by Lynn, KT
Filthy Smut
Volume 3
KT Lynn
Harriet Lovelace
Stephanie Silvers
Alora Matisse
Cherise Kemps
Ellie Soap
Copyright © 2012
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
Copyright © 2012
All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Warning: This work contains scenes of graphic sexual nature and it is written for adults only(18+). All characters depicted in this story are over 18 years of age.
Also Available from the Same Authors:
Filthy Smut (Vol. 1): 37 Erotic Stories
Filthy Smut (Vol. 2): 33 Erotic Stories
Filthy Smut (Vol. 4): 35 Erotic Stories
Table of Contents
The City that Never Sleeps
The Patient
Enlightened
Too Hot to Handle
The Journalist: Part I - Darren
The Journalist: Part II - Angela
A Heated Stroll
Squirting Lessons
On the Boss’s Desk
School for Young Ladies
She Can Do It Better
Thieves’ Dilemma
The Slave of Pleasure
Paranormal Penance: Awakening
Paranormal Penance: Ravishing Revenge
Paranormal Penance: Free Time
Ski Trip
Passion on High Seas
Coed Seduction
Shaving Party
The Wealthy Client
The Mile High Club
The Bakery
Plundered at Sea
Dorm Games
Who is More Worthy?
Leashed in Public
Dormmate
The Audition
Taken by the Samurai
Rough Trade
Passion and Hysteria
Two Men in Her Life
Modeling for Liza
The Perfect Couple
Tender Explorations
Elena Shaved
[Blind Date with the Billionaire: Part III]
Elena Learns a Lesson
[Blind Date with the Billionaire: Part IV]
The City that Never Sleeps
by Stephanie Silvers
Themes: public sex; exhibitionism
“Pool Party Time!” the e-vite had said. In February, no less. But when you opened the link, you found that billiards, not swimming, was the main attraction- there was a goofy Photo-shopped illustration of smiling pool balls, even.
Trust Evangeline to go all cutesy with her twenty-first birthday. Her Sweet Sixteen had taken pink and shiny to new heights- or new lows, depending on your tastes. But I suppose if you want to drag everyone all the way out to Queens for a get together, you need to pour on the gimmicks.
Not that I should talk. Staten Island isn't that big of a prestige builder, address-wise. But in these trying times, none of my old Forest Hills gang had established themselves on the Upper East Side or anything. Life was nothing if not challenging, and a friend's twenty-first was something to celebrate- even if we'd all been clubbing with fake ID's for a few years now.
The party spot was actually pretty cool. The entire second floor of a good-sized building had been done up with pool and ping pong tables, several bars, comfy seating and giant-screen TVs. It was a neat place for a party- unlike some hot-stuff club where the music and crowd would have made conversation next to impossible, our old crowd could actually sit down together and get caught up on each other's lives.
The newest, most exciting part of my life, of course, was obvious. Michael. Blonde hair rippling over his shoulders, tight black old school Levis...everything about him had my high school buddies taking notice. And in some cases, drooling- but the wonderful part was, Michael's got a personality as charming as his hot good looks.
I'm not talking about surface charm, the kind any half-intelligent guy can fake. I'm talking about inner beauty, the kind where somebody actually has standards and lives up to them. Unlike many of the guys I'd met in my young life, Michael's cock is connected to his heart and even his brain. He's warm and funny and decent, and I still can't believe I found a guy so sweet- and sexy.
That's the other amazing thing. Underneath that civilized exterior, Michael is a horny beast with an untamed imagination. Every time we're together, my panties are perpetually wet. At work, I find myself slipping off into daydreams about what we did the night before, what we might do that night, or just the existence of his velvety-hard, awesome self.
I've never been so happy, or so well-fucked. Never knew the kind of pleasurable heights we climb together were even possible. People remark on how good I've been looking. If they only knew why.
At the party, after I'd had a little while to say my hellos to everyone and grab a drink, he took my hand and tugged gently. I followed him through the crowd and to the far end of the club, where he showed me his discovery- a short hallway leading to a small room that was used to store supplies and a coat-rack that looked to be for the staff.
“This is pretty private back here,” I remarked. He was grinning at me. “Yep,” he said, sliding his arms around my waist from behind. “May not be all decorated up, but-”
They say great minds think alike. I took his hands in mine and moved them down a little to rest on my lower tummy, just grazing my mound. I was wearing a mid-thigh mini and a thong, and when I pressed back against him, I could feel him stiffen inside the tight jeans. He slid his hands down my thighs to the hem of my skirt and slid it up almost to my crotch, massaging my inner thighs lightly.
I couldn't help grinding against him. If he'd wanted to bend me over and take my pussy right there, I would not have wanted to resist- but Michael was teasing, as he liked to do. “Not yet, my voracious tigress,” he chuckled, raising my skirt in the back so that my bottom was bared and smacking one cheek playfully. “We have to be good guests. We'd better get back out there and mingle.”
Reluctantly I stepped back and straightened my skirt. “Good guests could sneak back here again later, though,” I said.
“True. Why don't we do that in about a half hour? Meanwhile, I bet I can beat Anastasia at eight-ball.”
“Huh. I don't know. She's legendary.”
Back out in the lounge area that was occupied by our party group, Anastasia, Evangeline and Nicki were gathered in a tight, giggly knot, their arms around each other. “Lynn!” Nicki yelled. “Get your butt over here, girl, it's picture time!”
Michael peeled off to claim “next” on the pool table, and I went over and joined my old pals, putting my arm around Evy, grinning widely toward the girl holding up her camera phone. “Where have you been, hmmm?” Evy said in my ear. “And where'd you get him from? He's gorgeous, Lynnie!”
“I know,” I said, ignoring her questions. Evy was a little bit of a feather head for my taste, albeit kind hearted. If deep thoughts were money, she'd qualify for welfare. As it is, her father's trucking business pays her tabs, which may be why she's never had to develop a lot of deep thoughts, focusing her en
ergy mainly on sifting through the men she met for Someone Eligible. What-ever, as they say.
Michael was watching as we mugged for the camera, sticking our tongues out, posing flirtatiously. I winked at him. I knew how he loved seeing me have fun- and that he'd have one eye on the clock and be counting the minutes, as I was, until our planned rendezvous in that little back room.
Nicki and I grabbed beers and settled onto the couch as Michael hefted pool cues, carefully selecting one he liked, as his opponent racked up the balls. “He really is adorable, Lynn,” Nicki said. “And I love the way he looks at you, like you're his favorite flavor of ice cream.”
“He's my favorite flavor, that's for sure,” I told her. “We've been seeing each other for two months, and we haven't had a bad moment, really. I didn't know there were any guys like that.”
“Well, in high school, there weren't,” she observed. “Maybe the men our age are finally starting to grow up. Get seasoned.”
“Like a good soup? Or maybe age like fine wine.”
“Seriously. You're lucky,” she said. Michael was leaning over to make a long shot, providing us with a wonderful view of his firm ass in the tight black jeans. “I'll drink to that!” I said fervently, clicking my beer bottle against hers, and we laughed together.
Twenty minutes later, having demolished his first opponent, Michael graciously passed his winner's turn to Evy. “To the birthday girl,” he said with a flourish. I was the only one who knew he had ulterior motives. His mind was on another game entirely. Trying to act extremely casual, I excused myself from Nicki- much as I love her, my mind had been elsewhere for the past few minutes- and slipped through the crowd toward the back room.
Michael was waiting there for me, sitting on a low box. “Hi,” I said, giggling a little as I sank into his lap to kiss him. “Do you think-”
“Sssh,” he said. “Stand up.” He turned me to face him and raised my tight skirt over my thighs and up to my waist, planting a sweet warm kiss on my panties. “I'm hungry, and the hors d'oeuvres out there just aren't doing it.”
“Really...” I was trying to think of a witty comeback, but my thoughts scattered as he pulled my panties aside and sank his hot tongue into my slit, right at the top, going straight for my clit. I moaned and pulled his sweet silky head closer between my thighs, arching my back.
He could move that tongue almost like a vibrator, and I felt a gush of warm girl-juice soaking the crotch of my underwear. But as I started to grind my clit against his mouth, feeling as though I could come very soon indeed, he pulled away.
“Now, now,” he said, “we still have important social duties to discharge, do we not? Your friends won't think much of me if I monopolize you this whole time.” As he spoke, he slipped a finger up into my dripping vagina. I could scarcely comprehend what he was saying.
“They won't even notice,” I pouted. “Besides, they adore you already.” I was panting and riding his hand, and trying to twist myself down and get a chance to touch his crotch, try to get him hot enough to forget his blasted manners and take me right then and there.
He wouldn't allow it, although when he stood up, I could see by the bulge in his jeans that he was certainly turned on. “Time to go be adored some more, then,” he said.
Suddenly there were rapid footsteps in the hallway and a woman in a waitress uniform bustled in, heading straight toward a stack of boxes at the back of the room until she realized with a start that she was not alone. I was too shocked to have even straightened my clothing; my skirt was bunched around my waist, my moist crotch still half-exposed under disheveled panties.
“Oh!” she said. “Listen, kids, this is not a motel. Get your horny little asses back out to the bar before I call the manager and get you thrown outta here.”
“Sorry,” said Michael, somehow managing to sound dignified, as I hurriedly fixed my panties and skirt and noticed that the odor of my juices permeated the small, stuffy room. My cheeks felt hot as we scurried out the door and back down the hallway. I headed straight for the ladies' room and ducked into a stall, staying there long enough for my heart rate to normalize. Wiping myself after I peed, I felt a wave of erotic heat just from the touch of the thickly padded paper.
We had lost our hiding place. No way did I want to be booted from Evy's birthday party in disgrace for lewd and lascivious shenanigans. But that didn't stop Michael from giving me those long, private looks even across the room, or from cornering me briefly and trailing one finger between my legs under the pretense of a simple hug. I talked, I laughed, I played a game of ping-pong (which I lost by a truly horrendous margin) but through it all, most of my mind and all of my heart was with Michael, somewhere private.
It seemed like an eternity later that we said our good nights and headed out down the chilly, deserted street to the subway. The 7 train didn’t run too often this late, and we'd have to change to the W during the trip back to the ferry; by the time we got back out to Staten Island, it would be nearly dawn. But the party had been fun, and the wait for the train passed quickly as we talked about the people there.
When the subway squealed to a halt, Michael pulled me a couple of cars down the platform, away from the car with the sleeping drunk and another that held a couple, probably on their way home from partying like us. “I want you all to myself,” he said as we stepped into the empty car hand in hand and settled on a bench seat.
That was fine with me. I had been aching to get my hands on him. I stood and slipped my long, supple leather coat off . “Could you hold this?” I asked sweetly, laying it over his lap and slipping my hand down to his crotch beneath it. I sought and found the button on his jeans, undid it and groped for the zipper. Inside his shorts, his cock had already stiffened in response, and he pulled me into a kiss as the train gathered speed, hurtling us through the night, rocking us gently.
I teased the swollen head of his penis with the tips of my fingers and sucked his tongue into my mouth, lapping at it with mine. My meaning was unmistakable. He reached under the coat and unzipped his jeans further, adjusting his posture and allowing me to free his erection from his fly so that I could wrap my hand around it tight, and moaned deep in his throat when I gave it a squeeze.
I'd had four beers, and was just a tiny bit relaxed, and my mouth was watering for a taste of that glorious hard rod. I grinned at him and scooted over on the plastic bench seat so that I could lay my head on his thighs, letting him contemplate the possibilities of this while I continued to tease and toy with him with my fingers.
What the heck- nobody was going to interrupt us this late at night, I thought. I looked up into Michael's eyes and licked my lips, then buried my head under my coat and found the tip of his cock with my lips. I sucked it luxuriously, tenderly, and was rewarded by hearing him groan, feeling his hips shift. The train rocked gently, offering me a counterpoint rhythm, and his satiny hardness felt like a caress against my lips and tongue.
I love taking him into my mouth, and it shows. He can feel it. I was gobbling him wetly and eagerly when we felt the train begin to brake, and instead of sitting up and composing myself or pretending to be asleep in his lap, I took him deep into my throat and held him there, his hips bucking helplessly. Then, too suddenly it seemed, the wheels ground to a full stop and the pneumatic doors slid wide.
I was trapped, my face impaled on his rod, head buried under his leather jacket. Suddenly he grabbed my shoulder to hold me still. To my horror, I heard footsteps and drunken laughter as what sounded like a mob of fraternity brothers entered the car.
I was going to have to move my head a little just to breathe again. Might as well enjoy it. I moved back on his cock with excruciating, stealthy slowness, playing around it with my tongue as I did so, and I felt him shiver despite being nearly frozen with shock. Thankfully, the guys' voices faded slightly; I couldn't see, but could guess that they'd gone to the other end of the train car.
Sitting up now would be more likely to draw attention than staying put, so I concentra
ted my energies on giving Michael's shaft a silent tongue bath beneath the concealing coat. His efforts to shush me and keep me still were brief and half-hearted.
What if these characters were going all the way to our stop? How in the world would we wriggle out of this without making what we had been doing completely obvious? Not that they sounded like the type to do anything but laugh mercilessly at us if they did catch on, but that was not a prospect I relished. But somehow the precarious situation didn't bother me. Bother me? If anything, it was tripling the agitated tingle I always got in my pussy when Michael's cock was in my mouth.
The train slowed again; thankfully, when the doors slid open, I heard the mob depart. “Git some, brotha!” one yelled back from the platform, causing Michael to collapse laughing when the door closed again. Apparently they hadn't been as drunkenly oblivious as I'd thought.
The next stop was ours, so I came up for air and allowed Michael to fix his clothing. We held hands modestly for the rest of the short ride, changed trains, and more or less behaved ourselves for the twenty minutes we spent on the connecting train- I say more or less because Michael was whispering in my ear about exactly what he intended to do to my naked body at his earliest opportunity, which made me squirm a bit on the hard plastic seat.
By the time we finally got to the gleaming glass and metal and neon terminal for the ferry, I was in a dazed reverie of horny anticipation that felt like an altered state. My nipples ached, stiff inside of the satin bra; my thong panties were soaked. I was tingling all over; my pussy felt electrified, and I let Michael guide us onto the long, stately ferryboat, up a gangway and to the outside seats. A few tired-looking souls got on with us, but nobody else climbed to the upper deck.
