by Various
I nodded and lay my head on her breast, falling instantly into a deep dreamless sleep.
Something changed between Daniel and I after that night. I don’t know if it was a good something or a bad something, things were just different. When Rob or Joy wanted sex with one of us we obediently trotted over. The weeks passed and we began swapping with the other couples until there was no one in the community that one of us hadn’t had sex with. The weather started to get colder but the talk of moving south disappeared.
Then on one of the days when the wind was blowing extra bitterly Daniel kissed me and told me he wanted to move on.
‘Why?’
‘I want it to be the two of us again. I want to be lonely together.’
I nodded, understanding without understanding.
They tried to talk us out of it, they cried as they watched us packing, but gave us more and more supplies until we couldn’t fit them into the car. I don’t know if they carried on crying when we drove off, I didn’t look back and neither did Daniel.
We live hand to mouth, mouth to hand. Daniel says he’s happier, he only wants me. Sometimes I say it was easier in the group, but mostly I kneel in front of him sucking his cock.
Yesterday he asked me if I wanted him to spank me.
‘It wouldn’t be the same,’ I said.
He nodded and we made love facing each other our limbs entwined.
‘We’re doing well, aren’t we?’ he said.
‘Yes, we are,’ I said squeezing my sex around his. ‘We’re still alive.’
The Untouchable Tabby
by Lana Fox
I was her student at college when we first met, and the way she fixed me with that sky-blue gaze I thought I saw whole worlds there. When she laughed, she did so lightly, as if she hadn’t a care, and I alone could see the sadness in her face. ‘Tabby is such fun,’ the other girls would chime. ‘The way she talks! What a cutie.’ But sensing Tabby’s wounds, I believed she ran far deeper. Like my father before he divorced my mum, Tabby possessed a kind of blackness, and this pulsed behind her flirtations in a low, sad beat. In her quirky pageboy caps and skinny, ribbed tops, which barely covered her pale breasts, she would scrawl spider diagrams on the board, calling, ‘Come on, darlings! More!’ and I always imagined her gasping those words in bed, and the thought would make me writhe in my seat. ‘Read the next paragraph,’ she’d tell me, with a cheeky wink, and I’d hear the others whispering, ‘Why does she always choose Val?’
Many years later, when I was home visiting my father, I bumped into Tabby in the post office queue. She was mailing a bright parcel with coloured balloons all over it – a birthday present for her niece, she said. Her hair, still short and curly, had gone from brown to cherub-blonde, and she wore black-rimmed, mock-preppy glasses. The little, slender lines on her face betrayed her age – late 30s, I decided – but she was still covered in those sweet brown freckles, which covered her cheeks, nose and throat. She was sucking a sweet that smelt of cherries, and it bulged behind her cheek as I invited her to visit. ‘Watch out, peach,’ she said, laying her hand on my arm. Her fingertips were cool. ‘You might get what you ask for.’
A couple of months later I received the call. Tabby said she was going to a conference in London, and her train made a stop in Leicester where I lived. Might she visit and take me out to dinner? It just so happened, I had two free tickets for the theatre that night. When I told Tabby, she agreed to come along.
I met her at the station, looking radiant, in a pair of curly pigtails with an armful of red roses. On the train platform, as the throngs passed by, she thrust the scented flowers towards me and gave me a quick kiss. When we embraced like old friends, she felt so slender beneath her top, with her breasts pressing against my own. Now our teacher-student barriers were lifted, I assumed we’d screw like we longed to, and when, in the car on our way to mine, she leant in close and touched my thigh, whispering, ‘This is nice, isn’t it?’ I took it as a come-on.
Back at my basement flat we had to change in a hurry. The play was starting in an hour, and we’d follow that with dinner. My bondage friend, Ray, phoned while Tabby was changing. Ray had been my sex-buddy for months and was part of the play we were going to see. ‘What’s cooking with the teach?’ he asked.
‘Kiss on the mouth. Red roses. Groped my thigh.’
‘If that doesn’t spell fuck me,’ said Ray, ‘I’ll eat my own eyebrows.’
‘I’d say join us, but she might be kind of vanilla.’
‘She’s all yours, bad girl. Don’t torture her too hard.’
I went upstairs to use the bathroom, but paused on the landing outside. Tabby had left the door open and, with her back to me, was pulling a top over her head, while a pair of black, lace briefs cupped her tight freckled buttocks, the scalloped edge sinking seductively into the cleft. And dear mother of fuck, those thighs! Lean and glossy as if she’d rubbed herself with oil! There I stood, gobsmacked, in my little black number, thirsting to lick and grind ... and as if this wasn’t enough, when Tabby glanced back across her shoulder, smoothing the flared white dress about her hips, I saw no shock in her heavy-lidded eyes. Instead, she looked up with a sexy pout, and winked as she slammed the door, leaving a blast of tantalising scent.
In my room, I sent Ray a text. Caught her changing. She’s wearing lacy knickers.
He replied, Slut needs a spanking.
But for all my bravado, I sensed something wasn’t right. Don’t be silly, I told myself. You deserve this. Enjoy it. So I applied my own perfume, which Ray called bitch’s blend, dabbing my pulse points before spraying my auburn hair.
As I blew a kiss at the mirror, I jumped to see Tabby behind me. With her hair still in curly, blonde pigtails and her lips slicked with transparent gloss, she was wearing a Marilyn-style halter-neck dress, white, like the starlet’s, and plunging, revealing a lightly freckled cleavage. She looked so hot she made me catch my breath.
Leaning against my doorframe, she said, ‘Come on, sweetie. We’re late.’
In the auditorium, I hardly watched the play. Ray, who was the translator for folks who were deaf, was signing with his hands while mouthing the lines. His face, which had always been riotously expressive, seemed far more alive than the actors’, and the way he gestured with his hands made me remember how he smacked my naked buttocks once a week, or teased me with his fingertips as they slid around the edge of my slit.
The play was my favourite of Shakespeare’s Twelfth Night, but as time went on I became more taken with the way the light danced across Tabby’s face, glancing off the shiny lips and brightening the blue eyes. I was enchanted by her scent and the way she laughed, dropping back her head; yet when I laced my fingers through her own, she turned to me, alarmed, before pulling her hand away.
In the interval, as I handed her a G&T, she stared down into it, jingling the ice cubes. The entrance hall was so crowded with other drinkers that she couldn’t help but stand close. I received a text from Ray. How much touch? But I didn’t even reply. ‘So, Tabby,’ I said, with a gulp of my wine. ‘You’re not into women?’
She rolled her eyes behind her glasses. ‘I don’t do sex, full stop.’
‘But the way you dress and your body language ...’
Her expression grew sour. ‘You can rely on it too much, dear,’ she snipped, before knocking back her drink. When she lowered her glass, she told me she didn’t do intimacy, and pursing the gin from her lips, added, ‘Sharing’s overrated.’ I saw then that she’d been hurt by a lover – perhaps this accounted for the sadness I’d sensed when she taught me.
‘But you want sex,’ I tried. ‘And you want sex with me. It’d change us both. I’m not your student any more.’
She gave a hard laugh that softened to a smile, then stroked the hair from my face. ‘You’re right, dear,’ she said, ‘but I can’t, OK?’ Then a buzzer signalled the start of Act 2.
After the play was finished, Tabby went to the loo, so I gave Ray a call. ‘Beautiful
signing,’ I said.
He laughed. ‘Like you noticed! You were too busy stroking your teacher’s pussy.’
I told him about Tabby, how she wouldn’t let me touch her. ‘All the way through the second half, I didn’t even look at the play. I was too stunned that she’d brushed me off.’ It was true, I’d hardly seen the actors in their Shakespearian corsets – I’d been too busy gazing at Tabby’s freckled breasts, so delicately cupped by the halter-neck fabric, and imagining kissing those full glossed lips that would slide so perfectly over mine.
‘Shall I crash the party?’ said Ray.
I asked him to join us for dinner.
‘That poor woman needs seducing,’ he said. ‘Let’s give her the time of her life.’
I chose the restaurant: a tapas bar nearby. When I explained my friend was joining us, Tabby gave the tiniest pout as if I’d somehow abused her. By the time Ray arrived, we’d ordered champagne along with a medley of tiny bowls and platters. Roasted red peppers drizzled in oil, almond-stuffed dates wrapped in crispy bacon, chilli-fried shrimp, griddled halloumi cheese and hasselback potatoes, all brown and sweet. We ate from a glass-topped table with a candle at its centre, using our fingers to pick at the fare. Ray and I sat either side of Tabby on a curved bench that followed the line of the table. Her body language was prim at first, arms tight at her sides, but as the evening wore on she let us snuggle so close that our knees touched, and she even allowed Ray to feed her bacon-wrapped morsels. The first of these made her moan with pleasure, dropping back her head as she chewed.
I pressed my thigh against hers and said, ‘My turn. Feed me something.’
She watched me for a while, her blue eyes growing, her distrust grappling with the lust that swelled her pupils; then eventually she gave half a smile and chose a strip of roasted red pepper, which she placed on my tongue. I overacted entirely, falling back into the seat, massaging my breasts through the lycra as I groaned with enjoyment; beneath the table I reached between my legs massaging my own thigh as I let a droplet of oil escape from the side of my own mouth.
I could feel the burn of Tabby’s stare as Ray leant against her ear and whispered, ‘Lick it off.’
But the droplet ran down my chin and throat, and she didn’t move an inch. So Ray, in his brilliance, moved round my side of the bench, sitting right close to me, and licked from my tits up to my throat, catching the droplet on his tongue, before repeating the act with his hand on my thigh, his fingers gripping so hard that I felt a glorious shot of pain. ‘Fuck,’ he told me, ‘you’re a sexy little bitch.’
‘Feed me more,’ I gasped to Tabby, rolling my head her way.
I thought we’d snared her because her cheeks had flushed and she was sucking her finger as she stared at Ray’s seductions. He was now lowering my strap, licking across my shoulder; but before we could argue, Tabby was sidling away, snapping, ‘You’ve no right. I’m going to powder my nose.’
She spent the rest of the meal quietly eating, while Ray dangled his hand below my belly, fingering me through my silky briefs – sometimes smoothly, sometimes roughly – until I was so wet I couldn’t eat. Worried about Tabby, I tried not to show my pleasure, which made the whole scenario twice as hot. We ended up back at my place getting stoned in my bedroom, Tabby lying on her belly across my double bed, her prickliness slipping slowly away. I burned a sandalwood candle that gave the pot an exotic tinge, and lay on the rug with my head in Ray’s lap as we shared a joint. I stared up at his lively brown eyes, which made him look as if he were constantly amused.
Ray and I steered the conversation away from Twelfth Night and towards sexuality, but Tabby would have nothing of it. She continually brought us back to the present day, speaking of her teaching work, her neighbours and the art classes she enjoyed. But as the smoke took her, she began to lounge, rolling onto her back and laughing as Ray cracked jokes. ‘Silly boy,’ she told him, taking off her glasses. I was struck by her pretty face, so blue-eyed and innocent. ‘You’re worse than my students,’ she added.
‘I’m offended,’ I said, with a wry smile.
‘You shouldn’t be,’ she said, with a smoulder. Softening, she added, ‘You weren’t just any old student.’
Whoa! My jaw went slack.
‘Well?’ Ray asked Tabby. ‘What was Val like? Spill.’
Tabby rolled onto her front, her dress peeling upwards, the fabric gathering around her perfect thighs. Her whole expression was relaxed, playful, sleepy. With curls coming loose from her little blonde pigtails, she purred, ‘Val was the cleverest girl I ever taught.’
I glowed.
Ray laughed. ‘So how come she can’t use chopsticks?’
I slapped his arm.
‘Seriously,’ said Ray, reaching around my shoulders. ‘Val’s adorable as heck, and clever, but I can’t imagine she was much of a boffin!’
‘Don’t have to be a boffin to be smart,’ I said.
Tabby rolled onto her back so she was looking at us upside down, her pale cleavage exposed behind her jawline, as if one move might force those tight little breasts to just pop from the fabric, nipples and all. ‘She was dreamy,’ she said, taking a drag on her joint. Breathing out her smoke, she closed her eyes: ‘In that whole damn class, all I saw was Val.’
I grinned, setting my joint in the saucer at my side. ‘And all I saw was you,’ I said, softly.
‘So?’ Ray asked Val. ‘Why don’t you screw the girl?’
Tabby smoked thoughtfully for a while before giving her answer. When she did, her voice turned cool: ‘A cheating bitch called Layla.’
Ray and I exchanged a look, before he peeled away and crawled across to Tabby. Climbing up onto the bed, he grinned and tweaked one of her pigtails. She giggled, blue eyes glinting as he pulled in close. ‘I know a good cure for heartbreak,’ Ray said, fingers glossing the fabric between her breasts. ‘You’re a sweetie, you know? And hot as hell. And Val over there is besotted. And maybe I am too.’
Tabby’s eyes met his. She watched him for a while, then reached up and ruffled his hair. Smiling, she said, ‘Are you making a pass?’
Ray laughed. ‘We’re both making a pass.’
She stared at me, waiting. At last, she gave me a sultry wink. ‘OK,’ she said, smirking, ‘but only because I’m high.’
Happy as a birthday girl, I skipped across to the bed. When I was next to her, she said, ‘Kiss me.’ So I did. Her mouth was as yielding as I’d guessed: her lips, which tasted of cherry-flavoured gloss, slid across mine, and her tongue was lithe and gentle, tasting of the joint. We kept on going, opening our mouths on one another. I felt her fingers on my breast, kneading gently. She moaned. Then I ran my fingers through those soft little curls and touched her nape and the curve of her ass. She rolled onto her side, settling into the kiss, and now I was able to reach right beneath her skirt, my fingers brushing up those super-smooth thighs – I’d always known she’d be cool to the touch, like the insides of shells. When I drew away, I saw Ray reaching round her, pulling the fabric away from her breast. The sweetest, hardest roseate nipple lay gorgeously exposed. He rolled her onto her back, both of them smiling. ‘Naughty teacher,’ he told her. ‘No bra. How slutty.’ Then he began to lick Tabby’s perfect breast, and kept on going until it was glossed with saliva. I watched for a while, then joined in, running my tongue over her other tight little nipple, making her gasp and shiver. Ray, who was softly moaning as he licked, thrust his hand inside Tabby’s skirt and began to pleasure her with that wonder-touch of his. She arched, lips parting, and let out a sudden cry, her lips and lashes quivering, and said, ‘Oh God, it’s been so long!’ I felt her absently tugging at my hemline. ‘Take it off,’ she gasped, with a pleading look. ‘Oh, Val ... please.’
I didn’t need any encouragement. Beneath I was wearing silky briefs – pink, the colour Ray liked – with a matching bra that raised and rounded my tits.
As Ray began to bite Tabby’s nipple, she groaned, staring down at him, hand splayed on the back of his
head; when she focused again, she said, ‘Val, honey, let me touch you.’
On my knees, I shuffled closer, letting her run a free hand over me. She smelt of pricey scent I recognised – something dry by Calvin Klein. ‘My ex was never as pretty as you,’ she murmured, entranced by my body, ‘and never so clever either.’
Ray pulled back, so I lowered myself over her, and said, ‘If music be the food of love, we’re playing it, baby ...’ Then I dipped a hand inside her skirt and found those lacy briefs and the perfectly waxed pussy beneath. I started softly, then pushed my fingers right into her, making her cry out and grab fistfuls of the sheets. Her scent, her little moans, her slick little slit, her wetness sliding smoothly from inside her ... all of this from the teacher I’d once watched so keenly. I was so wet and enchanted that I couldn’t look away.
At last, I heard Ray unzipping, but didn’t expect him to crawl behind me, pull my panties aside and fill me with his cock. As I shivered with pleasure, he started fucking me hard, telling me I was a bad little girl who shouldn’t touch her teachers. My whole body jerked with Ray’s every thrust, and I knew I had to taste Tabby again, if only to feel the yielding of her sex. As I lowered my mouth to her, I glanced up her body: her lips were parted, covered in saliva and she was watching me from between her knees, her eyelids heavy. ‘Do it,’ she whispered. ‘Suck me.’
I was so aroused, I burned.
As I pressed my tongue to her slippery sex, tasting her, teasing the nib of her clit, Ray continued to slam himself into me. ‘Dirty girl,’ he told me, pushing my face into Tabby’s pussy and, turned on by his brutality, I licked and licked and licked. Tabby moaned so loudly, her sex gushing, thirstily. ‘Oh, baby,’ she cried out, ‘don’t ever fucking stop ...’
What I realised while I was going down on Tabby was how charged it felt. This wasn’t simply a fun-fuck. This was about recovery. Later, for instance, as Ray jerked off, watching me spank Tabby, while a thread of drool spilled from her lower lip, I realised we were purging that cruel lover she’d mentioned: the one who’d probably been hurting her while I was in her class and had sensed her pain. Now, she knelt on the sheets, gorgeous and naked, her freckled skin glossed with perspiration, and I knelt behind her, pulling down on her pigtails so she was forced to tip back her head. I loved controlling her and displaying her for Ray, who, with his jeans and boxers round his thighs, was jerking off opposite Tabby. His gaze was glued to her tits, and he soon began a crescendo of ‘Fuck, yes!’ reaching out with his free hand to maul her breast. Tabby laughed and cried, ‘Is he coming on me? Is he?’ And oh, it was so joyous an exclamation, that it made me burn. As Ray came all over those perfect breasts, the sound of his come spattering her skin, Tabby reached back into my wet pussy and I felt such pleasure at her wondrous, digging fingers that I came too – deep and hard – falling on her, with a cry.
