish our dinner.
Stephan leads me hurriedly to the bedroom, stripping off his clothes with ease. The sight of his wiry muscled body and thick cock turns me on, as always. He bends me over the bed so my ass is sticking up in the air and gently eases my panties down. The bright pink silicone base of the butt plug nestles between my asscheeks, and I know seeing it makes him eager to fuck me.
Stephan reaches over to the nightstand, and I feel a cool trickle wallowing down the crack of my ass. He rubs the lube all over and I sigh. His hands are always warm.
“Get the Hitachi. I want to play with you,” he says. I obey, reaching under my pillow to where the electric vibe lies, waiting and ready. The throbbing vibrations against my swollen clit make me moan, but I’m already anticipating what comes next.
Stephan slips two fingers into my cunt and then jiggles the base of the butt plug. The combination of sensations is exquisite, and I feel like I could come immediately. No doubt about it, I’m now such an expert at butt-fucking I can orgasm at the drop of a lube bottle. A part of me is amazed at how far I’ve come. As it were.
Stephan gently pulls the butt plug out and then plunges it inside again, fucking me with the toy. He has an innate knowledge of what I need and how much force I want, never going beyond the boundaries of what I can take. I love him for that.
