As I walk, a man getting into his car almost stumbles. I give him a dazzling smile and keep walking. My jeans are tight enough that it’s clear there are no panty lines, but even if there were, they would have been eye-catching. My ass is plump and curvy, which means it can take a pretty good walloping, something else I enjoy building up to before my big release. I stroll inside, smiling as the air-conditioning cools me off, making my nipples stand at attention. My breasts are big enough that I usually wear a bra, and in fact I have a rather large collection of lacy yet sturdy ones. But there’s something about letting my breasts play peek-a-boo that makes me feel like I’m defying yet another social convention, not to mention letting them brush against the silky fabric of my top. Going braless lets me envision a man like the one who almost fell in the parking lot reaching his hand in and squeezing each nipple in turn, twisting and tugging just hard enough to make me gasp, to make my jeans that much wetter than they already are. They’re a calling card, of sorts, leading me forward as I head to the food court.
It’s still early, just after ten, so the breakfast crowd who arrive when the mall opens is mostly finished, and the lunch rush hasn’t begun. Those who remain have nowhere else to be; they’re here just as much to people-watch as eat, which means I add a little oomph to my walk to make sure my ass gets noticed by as many eyes as possible. I don’t overdo it, but between the tightness of the jeans and the red of my top and lipstick, it’s pretty easy to be the center of attention. I lean over the counter of the otherwise empty ice-cream booth, thrusting my ass out behind me. “A soft-serve swirl cone, please,” I request, fishing a five-dollar bill out of my jeans pocket. I have cash in my purse, but the effort of tugging the money out of my pocket makes the jeans rub up against my pussy.
“Keep the change,” I tell the man who hands me the cone, then close my eyes as I take my first bite, edging the pointed tip between my bright red lips. This is my breakfast, and I make sure to savor it. After another bite, I open my eyes and see the man from the parking lot staring right at me. He must have come back in and followed me, and that knowledge makes me lick my lips in a most provocative way. I walk over to him and without saying a word, sit next to him, slide my seat right next to him, and hold out the cone. It’s white and brown and red with the remains of my lipstick. He opens his mouth and lets me push the creamy dessert in. We share it silently. I shudder when he holds the cone and pushes just a bit more of it into my mouth than an average bite would be. When we’re done, my mouth is still hungry, ready to devour him.
He raises his eyebrows at me. I turn my chair toward him and spread my legs enough for him to see what I’m sure is a dark spot between my jeans. I want to climb onto his lap, but even I wouldn’t do that right here. He offers me his hand as he stands. I let him lead me out of the mall to the parking lot, and into the backseat of his car. Instead of unzipping my jeans or undoing my buttons, his fingers press firmly against the seam that’s now very warm and wet. He knows just where to put the most pressure, and though part of me longs for those fingers deep inside me, together with my fingers pinching my nipples, it’s enough to make me come hard. His thumb is heavy on my clit as his knuckles dig into my slit, working the denim like a sex toy. I am breathless when he pulls away.
We still don’t speak. Instead, we shift and I reach for his hardness, bulging beneath his own jeans, hot and hard against my eager hand.
LEARNING EXPERIENCE
Kathleen Tudor
Liz sighed as she stepped out of her clothes, tossing some into the hamper and hanging her skirt and jacket up to be dry-cleaned. Her neck was kinked and sore, and she twisted her head this way and that to relieve the pressure that the knots had built up. It was stupid, having to sit there in her office all day, being frowned at by upper management if she tried to walk a couple of laps around the cubicle farm or go outside to stretch out in the sun. “You don’t smoke,” they’d say, “why do you need to go out every hour?”
Maybe she should take up smoking to shut them up. It could save her life! Or at least her back.
She sat down on the bedroom floor and tried to stretch out, bending forward over her legs, then to each side, thumbs digging into knots and sore spots behind her. Shit, was that a knot or a boulder under her shoulder blade? She shifted onto her knees and clasped her hands behind her, stretching her arms straight and arching her back a little as she struggled to force those tortured muscles to release.
The door opened in a flurry of sound and motion, and Ben stepped in, whatever he had been saying lost completely as he gazed down at her, kneeling in front of him, hands behind her back and breasts thrust forward, her eyes wide and startled. She blinked, and Ben swallowed. He was topless, wearing a pair of dark slacks that couldn’t conceal the sudden bulge that swelled their front.
Liz dropped her arms hurriedly, and stood, brushing herself off. “Um, what were you saying?”
“Doesn’t matter.” He moved forward and grabbed her arm, gentle but firm, and pulled her to the side of the bed. She’d left a silk scarf draped over one bedpost, and he pulled her arms back behind her and began wrapping the soft fabric around her wrists.
“Ben, what are you doing?”
He shushed her, and Liz felt her body grow hot with arousal. Wow, where had that come from? He cinched the knot above her hands, and her clit seemed to twitch in response, sending a rush of warmth through her belly. Her chest felt tight, and her breath was quick and shallow. What was happening?
“Get down on your knees, like you were before,” Ben said. She glanced up at him, and he shrugged. “Please?”
Liz sighed and knelt, confused by his actions and even more confused by her own response. He unfastened his belt, and she let out a tiny whimper on her next breath. Ben smiled at her and cupped his cock, still encased in its fabric prison, with one broad hand. “You like this as much as I do, don’t you?”
Liz didn’t answer, but she didn’t have to. Her body answered for her when he bent and looped the belt around her ankles, making it three times around before he could buckle it to keep her legs in place. She shuddered in anticipation, her hands and legs bound, helpless.
When Ben stood again, he dropped his slacks and underwear and kicked them away. His cock stood full and heavy, nearly brushing his belly, and she whimpered as she imagined him forcing it into her mouth and using her. Dear god, where were these thoughts coming from?
Ben ran one hand through her hair, then did so again, this time clenching a fistful of it. He pulled her head back slightly, and she moaned and let her mouth fall open, her chest heaving as she fought for air. She was dizzy with arousal.
“Do you like that?”
The hair pulling? Being tied up? Knowing he was about to shove his cock into her mouth, and there was nothing she could do to stop it? “Yes…”
“Good.” He gave her hair another gentle tug and took hold of his cock with his other hand, bringing it to her lips. She sucked it into her mouth with no more persuasion, eager to please, more desperate than she had ever been to suck him off and make him come like a geyser. He groaned and his hips began to work, his hands still tugging gently at her hair as she sucked greedily.
He came in record time, shooting his hot come into her mouth. She swallowed and felt it slide into her belly as if it left a trail of fire. Fuck, yes! Her entire body was trembling with arousal, and she whimpered when she tried to shift and was brought up short by her bonds.
“That was amazing,” Ben said. He bent to kiss her, and one hand tweaked at her nipple as he plundered her mouth. He smiled. “You look so turned on.” He slid one hand between her legs, and gasped like his breath had been knocked out. “Holy shit, Lizzy, you’re soaked. Your thighs are wet.”
But she hardly noticed his words. Her entire body rocked toward him as his fingers slid between her folds, and she clamped her thighs around his hand when his palm met her swollen clit. She rubbed against him, and he pressed back, sending her soaring toward a release that she hadn’t even know
n was so near. She screamed as she bucked against him and then went limp, her body folding into a ball as Ben eased her as far down as her bonds would take her.
She distantly felt him release her arms, then her legs, and lift her up to set her on the soft bed. “Ben?” she murmured, her world still hazed with the purple fog of pleasure. He hummed some acknowledgment. “Promise me we can try that again this weekend?”
A TEACHABLE MOMENT
Walter Pratt
I could tell that Evan had never watched porn like what was unfurling on my TV screen before by the way his mouth hung open. He was young, having just turned twenty-one—at least, from my just-turned-forty vantage point. He still had a wide-eyed innocence about him, the kind that made him not just scream in ecstasy when I deep-throated him but gasp in awe, like he couldn’t quite believe the pleasure he’d just experienced. “They’re… coming on his face,” he said now, stating what would have been eminently obvious to anyone watching alongside us.
Yes, the lucky young man in the center of the circle jerk was getting splashed with come left and right. I couldn’t tell from Evan’s expression who in that scenario he envied. He remained riveted until the screen faded to black; I noticed that his dick had recovered fast, reminding me again just how youthful he, and his body parts, were. Mine was only at half-mast, rendered so after coming ferociously from fucking Evan as hard as I could, something he’d requested, growing more and more vocal as my condom-covered cock plunged in and out. When I’d dared to slow down to observe the delightful image of my shaft disappearing between the curves of his perfect ass, he encouraged me to keep going.
But where my dick wasn’t quite ready, my mouth definitely was. “We could try it…if you want,” I said, aiming to sound as casual as possible. I didn’t want to push him to do anything he wasn’t ready for, though if he’d been a bit older, I’d have asked him to strap me down with the cuffs I keep attached to my bed. But coming on my face was something I was pretty sure even a gay-sex novice could handle (Evan had confessed I was only his third lover, and certainly the oldest and most experienced).
“You mean, you’d want…that?” he asked, his voice going high and soft on the last word. “That” meant his hot come all over my face, and I assured him that yes, I most definitely wanted it.
“I want you to slap your cock across my cheeks. Shove it down my throat. Fuck my mouth,” I said, my dick responding to the words despite our relatively recent encounter. Saying them made me realize it had been a long time since anyone had done that, and it hadn’t gone so well. The guy was a little too mean, too rough, or rather, it didn’t seem like an act. He was rough, literally, with a graying beard and hard, beady eyes, and, it occurred to me later, looking to take out his anger at the world on whoever joined him in bed. That wasn’t what it was about for me; this was my playground, my escape. I worked out my issues with therapy, with art. Having a cock shoved down my throat and my face covered in come was, well, fun.
Evan’s eyes were wide, questioning. “Yes, really,” I said, gingerly touching his cheek. “I’ve done it before and liked it. Like the guy in the video.” Sure, he’d been acting, but there were some things you couldn’t fake—at least, that’s what I liked to believe. I certainly wasn’t faking it when I stared back at Evan, raw desire whipping through me.
He responded by pushing me back onto my bed with a ferocity I hadn’t expected of him. Maybe he just needed permission, needed to know how much I wanted it, because there he was, pinning me down with his knees on either side of my head, his impressively large cock seeming even bigger as he stroked it right in front of my face. “Do you want to taste this?” he asked, his thumb tight beneath the head, fist wrapped around it.
“Yes, please,” I moaned, straining upward toward him. He pinched my cheek and held my face just far enough away that I could see how hard he was, see his dick straining to connect with me. Evan maintained control, though, feeding me just the head of his cock.
“Lick around the head,” he ordered. “Don’t suck it or you won’t get it down your throat.” I did, delicately laving the engorged tip, going around and around until he pulled it out and told me to stick out my tongue. Evan beat a rhythm with his dick against my tongue, the slapping sound echoing in the room. Then he slammed it against my cheek, leaving my skin wet. “Open wide,” he said, before gliding his shaft down my throat. I hungrily swallowed him, my own cock aching to be touched as Evan fucked my mouth. I was so wet for him that he could easily move in and out, easing back until just the head was between my lips before surging forth.
Just as I was getting really into it, he stopped, depriving my mouth of what it craved. He pulled out, and I angled to see that beautiful dick in all its glory. “You got my cock so nice and wet, didn’t you?” he said. I thought I’d have to tell him what I wanted, give him a little more guidance, but Evan didn’t need it, and neither did his cock. He had his fist wrapped around his shaft, pressing tightly, his face contorted in concentration. I breathed deeply, relishing the smell of his arousal, soaking up the heat of his legs surrounding me, his body preparing to release. “You want my come all over your face, is that right, Bruce? You want me to leave you wet and sticky, then shove it all in your mouth?”
“Yes,” I panted, unable to touch myself but not caring. My cock was leaking by then, wet and oozing, and not stroking it only prolonged my arousal.
Evan was half in his own world, half in ours, his hand moving faster and faster until it was almost a blur, before a rush of hot cream blasted my cheeks, dripping down over my lips, chin and neck. Evan thrust his still-spurting dick between my limply parted lips, and I eagerly sucked his salty seed. True to his word, when he was done, he pushed much of the rest into my mouth, then moved aside so I could administer the two strokes I needed to come.
I’d never liked the idea of being in front of a classroom, having students eager to follow my every word. But this kind of teaching, with such a fast learner, I truly enjoyed. I hoped my horny pupil and I would have future teachable moments.
THE FLOGGER
Jade A. Waters
Katie had bought the damn flogger thirteen years ago, in the final throes of a souring relationship. She’d thought she’d have plenty of opportunities to use the suede leather contraption. Instead, the thing had ended up in the closet, only used as a dust collector.
Then she met Julian. He was as proper as they came: his suit jackets were always pressed and his ties neatly tucked; he got his hair cut every three weeks; he meticulously folded his papers after he read them. Brilliant, handsome and patient, he never faulted her for her ways. Instead he picked up after her and the chaos that was her collection of art supplies, her endless piles of clothes and even her oft-wild hair—which is why she froze when she found him standing in their living room, holding the flogger perpendicular to his hips, as if measuring it against his semierect, naked penis.
“You never told me about this.” Julian waved the flogger around, and it almost looked as if his shaft hardened.
She had to be imagining this.
“I did…once.” It was five years ago, when they’d just started telling each other their fantasies—long before they’d moved in together. She’d hidden it in the back of the closet since she’d never imagined it as Julian’s sort of thing.
His brow furrowed as he swung it, the tassels tapping his thighs.
“Hmm,” he said, reasoning. “Well, I suppose you should come here. And take off your clothes.”
Katie chuckled, but beneath her shirt, her nipples peaked. She walked over and dipped in for a kiss, except Julian held up his free hand. “No.” He rapped the rounded steel cap against her sternum and she jumped. “I mean it. Take them off.”
Her breath caught in her throat. Julian could be an animal in bed, but he never gave her orders.
“You heard me, Katie.” He grinned. “Do it now.”
She unbuttoned her blouse while Julian watched, and he swung the flogger back and forth, the suede le
ather slapping his skin. She kept her eyes locked on his pelvis, noting that his cock had indeed stiffened with the movement.
“Faster.” Julian tapped her hip. “All of it.”
A spasm rippled through her inner walls. She dropped her shirt to the floor, and Julian plucked her nipples through the sheer lace of her bra, nodding.
“Bra. Skirt. Now.”
She stripped them off.
“Good. Now take off your panties.”
Katie leaned again to kiss him, but he put a hand over her lips.
“Nope. Panties off.”
She hooked her thumbs under the waistband, her crevice already drenched before the cotton hit the floor.
“Spread your legs.” Something in his voice sent her pulse racing. A little part of her remembered her ex; while he’d tied her up sometimes, their flogger encounter hadn’t gone particularly well. Julian’s tone came harsh to her ears, but in his eyes she saw years of love, of patience. He snapped the flogger and she trembled. “What are you waiting for?”
Katie gasped and threw her foot out to the side.
Julian’s eyes twinkled—clearly, he was enjoying himself. She tried to shake off her giggles and he walked behind her, running the cap down her legs. He sidled right behind her, grazing her folds with his cock.
“Oh wow,” Katie muttered.
The Big Book of Orgasms Page 21
