Burn Erotica

by Jade Stone

  He began to fuck my ass harder, slamming his cock in and out, and my ass found a life of its own as it gripped and swallowed his cock deep down inside it. With every thrust I cried out in both pleasure and pain as I lay with the side of my head on the towel as he pounded my ass behind me. Then my ass gripped his cock harder than ever, my whole body stiffening.

  I cried out as I began to shudder all over, my asshole convulsing all around his incredible cock as another anal orgasm hit me. His hands gripped my ass harder, and I felt him stiffen behind me. Eduardo let out a huge growl then his cock exploded inside my ass, his balls pulsating against my cunt. We were both motionless for a few seconds, panting hard. He finally pulled his cock out of my ass. I collapsed sideways onto the towel, and he fell down next to me.

  “Oh my God,” I said again, I didn’t know what else to say. But I knew what I had to ask. “Where did you learn to do all that?” I exclaimed.

  Eduardo grinned. “Back in Portugal, my mom had a friend, who had a pool...”

  I stared at him, then laughed. Now it made sense, only an older woman could teach a younger man to pleasure a woman like that.

  In a week I would be flying home, but I’d just decided I would be moving back to my home town very soon.

  I just needed to find a place with a pool.

  Strawberry Punch

  International business travel is always exciting when you first start doing it, especially the part where you don’t have to pay for it. But after about three years it becomes a drag, and after fifteen years, it’s a real drag. Especially when you’ve got a wife at home like I’ve got.

  Cherie is my second wife, and until I met her, I didn’t actually know marriage could be so, well, good. Really good. Amazing, actually. I have the perfect woman in every way. As for looks, imagine Dita von Teese, but even hotter than that. That’s the woman I’m married to. The best part—she loves being fucked by me. Anytime. Anywhere. Everywhere.

  But right now, I’m stuck on a flight from Hong Kong with a bunch of douche bag IT executives, including Ted, my drone of a boss.

  “What you buying for Cherie from the duty free?” he asks, like it’s any of his damn business what I buy my wife.

  “Couple of bottles of the best stuff,” I reply.

  I’ll call Cherie when I’m in the shop and see if she wants anything. I’ll buy that woman whatever the fuck she wants.

  “What are you buying for Susan?” I ask Ted out of politeness.

  “Fuck, I can’t remember,” Ted snorts. “She gave me a list, I gave it to Melissa; she’ll text it to me.”

  Ted has two women who think for him—Susan, his wife, and Mel, his PA. I think they even find his ass in the dark and hand it to him. He’s fifty-seven and grossly overweight. Ted wants to fuck Mel but as they say, dreams are free. He fucks Susan sometimes but he doesn’t like it much, and I’ve no doubt the feeling is mutual. I know he definitely beats off thinking about my wife.

  I’ve been stuck with this fool for ten days.

  “So, Cherie will have a cherry pie or somethin’ waitin’ for ya, eh?”

  The fool has been drinking too much again; I can smell it from where I sit. I pretend to be asleep.

  I think of my wife, her perfectly manicured red fingernails at the end of her perfect slender white hand, wrapped around my cock. Her hand leading my swollen cock to her perfect crimson mouth. I feel my cock start to twitch; I quickly think of football. I don’t want these clowns telling everyone at work I got a hard-on in the plane.

  Cherie is thirty-six and I met her five years ago, in the apartment building where we lived; yeah, we were neighbours. She was a chef at a leading restaurant. Not just any chef either. She’s won awards and she has a top selling line of cookbooks. She left her job at the restaurant about six months ago to concentrate more on her books. Somehow I married a woman who looks like Dita von Teese, cooks like Nigella Lawson and fucks like Jenna Jameson. I suppress a smile to myself, yes, such a woman exists—and she’s married to me.

  When she was my neighbour she was married, and I was married. Her husband was a chef as well; he worked really long hours. Because he could cook, too, he didn’t appreciate Cherie’s skills; he even told her that her food was shit. My ex-wife was a vet who liked animals more than people, especially more than her husband. One night after one of many rows, I left our apartment and had a cigarette out back. I’d recently taken up smoking again, mostly as an excuse to leave the house when she was being a bitch, which seemed to be happening more and more often.

  I’d noticed the stunning woman next door and I’d heard the way her husband spoke to her, like she was a dog. He and my ex would’ve been perfect for each other.

  Cherie had seen me smoking downstairs more than once, and this time she followed me and asked for a cigarette. She’d heard us fighting. We didn’t discuss it, we both knew about each other’s situations. She asked if I wanted to come in and have some of the dinner she’d cooked—the dinner her husband said tasted like shit. Hell, this lady could’ve offered me a piece of dry toast and I would’ve thought it was great. I couldn’t even remember the last time my ex and I ate a meal together.

  We went to Cherie’s apartment for dinner, and I say without bias, it was the best food I’d ever eaten. I’d had no intention of moving in on another man’s wife, especially in his house, but when Cherie leaned over and kissed me, it was all on. I fucked her right there on the table.

  The next week we both moved out of our respective apartments and in with each other. I know it sounds cliché, but when you know, you know. We’ve been together ever since, and we got married as soon as our divorces came through.

  Cherie gives the best head I’ve ever had, and she loves being fucked in the ass. Her ex could never get hard enough to give it to her in the ass, and the loser refused to take Viagra. My ex hated giving blowjobs. As for anal, I never dared bring that up.

  I start to get hard again thinking about Cherie’s beautiful creamy round ass. Her luscious pink asshole twitching when she’s bent in front of me, getting ready to take my cock deep inside it. I put a newspaper over my lap.

  The pilot announces landing is thirty minutes away. Thank fuck for that. Any more time in the ass of this aeroplane, I’m gonna go insane.

  When we land, I ditch my colleagues and call Cherie. I ask her how her day has gone. She tells me she’s made a four-course dinner for me and four of our friends tonight. I hope she doesn’t hear the disappointment in my voice. I don’t wanna go home and eat with other people, I wanna go home and eat my wife’s pussy out.

  Then she tells me she’s waxed her pussy today. No hair she says, from the eyebrows down. Damn! She’s made a strawberry punch, she tells me. But one strawberry got lost. Her breathing is now really heavy. It’s in my pussy, she says. You need to come home and help me get it out, before our guests arrive.

  Other people are now filing in around me. “Do you want anything duty free?” I croak.

  “No,” she replies. “Just come home. Now.”

  I was gonna get myself a bottle of whisky, but that’ll have to wait for another day.

  I race through customs and grab the first cab home. The thirty minute ride feels like two hours. The driver keeps trying to make small talk, but I’m a bit distracted.

  As soon as I get in the door I can hear Cherie on the phone. I follow her voice. My hard on is now bulging through my pants. When she sees me, she mouths hello, and I stand watching her as she leans against the table top, talking into the receiver. Cherie digs the vintage look, today she’s wearing a stunning red dress and black stilettos, similar to what Marilyn Monroe would’ve worn. She’s also wearing skin coloured stockings, my cock gets even harder knowing she’s got suspenders holding them up. And that smooth pussy is waiting at the top.

  Her makeup is perfect, she looks about to grace the red carpet or something. She smiles that sultry Dita von Teese smile as she sees my hard on pointing at her. I want to drop my pants and stroke myself but it will be
worth it if I wait for her to do it. I can tell by her words she’s speaking to her publicist, and it doesn’t sound like the conversation is going to end soon. Damn. As usual she has a perfect spread prepared on the table, I go to grab a glass of strawberry punch, and she smacks my hand away. I sit at the table like a good boy. I am forty years old and I am hornier now than I was when I was fifteen.

  Suddenly Cherie tells her publicist she can’t hear him.

  “Sorry, Bill, what was that? I can’t hear you, there’s something wrong with the line.”

  I smirk, I know there’s nothing wrong with the line.

  “I’m sorry, I’ll have to call you back.”

  Cherie hangs up the phone. We look at each other. Then I am on her. Her mouth tastes like strawberries.

  “Oh my God, I’ve missed you so much,” she gasps as I drop my head down to her neck.

  I don’t mean to be rude, but I can only grunt in reply as I kiss and suck her smooth flawless skin. I pull down the straps of her dress and bra and her beautiful creamy breasts spill out over her dress. I take a raspberry nipple in my mouth and suck hard on it. Cherie has the most amazing double-D cup tits.

  She goes for my belt, but I’ve already dropped to my knees. I push her ass against the table and hoist her on top of it. I hear some glasses fall over, luckily she doesn’t seem to care. I push up her dress and spread her thighs. I was expecting to have to rip off some underwear, but to my delight she isn’t wearing any. Her hairless pussy stares back at me, wet and waiting. And inside is a strawberry with my name on it. I pull her into me and sink my tongue into her pink folds. Cherie moans with pleasure. Oh my God, I never get tired of eating her pussy, it is the most delicious thing to have ever touched my taste buds.

  I reach my hands around and place them on her stomach, stretching her pussy up as I swirl my tongue all over her folds. The soft pink skin begins to throb under my tongue. Cherie runs her fingers through my hair as I suck on her clit, circling my tongue around it. It swells in my mouth. Her fingers start to dig into my scalp.

  “Oh my God, Chris...” she moans.

  I move my tongue back down to her hole and tongue fuck her. I can feel something against my tongue. It is the strawberry she promised me. Cherie clenches her pelvic muscles and the strawberry pops into my mouth. I chew it down. The best tasting strawberry I’ve ever eaten.

  Her wetness has dripped into her ass crack. I move my hands down and part her ass cheeks, and then slide my tongue between them. Cherie has the prettiest pink asshole, and she loves it when I eat it. And I love eating it. She also returns the favour sometimes—the only woman I’ve ever been with who does that. But my favourite way to eat Cherie’s asshole is to have her face down. I flip her over so she is bent over the table, ass in the air. I spread her cheeks again, her asshole shines with her pussy juice and my saliva. I sink my tongue back into it, rimming it all around. I hold Cherie’s ass cheeks firmly apart as she moans and writhes on the table.

  I start fucking her asshole with my tongue, pushing it in as far as it can go, in and out, in and out. The pink cavity starts to convulse around my tongue. But I don’t want her to come just yet. I get to my feet and start to undo my pants. But Cherie beats me to it. She has moved off the table and dropped to her knees in front of me, her dress still half way around her waist. Her red lipstick is smeared from my mouth being on hers. She looks up at me with doe eyes as she undoes my belt and pulls down my trousers. My bulging cock springs out in front of her face. She grabs it and rubs it down, then starts licking the tip, still looking at me. I have to look up at the ceiling, otherwise I’m gonna come too soon.

  I feel her take me into her mouth, right to the back of her throat. Oh my God, this woman is a goddess. She sucks it hard, still whacking me off me at the base, her tongue flicking all over the tip. I hold her head as she sucks harder, I take a deep breath and exhale, oh man I am gonna explode. I gently pull her hair back. “Baby, lets fuck,” I gasp.

  She looks up at me, still with her mouth full of my cock. Now her lipstick is really smeared, she looks more beautiful than ever. Then she smiles and releases me.

  We aren’t gonna make it to the bedroom. Cherie gets on her hands and knees and bends in front of me on the carpet. I must have unbuttoned my shirt at some point, I rip it off and kneel behind her. Her red dress is still stuck around her waist. I pull it over her head and toss it aside, then I rip off her suspenders, stockings and garter. Now she is completely naked on our dining room floor, her face in our expensive Persian rug, her pussy and ass presented to me. My swollen dick is covered in her red lipstick. I grab her around the ass and slam my raging hard dick into her wet pussy. Cherie cries out as it goes in.

  “Sorry, baby,” I pant.

  “It’s okay, it’s a good pain,” she pants back.

  Cherie’s tight pussy grips my cock as I slam it in and out. Her pussy gets wetter and wetter as she cries out every time I slam my cock in. She sticks her ass up higher by lowering her back. Her pink asshole twitches away.

  I wasn’t sure if I’d have time to fuck her in all three holes before our guests arrive, but its gonna have to happen that way.

  Cherie is now so wet she doesn’t need lube for her ass. I take my cock out of her pussy, and she shifts her weight so her ass is right where it needs to be. I have already opened up her asshole by fucking it with my tongue, now it is ready to be fucked for real.

  My dick is dripping wet with her pussy juice, so I put the head at the opening of her ass. I take her up the ass regularly, but I still need to be careful every time I enter it. I nudge the head of my cock forward, and her asshole accepts it. I edge it in some more, and some more, bit by bit, until my cock is all the way in. I let out a groan; this feels amazing. Cherie moans, too, as my shaft swells even bigger and harder inside her ass, widening her tight hole. Cherie clenches her ass muscles around my dick, sucking my dick down deep inside her.

  “Pound my ass, baby,” she pants.

  I pound her ass, alright. After ten days away from her, I fuck it as though I’ve never fucked an ass before. Her ass muscles start to shudder around my cock. She loves this, and I’m gonna give her an orgasm in her ass, just the way she loves it. My dick gets even bigger and harder again, widening her ass even more.

  My balls start to really throb, I’m gonna come, now. I let out a roar as my dick explodes in her ass. My dick pulsates inside it as I blow a second load. Cherie’s asshole is now spasming around my dick, and she lets out several shrieks, then collapses, ass still in the air, with my cock inside it. She is gasping for breath as I collapse on top of her.

  She lies with the side of her face on the rug, her eyes closed, trying to catch her breath. I gently slide my cock out of her ass. She falls to her side and lies there panting for a bit. Then she turns around and lies on her back. She opens her eyes and looks at me. Her face flushed with colour, her big beautiful breasts spilled out over her chest, hard raspberry nipples pointing to the ceiling. She grins. “Welcome home, baby.”

  I lean over and give her a kiss on the mouth.

  “Our friends are gonna be here any moment,” she tells me. “I need to go get changed and do my make-up again. And you need to reset the table.”

  She gets up and leaves the room as I stand and do my pants back up.

  I look at the table and see two of the glasses have broken.

  My wife. What a legend.

  Under the Mistletoe

  Many people say they envy my position. Very few average citizens like me get to party with movie stars, film directors, rock stars, supermodels and high-flying millionaires. It comes with the job when you are nanny to the children of the stars. But it’s not all glamour and parties, it’s mostly damned hard work, especially when the parents are more difficult than the children. Like any job, it comes down to who you work for, and I’ve had more than my share of assholes.

  The booze, the drugs, the tantrums, the sexually deviant behaviour of the elite, sometimes I think I should just walk awa
y from this life and never return. Then I get another job, and things get better. Unfortunately, it usually turns out like the previous ones, most of these people are cut from the same cloth. It’s also me, I am the sort of person that attracts these people. I might only be thirty-two, quite young compared to many nannies, but being from the south of London I have a no nonsense attitude. Most of my clients like this about me, they think, here’s someone who won’t take shit from my kids, or myself, you’re hired.

  I have a set of rules for myself, one being that I will never allow the children to call me ‘mom,’ (it happens a lot), and another that I will never get romantically involved with a client. But despite this, I often get turned down for jobs, with no other reason given than I lack experience. It’s usually an excuse for wives who feel threatened. They don’t want their husbands around the pretty, long haired–and single–British Indian nanny, who’s better with her kids than she will ever be. So the result is the women who do hire me are usually so up themselves they think no one is better than they are, certainly not some lowly nanny. The fun never ends.

  But my job with a top Australian actor who made it in Hollywood was different. His name was Nathan. He and his wife hadn’t used nannies before; they preferred to bring up their kids themselves. Australians are different from the British and the Americans, they tend to be more down to earth, even when they come to the US. Nathan’s wife was an Australian actress as well, but she wasn’t quite getting the roles he was getting. She finally got a lead part in a high profile mini-series to be shot in Canada by a high profile director, and would be away for four months, so I was initially hired for just this period. The first month I would spend with them as a family, then she would be home by mid-November and I would move on.

  Nathan was thirty-nine years old, his wife, Simone, same age as me. It was a nice change to meet a woman who didn’t appear to be threatened by having me take care of her kids and living in the same house with her husband. It was also nice to see a couple who seemed to genuinely love each other; I was looking forward to this job.