Fifty Shades of Lexi Maxxwell

by Lexi Maxxwell

  “Did you ever see the neighbors?” Autumn asked. “Or know who they were?”

  Celeste shook her head. “No idea, but I’m curious as hell. Dude’s paying a lot of money to piss off whoever’s on the other side of that wall. I’ve been there four times before, but have never actually seen the neighbors. I’m sure he’ll call back. And I’ll stay on the lookout.”

  Brooke said, “Didn’t you do a bachelor party? Surely that’s a better story?”

  “Look who’s talking,” Autumn said. “Didn’t you have a story about Richie Rich and Richie Regina and how you were in the middle of their sandwich?”

  Brooke laughed, spitting water as she did. “Oh, that’s right. I definitely have to talk about that. But we should let Celeste and Sophia finish first.” She turned to Celeste. “So is your bachelor party story any better?”

  “Maybe,” Celeste said. “But there’s nothing curious about it. It was just boys being boys and getting all their little boys all over me! If you really want to hear the story, I’ll tell it after Sophia finishes hers. But you have to promise not to get jealous.”

  It was Sophia’s turn, but she still didn’t want to tell a story. She said the only story worth telling wasn’t very sexy at all. Celeste pushed her harder than anyone else, until she finally said, “I’m in love with a client.”

  The table gasped, then Sophia told them all about Robert.

  After another three rounds of drinks and increasingly raw conversation, Autumn said, “Fuck it. I’m starting a blog and writing a book, and you’re all in it!”

  XXX

  LEXI MAXWELL’S TALKING DIRTY SERIES

  CUMPILATION 1:

  BOOKS 1-4

  ***WARNING***

  First published by Lexi Maxxwell, 2012

  All rights reserved under the international and Pan-American Copyright Conventions.

  No part of this eBook may be reproduced or transmitted in any form, without written permission from the publisher. Excerpts may be used for the purposes of review.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are the product of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  This is a work of erotic fiction and contains GRAPHIC DEPICTIONS OF SEX, WHICH MAY OFFEND SOME AUDIENCES. This book is meant for MATURE AUDIENCES AGED 18 OR OLDER (or whatever the local laws are in your area). All sexually active characters in this work are 18 years of age or older.

  Copyright © Lexi Maxxwell 2012

  “Confessions of a Slutty Girlfriend”

  (After a sloppy handjob that covers the couch, and Autumn, with cum, she confesses to her boyfriend Sam that she wants to publish all her filthy, nasty stories. He doesn’t like the idea, until she tells him what she’s going to say and how she’s going to say it. Then fills her mouth with his cum to start a brand new story.)

  Handjobs were a bit high school, but Sam loved it when he covered my hand in cum anyway. He loved fucking me, of course, and loved it when I swallowed his dick long enough to guzzle his cum, but there was something innocent about a handjob that got him off and blasting it big. Probably the same high school thing that made him want to cum on my tummy instead of my tits, which he did a couple times a week.

  The only thing I like better than getting exactly what I want from my man, is giving my man exactly what he wants.

  I’d been stroking Sam for a few minutes, nice and slow, long motions up and down, but holding it like it was an oar in white water, when he said, “Take off your shirt.”

  I smiled and slipped my lips over the head of his dick so he wouldn't be deprived from a moment of action as I pulled my top over my head, then reached behind me to unfasten my bra. I let it drop to the floor so Sam could stare at my smallish C, but still outstanding tits while I stroked his cock to a spit.

  Sam’s dick plopped from my mouth and I grabbed it by the base, giving it one final, long lap from my tongue, with a twisty at the top, before I started jerking it up and down, tightening my grip every few strokes.

  “I want you to shoot your load,” I said. “I can’t wait to feel your hot, sticky cum all over my hands. I want to rub it on my tits and into my nipples.” I started stroking faster. “You don’t think I could get pregnant if I took a handful of your cum and shoved it up my cunt, do you?”

  “You’re on the pill,” Sam said from somewhere behind a wall of moaning.

  I giggled. “Oh, that’s right.” I stroked faster. “That’s okay, I think I’ll just rub it all over my tits, maybe my face.” I squealed just like I had the greatest idea. “Ooh! If you make me an extra big load, I can rub some on my asshole, too!”

  Sam’s moaning was growing heavier and heavier, and his dick fatter and fatter.

  “You love my titties, don’t you Sam?”

  “Yes,” he moaned. “You have amazing tits!”

  “How about my lips? Do you love my lips, too?”

  “YES! I LOVE your lips. You have amazing lips!”

  “Then why don’t you want me to put them on your cock?” I pouted.

  “I do,” he panted, “I do.”

  I pointed at my naked chest with the hand that wasn’t jacking him off. “You mean, you want me to suck your dick? Why, Sammy? Just so you can cum in my mouth?”

  Huuuhuuuuhuuuuhuuu

  Sam was starting to lose it.

  “I don’t know,” I shook my head, showering the tip of his dick with the ends of my hair. “You seem to be enjoying this so, SO much? Are you sure I should stop?”

  I laughed sweetly as Sam nodded, then shook his head, then nodded again.

  He was at a boil. I could feel him swelling at the base as his balls contracted. I gave Sam a hot, wet kiss on his head, then looked him in the eye and opened my mouth in a wide smile. “You have an amazing dick, Sam. It’s my favorite dick in the whole world. You know that, don’t you?”

  He whimpered something that sounded like, “Yes.”

  “There is no other man for me, Sam. You’re it. You know that, right?”

  Sam whimpered something that sounded like, “Of course.”

  “There’s my history, and you. Nothing’s more important than you, okay?

  Sam whimpered something that sounded like, “Shut the fuck up and make me explode.” Even if that wasn’t what he said, it was definitely what I was going to do.

  I pursed my lips and swallowed the length of his shaft, deepthroating until I felt the tip of his dick tickle the wall of my throat. He throbbed three times in quick succession, the first blast shooting from his cock and down my throat, slapping the spot he’d tickled a moment before. I swallowed like a good girl, then pulled his pecker from my mouth and let it blast me like a fire hose.

  Oh, I fucking LOVE this part!

  The next shot slapped my face, landing between the eyes before it oozed down the side of my nose toward my chin. I lowered his cock and the blasts splattered across my tits. He sputtered another three shots, shorter and globbier than the first three. I even got one on my tummy, just above my belly button, which sent Sam into a sound that was more groan than moan.

  I milked every drop from Sam’s dick, then slowly lapped it up with a smile.

  “I love you,” he said, with barely the breath to say it.

  “I love you, too.” I cleaned myself off, put my shirt back on, then said, “We need to talk.”

  Sam’s eyes grew wide. “What did I do?”

  “Nothing,” I laughed. “You didn’t do anything. You’re as perfect as you were yesterday, and slightly less than tomorrow. But I do want to talk to you about something serious.”

  Sam pulled his pants up and leaned back on the couch. “You’re not joining the Peace Corp, are you.” He smiled. His eyes danced at the edge of fear, like he was scared he was about to lose me in some way. Nothing was further from the truth, and I’d never loved him more.

  “I want to write,” I said.

  “That�
�s great,” he said. “You’re an awesome writer.”

  “I mean professionally, starting now.”

  “You’re going to give up the phone sex job?”

  My friend Brooke had gotten me a job working phone sex, after she left to become an escort. I’m great with my mouth in every way that matters, and thought it would be fun. It’s not. For the most part, it’s boring. But I’m good at keeping guys on the phone long enough to boost my average. I’m making more than .40 cents a minute, a hell of a lot more than I could make doing just about any other job with my qualifications. I’m not fucking for money.

  Even though my sister and best friend Brooke are both escorts, I’ll never go there. I love Sam with all my heart, and did enough shit behind his back in the first month of our relationship. I am proudly a slut, even if I’m a monogamous slut, only with Sam. But I’m not a whore. Not now, not ever. The day I get paid for pussy, I’ll crawl in a dumpster of morals and get ready to die.

  Sam was bothered by the phone sex job at first, but cool enough to act like it didn’t really matter. He got used to it quick, especially when I started coming home with hysterical stories. Plus, I could pay for us wherever we went somewhere, not to mention we’d started having tons of phone sex, too.

  “No, I’ll keep the phone sex job for sure,” I said. “Good money and great writing material.”

  “Are you going to sell your stories?”

  “Definitely,” I said. “Though not at first. I have to start by writing some, then I’ll start a blog. After I build a following, I’ll put the stories on Amazon.”

  “Are you going to get a publisher?”

  “I don’t need one. Anyone can publish to Amazon. I’ll need an editor, but I can pay for that with my phone sex money.” I was playing with Sam’s hair, just the way he liked.

  “Those books are crap,” he said. “I downloaded like 40 the day I got my Kindle. Self-published means free or .99, usually with a shit cover. I tried the first five or six, then deleted the rest.”

  I looked at him like he told me I was fat. He looked at me like he was sorry. “I don’t mean you can’t do it, I just mean there’s a ton of crap. I know you’re good, but how do other people?” He added, “And do you know how many copies you have to sell at .99 to make any money?”

  “A shit heap,” I said. “So I better get started writing!”

  I was doing it with or without Sam’s blessing, but didn’t like the concern creeping up at the corner of his face. “You have nothing to worry about,” I said. “I can do this. Those crappy books you’re talking about may be all over Amazon, that doesn’t mean their authors are making any money. But a shit heap of authors are. .99 is practically free, and no, I’m not going to get rich from a few downloads, but I can grow my reputation as a writer. If people like my shit, and leave good reviews and tell their friends, I’ll get fans. If I get more fans with each book I write, I’ll constantly make more money.” I held Sam’s eyes to drive a point. “What if I could make enough money in the next year before finishing school that I could write full time when we graduate?”

  The doubt looked like it was about to swallow his face.

  “You’re talking about writing books and selling them for .99, and hoping you sell enough to make more money than a 9-5? What happened to being a teacher?”

  “I’d rather write. And I don’t think I’m explaining myself well. I’m not talking about writing full books here. That’s not what people want to read anyway. Not the type of stuff I’m thinking of writing.”

  “What type of stuff is that?”

  I looked at him like he had four heads and two were purple. “Smut, of course!”

  He rolled his eyes. “What’s wrong with that?” I threw a pillow at him. 54% of trade paperbacks are romance novels. It’s what people like to read, even if they don’t admit it. eReaders make it easy since no one can see what you’re reading, and since people are usually looking for a single serving fantasy, a “book” doesn’t need to be what it’s always needed to be. I can tell one story, then sell that story for .99. I love talking dirty, so why can’t I write dirty and make a living on it?”

  “Why do you have to talk dirty?”

  “Because it makes girls glisten and guys wanna glob a blob from their bottom basher. Because I love making people feel, and there’s no better place to make people feel than the place where they came from. It doesn’t matter if you’re eating from a trashcan or planning a party for the Duke of Fancypants, you were born from baby batter, shot from a cock, then dropped from a spread eagled pussy nine months later.”

  “Jesus Christ, Autumn.”

  “I’m not trying to be insensitive. Maybe I’ll get dainty after I pop out a couple of kids. But I sure hope the fuck not. This world is too uptight already without me putting on the uniform and marching in step. Sex is sex. We all do it, or wish we could do it a whole hell of a lot more than we do. Unless your dead inside. And if you’re dead inside, you may as well be dead on the outside, too. If more people acknowledged sex as the human need it is, instead of the sin it isn’t, the world would be a much better place, even if it was a little stickier. If I’m great at my job, readers will want to fuck their partner’s faces off. Because that’s part of what life is about.”

  Sam didn’t say anything for a few minutes until he finally asked me what sort of stories I wanted to tell, made up or memoir.

  “I’d love to write fiction, but I figure I’ll start with my own stories. I have plenty.”

  “I hate the idea,” he said. “But I love you, so go on.”

  “I already have more stories than I could possibly write. Shit, off the top of my head I could write about the first time I had a threesome, spring break last year, any one of the times I fucked Professor Chambers, the phone sex job, OH! – muff munching with Melissa – that’s a good one. And those are just first person. I could tell stories about my slutty sister Celeste and her merry band of escorts. Seriously, Sam, I’m in college and surrounded by horny sluts and professional fuck toys. My stories will never, ever end.”

  “Are you going to write about me?”

  “Well, of course! But only if you want me to.”

  “What would you write about?”

  “It could be anything,” I could write about the time I came over and gave you that cock rocking blowjob and we officially became an item, or maybe last Valentine’s Day.” Sam blushed at the memory. “Hell, this could be a story right now.”

  He raised his eyebrows. “This isn’t much of a story.”

  “Bullshit,” I said. “Everything is a story. It’s all in how you tell it. You start with sex, then you develop the story so you can care about the characters, then more sex. So if I were telling this story, I’d start with talking about how much you love it when I jack you off, then I would write about how I’m actually jacking you off. You tell me to take off my shirt so you can look at my tits, etc.”

  “And that’s the whole story?”

  “Well, no,” I said. Then I’d probably move into this part here, where I’m explaining what I want to do, and how I want to write my stories and all that.”

  Sam shook his head. “It doesn’t sound like there’s enough sex.”

  “Well, you’re right. But only about the first one. It’s like a pilot. I have to explain what the reader can expect in the rest of the series. All the stories after the first one will be chock full of nasty.” I laughed. “The most important thing is to be myself and write like I talk and use language that gets my reader hot.”

  I moved closer to Sam. “See,” I said, pointing at the tent in his pants and smiling, “It’s already working.” He blushed again. “I’d write about how I started talking dirty, telling you I wanted you to shoot your load, so I could feel your hot, sticky cum all over my hands and rub it on my tits. I’d describe the entire scene, all the way until I told you that you had an amazing dick before you blasted me like a fire hose, splattering me from face to tits to tummy.”

 
Sam pulled his rock hard cock from his pants. “Look what you did to me,” he said.

  “Well, isn’t that a shame,” I cooed, crawling on top of him.

  “Are you going to take care of me?”

  “Don’t I always?” I lowered my head and kissed the tip of his dick.

  “Better than anyone ever has or ever could.” he was already moaning.

  “If you cum in my mouth, can I write about it later?”

  He moaned something, not sure what, but I think it was, “Talk dirty to me.”

  XXX

  “Spring Break Threesome”

  (Autumn Cole travels down to Mexico for Spring Break, but that’s not all she goes down on. Sloppy drunk and totally horny, Autumn ends up almost muff munching one of her best friends after finger fucking herself to a sloshy sop, before falling into her first ever threesome and getting covered in cum.)

  The first and only time I went to Mexico was spring break my sophomore year. I was looking for kick ass Mexican food, ridiculous amounts of sex, and a break from the usual dudes I’d been rotating back home. I wanted to find someone to fuck me hard, then leave my life so I’d never have to see them again.

  I had no idea I’d end up in my first ever threesome, with pussy all over my face, competing to catch the cumshot.

  There were 10 of us total, split into two rooms, boys and girls. Despite the five dicks, there wasn’t one I especially wanted inside me. Two were spoken for, one reminded me of my cousin, Kelly, and the other two I’d hooked up with a few times before. I figured if I couldn’t find any worthy cock in the bar, I could always get it back in the room. It was a last resort for sure.