The Big Book of Orgasms

by Rachel Kramer Bussel

  He mesmerized me. I ached to be boy enough for him. Except I wasn’t a boy. I wasn’t even butch. This high femme dyke ached to play with queer boys. I jacked off to gay porn. I knelt to suck butch cock, dreaming of alleys and piers, glory holes and bathrooms. I had fantasies about Baxter, because he was a fag…and had dated femmes. Might there still be desire in there, for a femme in seamed stockings, her deep red lips on his cock?

  I cruised Baxter and his boy at leather events long before we were introduced. Then one night, after we’d been introduced and had exchanged pleasantries at the New Year’s Eve play party, his boy busy blacking boots, Baxter’s eyes traversed my body. His lips parted slightly as he took me in.

  When it hit midnight, I found myself next to Baxter somehow. He reached toward me and gently touched my neck, watching my eyes as I trembled. Seconds later his hand was fisted in my hair, his tongue thrusting into my mouth, the other hand cupping my ass as he dipped me low. I opened to him, putting everything into that moment, all my submission, all my desire. He gently placed me back on my feet and smiled into my eyes, lightly chuckling. “I like to keep them guessing,” he said, indicating the crowd of shocked spectators. I smiled, heart pounding, and watched him walk back to his boy, his strut clearly showing he had done what he had come to do, and was proud of himself. He backed Robert into the wall and began to devour him.

  I hadn’t seen him since. I spotted Robert watching me bottom a couple of weeks later, as I fell in love with the rawhide cane. I’m not a masochist, but there are some toys that reach into me. That kind of pain is a joy to submit to, in its relentless invasion. I loved that cane so much I ached to kiss it afterward. When I opened my eyes to beg for that privilege, Robert was gone.

  I went home that night with Robert and Baxter in my head, a fresh set of cane marks on my thighs. I lay in bed playing with the marks, taking off my combat boots and grinding the soles into them. I imagined Robert’s eyes watching me, Baxter’s boots on my sore thighs. I wanted them both so much. Wanted them inside my head, filling up all my holes, giving me pain. Wanted to be between them, a conduit for their pleasure in each other. I got so turned on thinking about it my whole body felt electric.

  I pulled out what I needed to sink deeper into it, let myself feel it. First, the plug. I lubed it up, and slowly sank onto it. I arched my head back as I imagined Robert under me, the familiar ache as it entered my ass, the twisting feel of it reaching up into my stomach. It belonged there. I belonged on his cock, his hands gripping my sore thighs, holding me right there. I trembled. It felt so good to hold myself right there, aching, full of him.

  I pulled out my clovers, imagining Baxter placing the clamps on my nipples, holding me with his gaze. I gasped as he put them on, trembling more intensely. I wanted to cry, in that way that makes me come. No wait, not yet. He said you couldn’t come until he was inside you. You need to wait so he can feel you come around his cock.

  My hands trembled so much I fumbled with his cock as I tried to slide it in. I needed them to both be inside me, needed to be the holes that they fucked each other through. Finally I got his cock all the way in. I clamped down on it, staring into his eyes as he told me to wait. I had to beg for it. Tears began as I begged him to let me come; I had been waiting so long to be used by them. It was exactly what I needed and I was so grateful but could he please please please let me come. He listened to me beg with a small smile. Then he picked up the chain, placed it in my mouth and ordered me to bite down onto it as I came.

  The orgasm moved through me in bursts of electricity, jolting as I sobbed, trying to hold onto it, never wanting to let it go. I clamped down onto their cocks, so full, so precisely used, as I saw them lock gazes over my shoulder, and lean into a kiss. I kept coming, imagining their beards rubbing against my shoulder as they devoured each other.

  Baxter reached down and took off one of the clamps. I screamed as the burning began, cutting into my nipple, wrapping round my throat. Tears mixed with the orgasm in this deliciously painful ache in my chest. I held on tight, throbbing around their cocks, their arms wrapped around me. The sobbing subsided. They were still so hard.

  Baxter grinned wickedly at me and pulled off the other clamp, ordering me to come. I responded without thinking, slid right into a heart-wrenching orgasm so quickly that I stopped breathing for a moment. My chest felt like it was going to burst open, my head went all dark and sparkly. I felt my eyes go wide as it hit me. Finally I let the air out, and a new wave of tears hit. I rolled onto my side and wrapped my arms around myself, his cock slipping out of me, my ass still stuffed so full. I cried for a good long time. It was exactly the orgasm I really needed, one that was washed away with tears.

  SUDS AND A TWO-PIECE BATHING SUIT

  Brantwijn Serrah

  Ryan had been outdoors all day, mowing the lawn and pulling out the cars for a wash. I watched him from the kitchen window as he stripped off his shirt and started spraying down his black F-150, a bucket of sudsy, soapy water sitting beside the wheel. He had the CD player on high volume playing from the open garage, good classic rock.

  On a whim, I slipped into the bedroom and went searching through my dresser. I thought I might join him. Who doesn’t like to get a little wet and wild?

  He didn’t notice me until I’d come up behind him and tapped on his shoulder; the truck was thoroughly wetted down and he’d just started to spray my little red Chevy. When he turned, I playfully took the hose out of his hand.

  “I’ll help,” I said. “I love washing cars.”

  He grinned, seeing I had donned my little black bikini and a pair of short cutoff jeans.

  “Be my guest,” he said, and bent down to grab the sponge out of the bucket.

  And of course I sprayed him, wetting his dark-gray shorts.

  Ry spun around with a mischievous grin. As he came toward me, I laughed and sprayed him again, splashing his bare chest just as he grabbed me and pressed me against the hood of my car. At first I thought he would just put an end to my playfulness, but he paused, giving me a careful, teasing glare, before spraying me back. I shrieked as my bikini top was soaked. Almost immediately, my nipples were at hard attention, poking up under the dark material.

  “Come on now, Catie,” he said, tossing me the sponge. “Get busy.”

  I smiled at him and obediently turned around to start sudsing up my car. Ry put down the hose and grabbed a second sponge from the bucket, joining me.

  As we met over the bumper, he squeezed out his sponge over my head—I gasped and straightened, hitting him in the chest with mine. He laughed and pressed me against the slippery hood again, crushing his sponge against my collarbone and letting the soapy, sudsy water trickle down between my breasts.

  I rolled my hips against him. “We’re not going to get the cars finished like this.”

  “We’ll finish,” he murmured, running the sponge down to my bare belly and rubbing it up and down my skin. “But I think you’re more interested in playing games than doing chores.”

  “You caught me,” I purred. “Want to go inside before somebody sees you grinding me on my hood?”

  He laughed, and backed away. I stood up to follow when he suddenly grabbed the hose again and turned it full force on me, backing me onto the hood as I screamed with laughter, my jeans soaked, slippery water running down my body and the bright red car.

  “No fair!” I shouted. He laughed, and before I knew it he was slipping off my shorts, leaving me only in the bikini. He slipped a finger underneath the bottom, sliding it into my pussy.

  “Not gonna make it inside,” he whispered. He slid his finger in and out of me, kissing my ear as he did, and I raised up my legs, resting them on the bumper to give him full access. He slid a second finger in and started stroking my G-spot with lovely precision. With his free hand, he pushed aside the material covering my breasts, exposing my pink, sharply erect nipples.

  “Oh, yeah,” he murmured. “I like that.”

  I sat up a little, leaning fo
rward as he fingered me to slip my hand into his shorts. His cock was hard and throbbing, wet and slick—I slid it free and gave it several eager, vigorous strokes.

  He slipped his fingers out of my pussy, tucking aside the damp crotch of my bathing suit. I scooted down on the wet hood and offered my cunt. From the garage, the rock music played on; I hoped none of the neighbors would take that moment to peek out their windows.

  Our wet bodies were thrillingly cool as he slipped his cock into me. He ran his hands along my slippery, soapy body and brought both up to squeeze my wet breasts together as he invaded me. I moaned, welcoming him deeper and squeezing my pussy around him.

  He kissed me and settled into a rhythm matching the Black Sabbath pouring out of the stereo. I gasped with every thrust. After only a few moments, though, he stopped and pulled out.

  “Over,” he said. I obliged, slipping off the slick hood and turning to bend over it, putting my hands squarely on the car and raising my buttocks. I lifted one knee to rest on the hood and groaned happily as he slid in.

  Ry grabbed my hips, rocking me against his cock and fucking me hard and fast. With another moan I leaned down against the car, pressing my naked tits against the cold, wet metal and lifting my pussy a little higher, letting him bury himself in it. I felt the wet fabric of his shorts right up against my thighs and a stray thought went across my mind that any second now, the sweet older woman across the street was going to decide to come out.

  “Oh, Ryan, hurry,” I gasped. “Someone’s going to see—”

  He grunted and I let out a short cry as he banged me even deeper. My pussy was so wet he slipped in and out with ease; I was unable to think of anything but the raging cock plundering my wet cunt.

  I came hard and fast, an explosive clanging of bliss and rapture closing down around Ryan’s erection and bursting through my body. I leaned back, wanting to take him as deep as he could go as I orgasmed with brutal intensity.

  He pulled out of me almost too quickly and I gave a little cry of disappointment—then I felt him push aside more of the bathing-suit bottom, and I shuddered at the cool touch of lube dribbling down my crack just before he slipped into my ass. I gasped at the brief shock as he prodded me open, and then he was humping like an animal, practically splitting me on his cock.

  I wondered if any cars were coming—I heard the slow sound of traffic one street over but none turned onto our little lane. Ryan’s cock felt huge in me; I could already feel him ready to come: his thrusts were shorter, harder, like small bursts of desperation. I bounced back on him, slipping one hand down to my still-quivering pussy and fervently teasing my clit.

  “Over again,” he gasped desperately, slipping out. “Over, Catie.”

  I did as told, flipping quickly and laying myself at his mercy on the hood. He tugged at his cock, aiming for my naked torso as it started to spurt. Hot come splattered on my belly and my wet, slippery tits.

  “Oh, Ry,” I murmured happily, lifting my hands to squeeze my tits together. “That’s a chore I really like.”

  “Mm-hmm,” he hummed, leaning over to kiss me, pressing his palm gently against my pussy. “My favorite, too.”

  THE JEFFREY FACTOR

  Stella Harris

  You’re such a slut for this.” Shane heard Jeff’s dark chuckle, knew he was leaning close. The side of Shane’s face tingled, waiting for the brush of Jeff’s beard that never came. Jeff said he loved how responsive Shane was, how easy it was to tease and torment him because his reactions were so immediate and obvious. Shane’s body couldn’t keep its secrets.

  Shane’s attention had achieved the laser focus that resulted from hours of teasing. There was only one thought he could hold in his mind and that was how desperately he wanted, no needed, release.

  A cold intrusion brought Shane’s mind back to the here and now, the chilled, sleek metal of Jeff’s favorite new toy sliding into his ass, its curved shape and knobbed head perfectly designed to drive him mad. Shane writhed on the bed and felt a puff of air against his thigh and sensed Jeff’s silent chuckle as he enjoyed Shane’s discomfort.

  Jeff let him adjust to the sensation for a moment, sliding the vibrator in and out slowly, twisting and rubbing it against his inside walls, but only teasing the spot where he really wanted it.

  The vibrator switched on and Shane moaned around the gag in his mouth; even on the lowest setting the sensations lit up his nerves. His nipples peaked and tightened and he thrust his hips upward, hoping against hope for friction he didn’t find.

  Jeff laughed again. He claimed not to have a sadistic side, said he didn’t enjoy dishing out pain, but Shane considered this cruelty all the same.

  Shane knew Jeff would reward him for it later. He would be held and gentled, stroked and comforted as his body shook and he recovered from the adrenaline pulsing through his veins. But the safety of that relief was a long way off yet. Jeffrey was just hitting his stride and this night was far from over.

  Jeff angled the vibrator so that it pressed against Shane’s prostate and Shane wailed, the sound muffled by the gag. “So pretty like this,” Jeff said, the fingers of his free hand ghosting along the length of Shane’s engorged cock.

  Shane whimpered at the not-enough touch, his hips stuttering forward seeking more contact, but this only encouraged Jeff. His fingers trailed up and down, tracing the raised veins, the ridge of his head, his sensitive glans. Shane felt everything so acutely he thought he could even feel Jeff’s individual fingerprints, and the occasional scrape of a callus made him flinch.

  Jeff’s grip tightened, and without being told Shane knew it was too good to be true. Jeff counted; ten strokes and then his hand would disappear. Shane’s hips thrust upward repeatedly, making his cock bob in the air, untouched. Then Jeffrey’s hand returned, his low gravely voice counting out the strokes once more, the sound of his voice as much a torment as his touch.

  This teasing would be bad enough on its own, but this particular torment had started days ago when Jeffrey had asked just how far he’d be willing to go. Shane had been so eager to please Jeffrey that he had readily agreed to all that was asked of him, without really thinking it through.

  But then Jeffrey had expected him to pay up, to go through with everything he’d agreed to, and that had brought Shane here, tied securely to his bed, enduring hours of torment, all after going a week without coming.

  Shane choked back the sounds fighting to escape from his throat. He wanted to beg, but the gag would allow no words, and he knew from experience that begging only incited Jeff to further cruelty. Shane could tap out—give the nonverbal safeword they’d agreed on—but Shane wanted to prove that he could do this, that he could be everything Jeff wanted him to be.

  “So good for me,” Jeff said, once more seeming to read Shane’s mind. It was unnerving, the way Jeff knew him so well, knew what he was thinking, what he was feeling, how to push his buttons.

  Jeff’s fingers trailed lower, his fingernails gently scratching against the taut skin of Shane’s balls. “You’re so full,” Jeff said, wrapping his fingers around the base of Shane’s sack and squeezing ever so gently. The muscles of Shane’s abdomen clenched and he moaned, long and deep. Jeff’s torments were getting playful and when his mood turned like this, Shane never knew what to expect.

  Jeff gripped the vibrator and angled it, and Shane arched his back in response, not sure if he was trying to get closer or get away. He was so close to coming that it hurt. He tried to remind himself that he wanted this, that it would all be worth it in the end.

  When he was first asked to go a week without jacking off, it hadn’t sounded like such a big deal. It wasn’t as if he was a chronic masturbator; he regularly went days without. What he hadn’t counted on was the Jeffrey factor. Just because Shane wasn’t allowed to come didn’t mean Jeff planned to refrain from sexual activity. Every day of Shane’s abstinence held a different trial. Jeff’s favorite was to order Shane to go down on him, to use Shane’s mouth roughly and then not retu
rn the favor, not even let Shane hurriedly finish himself off while still kneeling at Jeffery’s feet.

  Jeff knew how hot it got Shane to have his face fucked, to be used for Jeff’s pleasure. How it made him ache within the confines of his pants, how his hand actually twitched with the urge to grip himself and blow his load.

  With a quick tug, the blindfold was ripped from Shane’s eyes. Even the dim light of the room was blinding for an instant. As his vision came into focus, the sight that greeted him was Jeff kneeling between his legs, gripping his own cock and stroking it the way Shane wanted to be stroked. His own cock ached in sympathy. He could almost feel the sensations he knew Jeff was experiencing and he thrashed in his bindings, no longer able to help himself.

  “Look so fucking hot like that. So fucking desperate,” Jeff said, barely coherent as his hand moved faster. Shane knew what it felt like to have that hand working him; he wanted to be touched like that now.

  Jeff let out a long, strangled groan. His hand, so recently a blur of motion, stilled. His spend splashed onto Shane’s aching cock and Shane sobbed, tears of frustration slipping from his eyes and dampening his cheeks.

  “Don’t make me give you something to cry about.” Jeff’s voice was dark, used, but far from worn out.

  Jeff had his release, but Shane knew his own would be a long time coming.

  CHAINS OF LOVE

  Lily K. Cho