Tell Me What You Want—Or Leave Me

by Maxwell, Megan

  God . . . God . . . oh God, how very naughty.

  How can I possibly stop moving?

  The way he touches me makes me want more, and my face gives away what I’m thinking so Eric pulls his wet fingers from under my skirt, stands up, and takes me by the hand.

  “Let’s go,” he says.

  Excited, nervous, and full of desire, I follow. I would follow him to the ends of the earth!

  I’m surprised when I see we’re not headed for our room. He’s headed to the beach instead. Once we are beyond the lights of the bar and wrapped in the breeze and the darkness of the evening, my love kisses me desperately.

  I’m dying to touch him and unbutton his shirt. I’m overcome by my husband’s body. It’s smooth, sinewy, and hot.

  I touch him; he touches me.

  The heat between us grows with each second.

  Between the kisses and the groping, we bump up against the bar on the beach, that little place where they make those stupendous margaritas during the day. It’s closed now, and Eric wants to play. He unknots the bow at my waist to open my blouse.

  “This is what I want,” he murmurs once my breasts are exposed to the night air.

  Hungrily, he kneels before me and kisses my nipples. First one, and then the other. My blouse falls to the floor, and I’m left wearing only my long skirt. Aroused, I look over to the bar, where everyone is having fun. They’re just a few yards from us, but I don’t care if they can see us; I grab him by the hair and bring my right breast to his mouth.

  “Taste me,” I whisper.

  He’s thrilled and focuses his attention on my breasts as his hands run up and down my legs and slowly, very slowly, lift my skirt. When my nipple stiffens, I don’t need to ask. Eric turns his attention to my other breast.

  “Yes . . . Like that . . . That’s how I like it,” I say between breaths.

  I’m all stirred up, and as his hands squeeze my ass, I feel my thong ripping.

  “You don’t need that,” he says, teasingly.

  I laugh aloud, but, once he tears my skirt off, it turns into a nervous giggle.

  I’m just a few yards from the tourists at the hotel, naked and with a ripped thong but ready to go. And then, in that instant, we hear a woman’s laughter—but not mine—close to us. Eric and I glance at each other when we realize a man and a woman are in our exact same situation on the other side of the bar.

  We don’t say a word. We don’t need to. Without acknowledging each other, each couple continues their own kinky dance.

  We’re turned on by each other’s presence.

  Eric kisses me. He longs for my mouth in the same way I need his. His hands take hold of my wrists, and he lifts them above my head. His body is pressing mine against the bar’s wooden boards, and I can feel his erection on my belly. That incites me even more.

  He’s throbbing violently. I want him inside me.

  “You drive me crazy,” he says.

  I grin. I close my eyes. I’m so happy.

  Suddenly, the woman’s moans make us turn our heads. She’s on the floor on all fours, and her companion is fucking her over and over from behind.

  I can’t take my eyes off this spectacle, and I’m particularly entranced by the woman’s expression. Her mouth, her face, her gaze show she’s enraptured. I can see how much she’s loving it, and that makes my own temperature rise.

  I love to watch.

  Watching gets me worked up.

  Watching makes me want to play.

  “Do you like what you see?” Eric murmurs in my ear.

  That question brings back memories of our first visit to Moroccio, that very special restaurant he took me to in Madrid. I smile when I remember how scared I was back then, and I sigh as I try to imagine what my face looks like right now. Everything’s different. Thanks to Eric, my perception of sex has changed—I think for the better.

  I’m now a woman who relishes sex. Who talks about sex. Who knows how to play and no longer sees it as taboo. As the woman’s cries get louder, and her partner’s thrusts become harder and more assured, we watch, and Eric’s voice breaks a little.

  “Now I want to hear you moan,” he says.

  I can’t take my eyes off the scene before us, but I notice when Eric undoes the knot on his linen pants and takes them off. He turns me toward him, parts my legs, and after rubbing his cock on my butt, he locates my sex and thrusts into me.

  Oh yes . . . yes.

  His stroke is heavenly and fearless. The way we both like it. His hard, smooth, stiff penis buries itself completely in me, and I suckle it and squeeze, delighted to receive him.

  The pleasure is so intense . . . The heat is bracing . . . I pant and my love, my lover, my German, holds me by the waist, having too good a time as he lunges at me over and over, drawing moans from me that drive us both crazy.

  I turn and realize the couple who was tussling before are watching, and I know now it’s me who’s showing the other woman the depths of my desire.

  Oh yes . . . I really want her to see.

  I want her to know just exactly how much I’m savoring this.

  Because of Eric’s height and force, he lifts me off the ground a couple of times, and I have to hold on to the bar’s wooden boards so he can come in and out of me. I like how he possesses me.

  He does it again and again. I love it. He loves it. The strangers love it, and then my body weakens, turns to jelly, and I let myself come with a long and delicious cry. Eric follows the instant after my climax with a raspy groan.

  For a few seconds, we’re quiet and don’t move. We’re exhausted now. And then the other couple waves at us as they get dressed and go, and we come back down to earth.

  Still holding on to me, Eric pulls his cock from inside me. He kisses my ribs, and when he sees me cringe, he squeezes me tighter in his arms.

  “Do you want to take a little swim?”

  Oh yes . . . I like doing everything with him, and I accept without reservation.

  I love it when he’s so relaxed. When he loses his arrogance. His solemnity.

  Naked, happy, we run toward the water, holding hands. We both dive in, and when we emerge from the water, my lover takes me in his arms and kisses me.

  “I’m crazier about you every day, Mrs. Zimmerman,” he says.

  I smile broadly.

  How could I not smile . . . drool . . . shout out my happiness. What a husband I have!

  I curl my legs around his body and notice his erection growing again. I give my insatiable, kinky, and hot husband a certain look.

  “Tell me what you want,” I say.

  3

  After twenty days in our own personal paradise where everything is magical and fun, I look out the car window in Mexico City, and I’m surprised to discover the streets are choked with people. Eric’s on his cell, with his usual serious expression, as the driver navigates our impressive limousine.

  When we arrive at a very modern building, a man in a uniform opens the car door. He greets Eric and quickly calls for an elevator. When the elevator doors open on the eighteenth floor, Dexter is there to meet us. His warm smile lets me know how happy he is about our visit.

  “Look at how pretty and tan the lovers are,” he says. We all laugh, and then Dexter takes my hand. “Goddess, what a delight to see you again.”

  “Hey, what about me?” Eric protests.

  Eric fist bumps him.

  “Sorry, dude, but I like your woman more than I like you.”

  Because he’s in a wheelchair, I have to lean down to give him a kiss on each cheek. After our initial greetings, Dexter introduces us to a woman who’s been standing near him. “This is Graciela, my personal assistant. Eric, you’ve already met.”

  “Welcome, Mr. Zimmerman,” says the brunette.

  Eric shakes her hand and responds warmly. “Good to see you again, Graciela. Everything going OK with this jerk?”

  The young woman looks over at Dexter with a shy smile. “Right now everything’s fine, sir,
” she says.

  “Judith is Eric’s wife, and they’ve come to visit us after their honeymoon,” he tells her.

  “Delighted, Mrs. Zimmerman, and congratulations,” she says.

  “Please,” I say, “call me Judith. All right?”

  The young woman looks over at Dexter for approval, and he nods.

  “Please, you don’t need their blessing to call me by my first name, OK?”

  I smile and she smiles back.

  “Now you know, Graciela,” says Eric. “Just call her Judith.”

  “Of course, Mr. Zimmerman.” She turns to me. “A pleasure, Judith.”

  I don’t particularly care to be called ma’am or Mrs. Zimmerman all the time. In fact, I don’t like it at all.

  I think Graciela must be a few years older than me. She seems meticulous and, from my point of view, attractive. She has dark hair, captivating eyes, and a sweetness about her. And yet, she doesn’t really look like a woman of today. Her beauty feels old-fashioned and not like that of someone my age.

  Once we’ve been welcomed, we retire to a simple room. There are no obstacles so that Dexter can move around with ease in his wheelchair.

  For about an hour, the four of us chat and talk about the wedding. Dexter asks about my sister, and when he mentions her for the fourth time, I decide to be crystal clear with him. “Dexter, don’t go anywhere near my sister,” I say.

  He and Eric crack up, and I get it. I can’t even imagine what would happen if Dexter made a date with my sister and proposed any of his games. She’d slap him so hard, she’d knock him off his chair. I laugh the more I think about it.

  “Easy, Jude,” says Eric when he realizes what I’m thinking. “Dexter knows very well with whom he can and cannot mess around.”

  I nod. I want to make sure I’m clear, but Dexter gets ahead of me. “Got it. Are you a little jealous of your pretty sister?”

  I just stare at him.

  Me? Jealous of my sister?

  Please! “No, I’m simply protective of her,” I respond, again trying to make things clear.

  Dexter smiles.

  “You’re so sweet, my dear Judith.”

  “Thank you; you too,” I say, teasing him. “But your promise means you’ll leave my sister alone. Remember: you were warned!”

  The three of us laugh, clear about our understanding, and then I realize Graciela isn’t laughing. She doesn’t smile. Her eyes briefly moisten, and she stares at the floor. She takes two deep breaths and lifts her head, and then her eyes are back to normal.

  Wow . . . what an incredible recovery but, even more impressive, what I just realized is so intense!

  Graciela is obviously head over heels for Dexter. Poor woman. I feel terrible for her.

  In an instant, she says goodbye and leaves.

  When it’s just the three of us in this huge room, Dexter asks how we were treated at the hotel during our honeymoon. Eric looks over at me, and I smile like a fool.

  It was fantastic. The best trip of my life. Eric loves me in a way I never imagined a man could love, and I’m desperately in love with him.

  As we laugh and chat, Dexter asks if we played during our honeymoon, and I tell him we played a lot—a whole lot—but that these were games strictly between my husband and me. God, just thinking about it makes my heart beat faster.

  The hotel . . .

  The bed . . .

  His eyes . . .

  His hands . . .

  All those hot, kinky talks . . .

  As he listens to me, Eric smiles. He says he can tell exactly what I’m thinking by the look on my face, and I’m sure he’s guessed my thoughts more than once.

  “Goddess, whenever you want, I’m ready to play,” says Dexter, joking around, like always. He winks at me and admires my tanned legs.

  That makes me blush. Eric’s games are always hot and kinky, and when I look over at him, I can see he’s ready—my husband’s always ready to go. But our stimulating conversation is cut short when we hear a phone ring, and an instant later Graciela comes in, holding it in her hand.

  Dexter takes it, and Eric leans toward me. “I see you’re a little flushed, my love. Is everything all right?”

  He’s so shameless.

  I can’t help but grin, but before I can respond, he caresses my leg with his hand.

  “If you want, I’m willing,” he says in a honeyed voice.

  Wow, I’m getting so hot . . . so very hot!

  As happens every time, I get butterflies in my stomach and wet in a fraction of a second. There’s no question: I’m turning into a sex fiend. Who would have ever thought I would love this game so much?

  The truth is, I like it. I enjoy it.

  My man grins. I do too.

  I whisper to him so Graciela won’t hear me. “Tear my thong off.”

  Oh my God, what did I just say?

  The Iceman’s blue gaze turns ardent. Wow! I’ve gone from top speed to supersonic, and, from what I can see, he’s breaking all kinds of records.

  I’m well aware that both my shamelessness and my surrender drive him crazy. I give him a smile I know will push him even further.

  He responds with a word Mexicans love to use: “Sabrosa!”

  When Dexter finishes with the call, he hands the phone to Graciela, and she leaves the room.

  “Dexter, when do our dinner guests arrive tonight?” asks Eric.

  They give each other a look, and I know they’ve communicated perfectly. Those two!

  “In about three hours,” he responds, clearly delighted.

  Dexter arches his brow and stares shamelessly at my erect nipples.

  “What do you say we go someplace more private?”

  My pulse quickens.

  I stand up, and Eric holds my hand tightly. I like that feeling. We walk behind Dexter, and I’m surprised when we find ourselves in his office. I thought we were going to a bedroom.

  Once Eric closes the door, I’m astounded when Dexter pushes a button on the bookshelf, and it suddenly slides to the right. I can’t hide my amazement.

  “Goddess, welcome to the pleasure dome,” says Dexter.

  Eric guides me by the hand. Once the bookshelf closes behind us, there’s a tenuous and yellowish light.

  This is kink in its purest state.

  My eyes adapt to the shadows, and I see a bed about thirty yards from me, a Jacuzzi, a round table, a cross on the wall, boxes, and several things hanging from the walls. When I come near, I realize they’re straps and sex toys. S&M! I don’t like S&M.

  My face must have given me away because Eric steps up to reassure me. “Are you scared?” he asks.

  I shake my head. I’m never scared when I’m with him. I know he won’t let me suffer or have me do anything I don’t want to do.

  Dexter rolls his wheelchair over to a sound system and puts on a CD. An instant later, the room is filled with a very sensual instrumental music. It’s pretty hot. He positions himself by the round table while Eric kisses me. I let myself enjoy his tongue inside my mouth . . . I’m loving it as he plants his hands on my butt and squeezes it with delight.

  The heat rises, and my body responds to his touch in a matter of seconds.

  We kiss and grope for several minutes. I know Dexter is enjoying watching us. And once I’m totally and completely turned on by my handsome husband, he abandons my mouth and sits on the bed.

  “Undress, my love,” he says.

  Both men stare at me, and I notice neither of them are undressing. They just watch and wait for me to do what he’s requested.

  Without hesitation, I undo the button and zipper on my skirt and let it fall to the floor.

  They both center their gaze on my thong, but I leave it on for the moment.

  Dexter makes a movement with his hand, and, once I get his meaning, I turn and show off my ass.

  “Mamacita,” he murmurs.

  When I turn back to them, I very slowly drop the straps from my top and pull it off so I’m just standi
ng there in my underwear and high heels. I know these two, and I know they love that.

  “Put your hands on your waist and open your legs a little bit,” says Dexter.

  I do as he says, and my breathing accelerates.

  “Touch your breasts,” says Eric.

  I put my hands over them, on top of my bra, and I squeeze and rub them while the two of them watch, and I burn with desire.

  I’m being watched by two men who want to fuck me.

  I’m being watched by two men who want to taste me.

  I’m being watched, and it excites me.

  I’m agitated. I want them to touch me.

  “I still remember that woman in Germany having her way with your body and the way you were panting,” whispers Dexter as he comes up close to me. “That was amazing. I can’t wait to see that again.”

  Remembering that turns me on too. I like Diana, the German woman Dexter’s referring to. Her way of taking me was so exacting that I get wet just thinking about her.

  We talked about it during our honeymoon, and Eric’s as excited to see her again as I am. “Oh, you will, my friend,” says Eric once he recognizes the look on my face. “I can assure you Jude wants to do it again.”

  Dexter sighs and nods. He moves to the back of the room where there’s a small fridge and pulls out a bottle of water and a jar of something red.

  My curiosity gets the better of me. “What’s in the jar?”

  Dexter opens it and shows me. “Cherries. I love them!”

  He drops one in his mouth, chews, and savors it. “Mmm . . . they’re so sweet.”

  Seeing my expression, Dexter grins and places the jar of cherries on the table. He opens the drawer of a small dresser, pulls out a box and a mask, and hands it to Eric.

  “Put this on her.”

  Eric brings the mask over to me and, after giving me one of those looks that drive me crazy, kisses me and pulls the mask over my face. My world turns black. I can’t see anything.

  “Sit her down at the table,” I hear Dexter tell him.

  My man leads me, and, once I’m situated where Dexter wants, he puts his hands on my knees. “Lie down, my love.”

  I do as he says.

  The table is hard, and I can’t see. I don’t know where Eric is, and that disorients me a little bit. There’s a finger running on my thong, and my tummy flips. I’m hot. Excited and totally exposed to them, I hear Dexter’s wheelchair doing circles around the table.