Hot Stories for Cold Nights

by Joan Elizabeth Lloyd

  Together they jumped into the deep end of the pool, played, and splashed for a few minutes. Then he turned her so that her chest and belly were against the cold tiles, his warm, hard flesh against her back. She was effectively pinned to the side of the pool. She felt his rigid member probing between her cheeks. He lifted her slightly so she had to hold on to the edge, grabbed her hips, and entered her pussy from behind. “I love filling you, sliding into your slick passage.” In slow motion he withdrew, then entered her again. He was driving her wild with need, each thrust pressing her breasts against the rough concrete edging. She arched her back, giving him a better angle.

  “Here’s another thrill,” he growled into her ear. “Look up.”

  She gasped. Now there were several other couples in lawn chairs around the pool, watching everything they were doing. “How do you like being watched?”

  “It’s . . .”

  His chuckle was warm in her ear. “Yeah, it is, isn’t it? I knew you’d find it as erotic as I do.” He thrust into her again and listened to her moan. “Everyone can hear your pleasure.”

  She was mortified, but it was also incredibly hot. All those eyes, staring at her face, reading every expression, knowing what Jared was doing. Her body jerked and her breasts bounced with each thrust and she couldn’t control her gasps of delight.

  Jared reached around and rubbed her clit, driving her mad. Then one of the men got up from his lawn chair and moved to the edge of the pool, settling himself so her face was between his legs. His dick was slender, but fully aroused. Tangling his fingers in her hair, he pulled Mandy’s head up and gazed into her eyes. When she opened her mouth, he slid his cock inside, gently fucking her hot, moist cavern.

  Jared was still buried in her pussy while his talented fingers massaged her clit. She came then, screaming, while the cock pulled out of her mouth and sprayed come on her breasts.

  Gasping for air, she suddenly found herself back in her bedroom, spread on her bed. Jared was straddling her waist, cock nestled between her breasts. “This way works, too,” he said, his slick member sliding up and down her breastbone. He took her hands and used them to press her breasts together as he fucked her tits. “You have great tits,” he said, then threw his head back and roared in complete release. Semen sprayed over her chin and cheeks. He scooped a bit onto one finger and held it to her lips. “Taste, so you can describe that, too.”

  She did. “Salty, tangy, and sort of slithery.”

  He laughed again. “There are better words, but I’ll leave that up to you.” He climbed off the bed, pulled a light blanket over her, and slowly faded away.

  Mandy slept well.

  Later that evening she wrote another scene for the book and sent it off to her agent. She wanted his reaction, but she really didn’t need it. She knew it was good.

  She glanced at her watch. It was only seven thirty and she realized that she was starving. She backed up her files, put her computer to sleep, and wondered whether she’d ever see Jared again. She didn’t need him anymore, not for her writing anyway, but she’d be empty without his lovemaking.

  Depressed at the thought of not seeing him again, she decided to treat herself to a bowl of wonton soup and some chicken with cashews from Cantonese Empire on the corner. As she stood outside her apartment waiting for the elevator, a man walked out of the apartment next to hers and joined her at the elevator. “Hi,” he said. “I just moved in.”

  “Hello,” she said, extending her hand, “nice to meet you. I’m Mandy.”

  He wasn’t particularly good-looking, but he had a sparkle in his eyes and a slightly knowing smile. “Glad to meet you, too, Mandy.” He extended his hand. “My name’s Jared.”

  Nah, she thought. Coincidence! However . . .

  Thongs

  EVER WORN A PAIR OF THONG PANTIES? I HAVE, AND WEARING them has changed my life. Okay, not my entire life, but my attitude toward lots of things, including my husband and our sex life.

  It all began a few weeks ago. I took several pairs of my panties out of the washer and the elastic was shredded. Little strings were tangled around half the stuff I’d laundered and the waistbands were a wreck. It was time for some new stuff. I could have gone to Walmart, but I’d just gotten a small bonus at work, so I decided to treat myself. Victoria’s Secret, here I come.

  During my lunch hour the next day, I drove over to the mall. I gazed in the lingerie shop’s window, then entered and walked over to look at the panties. They had dozens of styles: bikinis, briefs, sporty cotton athletic-looking ones, things called cheekies, and hip huggers. They had panties in every color, shape, and size: fancy cotton, lace, silk, satin, ruffles, bows, ribbons, flowers—you get the idea. They had just about every design you could imagine. And, of course, they had thongs.

  I wandered over to the display and I guess I made a face. They looked truly uncomfortable and like they were made for teenyboppers, so I walked away. “They really aren’t difficult to get used to, and they’re very sexy. You’ve got just the right shape for them.” The salesgirl looked to be about my age, late twenties, and had a nice but not anorexic figure. “You should really try a pair.”

  I glanced at the fitting room, but she quickly said, “I’m sorry, but you can’t try them on, I’m afraid. Not allowed. But you should really take a pair for a test drive.”

  “Nah,” I said. She was just trying to make a sale. “I think I’ll find something else.”

  “I thought just like you before I tried a pair. Let me suggest something.” She took a pair from the rack. “These are on sale, soft, stretchy lace, and they’ll give you the feel of wearing a thong. I’ll bet once you try a pair for a day you’ll never wear anything else.”

  Just the right shape, she’d said. Okay, I’ve got a pretty nice figure, but I’m certainly not anorexic, and I’ve got a substantial ass. I was used to having my panties snug against my behind. This little piece of fabric wouldn’t cover my cheeks at all.

  I glanced at the price tag. Surprised, I said, “They really are on sale.”

  “I’m not trying to con you into buying something just because. If I were, I’d sell you lingerie for quite a bit more money. Please, do me a favor. I’m sure about this.”

  She’d convinced me. I had intended to buy several pairs of panties, but I decided that, since she was so convinced I’d like them, I’d take one pair for a test run and make a decision later. “Okay, you’ve sold me.” She showed me ones in my size and I picked a pair in red. Might as well go all the way.

  AT HOME, I FOUND A RED DEMI BRA IN THE BACK OF MY underwear drawer, and after my shower the following morning, put it on and slithered into my new thong. The panty was a wide band of lace that stretched around my hips with a strip of matching satin that slipped between my legs. The front just covered my mound and the thong narrowed in the back to slide between my cheeks. I noticed some pubic hair sticking out and used a little pair of scissors to trim my bush. I looked at myself in the mirror and, while I watched, wiggled my hips. It felt funny to feel my ass cheeks jiggle, and as I moved, the strap slipped deeper into my ass crack until it lay tightly against my anus.

  Sexy? You bet. I found myself getting wet just feeling the lace against my crotch. Damn if the saleslady wasn’t right. I looked myself over, sizeable breasts filling my bra nicely and those amazingly sexy panties seemed to point directly to my crotch. Jeff will be delighted, I thought.

  “Holy shit, babe,” my husband said when he saw me, eyes almost bugging out of his head. “Those are sexy as hell.” Let me assure you that I haven’t seen that look on his face since we were first married.

  “Sorry, big guy,” I teased. “Work calls.” With his eyes never leaving my body, I pulled on a pair of tight slacks and a sweater, slipped on knee-high stockings and low-heeled shoes. I decided to put a pair of my old panties in my purse in case the thong got too uncomfortable. Pocketbook in hand, I all but ran out the door. The last thing Jeff saw was my jiggling fanny. Let him think about me all day. I was su
re that, with my new undies, I’d be thinking of him.

  Actually, I did think of him, but I found myself getting turned on by fantasies of almost every cute guy I saw. I’m sure that a suit-wearing man on the bus checked out my butt under my slacks and grinned at me. The guy who worked in the cubicle next to mine gave me a curious look after I walked down the hall. At lunch, the fellow standing in line behind me in the cafeteria glanced at me, then at my wedding ring, and sighed. Okay, maybe it was all my imagination, but those thoughts kept my nipples hard and my pussy wet all day.

  As I walked around, my pussy lips sort of parted and the thong pressed against my clit so that, as the day wore on, I had to change into my old-fashioned cotton panties just to keep the crotch of my slacks from getting soaked. I was going to masturbate in the stall, but I wanted to save it for Jeff. I changed back before leaving work.

  My husband had gotten home before me. “I left early,” he said, grabbing my ass as I closed our front door behind me. “I kept thinking about that underwear you’ve got on, and I couldn’t wait to get my hands on you.”

  I’ve never been the aggressive type, but I turned him so his back was against the door and pressed my mound against the front of his slacks. Oh, yeah, he was right about where his thoughts were. The hard ridge of him was obvious. I reached down and squeezed him. “I get the message.”

  He kissed me. And I mean kissed me. I love the way Jeff kisses when he’s hot. His kiss said it all. While his tongue was busy in my mouth, his hands found my breasts. He squeezed my tits, somehow pushing my breasts over the tops of my bra cups so he could pinch my turgid nipples. I was as aroused as he was. I unzipped his fly and found his cock with only a layer of cotton between my fingers and his hardness.

  “God, baby,” he said. “Let’s move this into the bedroom.”

  I backed off, then wiggled my way down the hall to our room. He stripped out of his clothes really quickly and stretched out on the bed. I remained standing. I was getting into it, enjoying teasing him. “Not so fast,” I said. I had no idea where this brazen woman had come from, but from the look in Jeff’s eyes, he was loving it all.

  “Come on, baby. I’m so hungry for you.”

  “I know, and I like it.” I grabbed the bottom of my sweater and slowly pulled it off over my head. My boobs were still spilling over the top of the bra, and as he watched I unhooked it and slowly took it off. He’s always loved my tits so I held them out for him.

  When he reached for me, I moved away and said, “Don’t get grabby. Put your hands back down.” When he looked puzzled, I said, “No hands.”

  “This isn’t like you,” he said, curling his fingers as a simulation of squeezing my breasts. “You’re never . . .”

  “Are you complaining?”

  He sighed and smiled. “No, not at all.” He put his hands beside his hips on the bed, palms up.

  “That’s a good boy.” I leaned over the bed and let my boobs hang over Jeff’s mouth. I slowly lowered one so he could suck on my nipple. He knows just how hard to pull to make me crazy. I felt the tiny panties getting still wetter. I stood and pulled off my slacks. As I started to remove the thong, he said, “Leave that on. It’s like gift wrap for my favorite part of you.”

  His cock was sticking straight up so I straddled him. He pushed the strip of material to one side and, grabbing my hips, rammed me down onto his dick. I was sopping so he slid inside with no trouble. God, he felt so good, filling my pussy with his hard flesh. I wanted, needed, took. I think we were both a little crazed, so I raised and lowered myself on his cock faster and faster. Then, without his erection ever leaving my body, he flipped me over and pounded his cock into me.

  His fingers found my clit through the lacy material and the sort of muffled feeling, combined with his hard cock inside of me, drove me over the edge. My scream was followed almost immediately by his. We collapsed together and dozed off. I awoke, thinking about the following day and my trip to Victoria’s Secret for more thong panties. Wow!!!

  Movie Mania—Part 1: Captain Blood

  LARRY LAY IN BED, WATCHING HIS FAVORITE OLD MOVIE, Captain Blood, on his HDTV. God, he thought, Errol Flynn. They don’t make heroes like that anymore. He’s brave and handsome, and he always gets the girl—in this case, Olivia de Havilland. The music, the sets, the costumes. He loved everything about the movie.

  He stretched out, watching through his toes, munching peanuts. He really enjoyed his evenings alone, while his wife was out at her book group. Oh, he loved his wife, and they had a great life together, but he relished this alone time when he could fantasize about being anyone he wished. Captain Blood: gentleman, doctor, pirate. He’d love to be a pirate, capturing ships, plundering and seizing beautiful women.

  He dozed.

  He was Errol Flynn, lithe, muscular, handsome. He was on the deck of his ship, chasing a British vessel, closing the distance, ordering cannon fire, wielding his sword, yelling to his men to board the ship. Gradually all the enemy sailors disappeared, leaving him in front of the door to the ship’s main cabin. He opened it.

  She was cowering in the corner, her beautiful, long mahogany-colored hair in disarray, her lips reddened with fear, her beautiful cheeks flushed. Not Olivia de Havilland. She looked instead like Elizabeth Taylor in her prime, eyes the deepest violet, surrounded by long eyelashes and arched brows. Her hands twisted a lace handkerchief, fingers long and slender. And she was his for the taking. He quickly ordered the two pirates who followed him to remove her to his cabin on the pirate ship. “But, Captain,” one said, “you get all the women. Can’t we have this one?”

  He had but to tilt his head slightly and raise one eyebrow to have them scurrying to do as he’d bid them.

  He opened the door to his cabin later and found her, fastened to the head of his bed by a rope around one wrist. She stood as he entered, back straight, chin lifted and firm, brave to the end. “Please,” she said, her voice quavering only slightly. “I know my father will pay you for my safe return.”

  Now that she was standing, he noticed her tiny waist and well-formed breasts swelling out of the neckline of her virginal white dress. He slowly shook his head, then said in a quiet voice, “You are mine and I mean to have you.”

  “No, please,” she said, a slight catch in her throat. “I’m to be married. What will my husband say?”

  “Why should I care?” Like lightning, he reached out and grabbed her free arm. Now scared out of her mind, she struggled, trying in vain to free herself, but with one arm securely fastened to the headboard of the large bed, she had no chance. She tried to scratch his face, bite his arm, kick at his legs, but to no avail. He merely laughed, loving it when women fought him.

  Eventually her thrashing slowed as he’d known it would, and she sagged onto the edge of the bed, breathing hard. He released the wrist he’d been holding, and she rubbed the slight abrasion. The fight had whetted his appetite, and his cock had grown hard and throbbing. He wanted to drive it into her slick, virginal passage, but he would wait, savoring each moment.

  “That’s better,” he said. “I want to see what I’ve captured.” He reached out and drew one firm breast from the neck of her gown. “Lovely,” he said as she tried futilely to cover herself. “I’ll see all of you before we’re done here,” he said, “so trying to hide your luscious body is of no use.”

  She wept then, but he felt no sorrow. He’d show her the best fucking ever, and she’d be better for it. Or not. But he’d enjoy himself and that was really all that mattered. He leaned over and pressed his lips to hers. She slapped him. Hard. Then she ran her nails down his cheek.

  “Enough of that,” he growled, grabbing her wrist and bringing it around behind her. He grabbed a second piece of rope and tied her free arm to the far side of his bed. Now, with arms spread, she was helpless. She twisted and wriggled but soon realized that her struggles were useless. She closed her eyes, tears slowly leaking from the corners.

  “Oh, don’t cry,” he crooned. “This wil
l be really good, and you’ll soon see how much you’ve missed.”

  “You’re a horrid beast, and I look forward to the time when my father has you trussed up and whipped.”

  “Look forward to it all you like, but for now, you’re in no position to do anything to speed up that process.”

  She turned her face to the wall, refusing to look at him. Her loss, he thought. He went to his desk and found a sharp knife. Returning to the side of the bed, he said, “Now, this is very sharp, and I wouldn’t want to injure your beautiful skin. Hold very still.”

  “W-w-what are you going to do?”

  “I want to see you.” He removed her shoes, then starting at the hem of her dress, he sliced her skirt up the middle to the waist. Then he grabbed the bottom of her corset and sliced it and the bodice of the dress up the middle until the sides parted, leaving her covered only in her chemise, pantaloons, and hose.

  He stood and gazed at what he’d uncovered. Her skin was as lovely as he’d imagined, china white and smooth. Her breasts full and ripe beneath the remaining thin layer of fabric. Through the silk of her pantaloons, he could see the dark triangle at the tops of her thighs. He used his fingers to easily delve beneath the legs of her pantaloons to find the tops of her stockings and slowly, leisurely rolled them down.

  When he stroked the arch of her foot, she kicked out at him, catching him lightly on the chest. “That will never do,” he said. “You really must not struggle.”

  She kicked harder, pounding her heels onto the bed. “You’ll hurt yourself that way.” He rummaged in his closet and found a piece of soft cord, which he cut in half with the knife. Then he efficiently tied each ankle to the footboard of the bed. She was now truly helpless, open for him.

  “I’m really sorry I had to do that,” he said, not sure whether he was sorry or not.

  She sputtered, “I am a lady, and thus I can’t think of any words vile enough for you.”