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From “Museum Piece”

07 Sunday Oct 2012

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This is from a story called “Museum Piece,” published in its entirety in Not Safe for Work. In this story, Laura is working late getting ready for an art gallery opening and is captivated by the sensual, erotic collection being prepared by fellow curator Christanka.

*****

The handle moved easily and the door opened silently on well-oiled hinges and she sighed, irritated that it had been left open. Suddenly, a face appeared in the door and a hand shot out towards her, clamping firmly over her mouth. She tried to scream but was so startled she couldn’t get a breath. Her eyes opened wide, and then she relaxed when she realized that she wasn’t in any danger.

He smiled at her and put a finger over his lips. She nodded and breathed deeply as he lowered his hand from her mouth. He gestured wordlessly for her to put her purse and jacket down outside the door and follow him inside. Curious, she did as he bade.

It took a minute for her eyes to adjust to the semi-darkness, but she knew she was in the storage area immediately behind the raised display platform, and off to the left a bit. The area was curtained off by heavy velvet draperies and some of Christanka’s tapestries and hangings, and all she could see was the dim outlines of large wooden shipping crates. The only thing she could hear was her own breathing and his directly behind her as he guided her to a spot behind the curtains.

Carefully he lined her up so that she could see that there was an opening in the drapes, and despite herself, she gasped. Again, she felt his hand go over her mouth and his lips brushed against her ear. “Shhhh,” he whispered, and the feel of his warm breath on her raised goosebumps all up and down her body. And again, she nodded, and his hand slipped away, pointing through the curtain.

Christanka was nude, her long hair loose and cascading down her body. Her breasts were beautiful, high and firm, and her nipples were dark and swollen. She closed her eyes and ran her hands over her body, feeling the weight of her tits in her hands and sliding them down over her flat, tight stomach. Her fingers slipped into her tight slit and she moaned slightly, licking her lips and letting her head hang back.

She teased herself, swaying in place, letting the cascade of hair brush against her perfectly formed ass. She ran her hands back up her body, running a wet fingertip over her nipples before sucking her own juices from it, tasting her own musky essence. Smiling to herself, she opened her eyes and drank in the sight of the carved marble statue before her.

Pressing her palms together, she bowed low before it, and ascended the dais. She slithered onto the waiting body of the idol, running her soaking cunt along the huge onyx penis, wetting it thoroughly with her own juices. She lowered herself onto its very tip, taking just the head inside. She teased herself with it, riding it slowly up and down. Laura watched as inch after inch of the black cock split Christanka’s shaven pussy. She took it in all the way, effortlessly, and ground her erect clit against the nubs at the base of the cock.

Laura’s pussy burned at the sight of Christanka being filled with the giant stone phallus. She felt a hand on her waist, and arching her back slightly, she rubbed her ass against the young intern still standing behind her. She could feel his cock hard against her, and he pressed into her, his hands on her hips pulling her close.

Laura bit her lip to keep from moaning as she leaned back into him, never taking her eyes off of Christanka’s lovely form. He slid his hands up her body and cupped her large, soft breasts, rubbing and teasing her rock-hard nipples through her clothes. She ground her ass against him, reaching behind him and pulling him closer. He lowered his nips to her bare collarbone and kissed the soft, sweet skin, making her shudder.

She reached behind her, searching impatiently for his cock. From her vantage point she could see the swells of Christanka’s round, tight ass and the sight of her pussy stretching to impossible limits as it swallowed up inch after inch of hard, marble cock. Laura needed to feel that, to feel a hard cock inside her, filling her up and stretching her wide. She fumbled with his zipper, struggling to free him, and he obliged her, undoing his trouser button with a deft flick of his fingers and releasing his cock for her.

She fought back another moan when she realized how big it was, throbbing and rigid in her hand, and she squeezed it appreciatively, causing him to stifle a groan in the back of his throat as he pressed his lips to her neck.

He gathered the hem of her skirt in his hands and flipped it up, leaning her forward over the packing crates. Her hands rested on the rough wood, while she watched Christanka ride the stone statue, her hands working feverishly on her own tits. Christanka reached up and pulled her own nipples, tugging at the flesh and moaning.

Laura felt his hands at the waist of her panties and she trembled as he slid them down past her ass to the floor, where she stepped out of them and kicked them aside. She spread her legs, opening herself to him, and feeling her legs go weak as his hands slid over the soft globes of her ass. He sought her warm, wet center, stroking the engorged lips and parting them, slipping his fingers easily into her ready cunt.

Laura could do nothing but stand still and watch as Christanka rode the enormous stone tool, moaning and crying out with her building passion. She leaned back, encouraging him to go deeper into her, but he pulled his hand away with a suddenness that almost made her knees buckle.

She wanted to cry out with relief when she felt the hot, hard head of his cock against her aching hole. He teased her with it, slipping the head in between her lips, then pulling it back out, then placing it back in, just a bit further. Every time she leaned back into him, trying to get more of him inside, he’d pull away until she stopped moving. Finally, he slipped his cock inside her and she pulled away from him, causing him to slip out a little, but this time he grabbed her hips and thrust into her, filling her completely and causing her hands to slide a little on the wood crate.

*****

Not Safe for Work is available at Amazon.com for the Kindle, in paperback, and at BarnesandNoble.com for the Nook.

From “Deployed”

05 Friday Oct 2012

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This story still isn’t quite finished, but here’s a sneak peek at it…

*****

We pad barefoot back into the kitchen, wrapped in thick towels, and I grab us each a bottle out of the fridge. We tap the necks of together. “Happy birthday, dude,” I say and you smile, taking a long drink of good beer. I lean against the counter and my elbow causes the little white birthday candles to roll into the sugar bowl before coming to a stop.

You set your beer down and pick up the candles, rolling them thoughtfully between your fingers. You smile a secret smile and raise your eyebrows at me.

“What’s that look for?”

“Nothing,” you reply. “I was just thinking of how nice it would be to have some of those special low-temp candles…” You smirk. “Sometimes my dirty bondage fantasies just slip out.”

I put my beer down and undo my towel, re-wrapping it around my waist, baring my breasts. “Go for it.”

“No way, man. You’ll burn yourself with these.”

I sigh. “I can handle it. Trust me.”

“You keep saying that.” You look dubious, but the image in your head of hot wax dripped on my skin is clearly vivid.

I take one of the candles from you and light it. I hold it over my arm and let the wax drop on my skin. It stings, but not enough to make me flinch. “See?”

I scoop a handful of soft breast in my hand and hold the hot flame just inches over my quivering nipple. Silently, the first drop hits the sensitive flesh and I inhale sharply as the too-hot wax burns my nipple. It cools instantly to a more comfortable warmth, but that first sting is delicious, like a well-timed bite, painful, but good. Another drop joins it, and another until my nipple has a coating of white wax.

I blow out the spent candle and peel the wax off and the tender pink skin is hot and red. I do the same to the other nipple, wincing as the hot wax stings and then cools to a tender ache.

This time you blow out the candle and peel the wax off me. “Does it hurt?” you ask.

“Mmm hmm,” I answer, nodding. “They could definitely use some soothing.”

You pull me close and kiss me, then you lower your head to the hot, aching red spots on my nipples. My towel comes unwrapped and falls to the floor. Your hand slides between my thighs, parting the still-damp curls and sinking easily between my lips. I moan as your finger finds my clit; you rub it gently, making it hard under your fingertips.

Your lips are gentle on my nipples, your tongue flicking against the hard points. The slight burns from the wax hurt, but the combination of the sting and the ache of pleasure of your licking and sucking are driving me wild. The subtle, constant pain is better than clamps or rings, even.

My cunt is reacting powerfully to the play. Your hands are working my body like you’ve known its every curve–every secret–forever. You slide your fingers inside me, pressing against me, leaning me hard against the counter. I’m bent back, arched for you, my legs apart as your fingers manipulate me. The only sound in the darkened kitchen is our breathing, soft moans and sighs, and the wet sounds of my pussy, the clicks as you plunge your fingers deep inside me and pull them back out. I know your fingers are shining with my juice and I grab your hand. You stop, confused, and then sigh deeply as I raise the two fingers to my mouth and suck on them.

I guide your hand back to my pussy, but you shake your head. “I want to taste you,” you say, and I’m in no position to argue. I hop up on the counter and you lower your mouth to my cunt, spreading my legs and easing them up over your shoulders. Immediately, you plunge your tongue into me, tasting me. I feel my own juices trickle from me, tickling down to my asshole, which you catch with your tongue and make me moan aloud. You tease the tender spot with your tongue before sliding it back inside my cunt, fucking me deeply.

My clit aches to be touched, and I reach down to stroke it, rubbing the little kernel between two fingers. You stop what you’re doing and watch me touch myself, kissing the soft skin of my inner thighs. When my hips start to squirm, you gently move my hand. “Let me,” you say and lower your head again, smiling up at me as I lick my fingers clean. You press your tongue flat against my clit and use the same motions I used with my fingers, mimicking the speed and pressure I used and making me moan anew. You slide two fingers inside me, curving them upwards in search of my g-spot.

The firm, even pressure deep inside calls forth my pleasure from a place far away, but it’s coming fast and hard. I feel myself lose control as your fingers massage and manipulate my very core, stimulating me in ways few have been able to. My palms slap against the countertop as I brace myself for the orgasm that breaks inside me, my muscles clenching deep within. I know you can feel that deep spasming and you keep stroking me, pressing the magic spot until the pulses have slowed. Your lips go around my clit and you suck; your tongue is about to bring me around again. A second time, this time on the surface, the spasms and throbs of pleasure are radiating outward, fluttering and pulsing quick and hard and fast, a high counter-melody to the first deep climax.

My cum is running over your hand, and as you slide your fingers out of me, it gushes forth, leaving a wet puddle beneath me.

You stand, and I wrap my arms and legs around you, kissing you deeply and tasting myself on your lips…

From “Deflowered”

01 Monday Oct 2012

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Here’s a little tease from a story that is going to be published in an upcoming anthology of “Mad Scientist Erotica” by Circlet Press called For Science! It’s the tale of a shy botanist who gets very into his work. This is actually a bit that was cut from the final story, but I liked how it read in its long form, so you get to have it here. 

*****

Bill sighed and made sure the front door was tightly locked for the night before switching off the lights and heading up to bed. He made his way through the dark, empty house on instinct, knowing each tread of the staircase like the back of his hand.

The air under the eaves was close and stuffy, and he looked forward to the cooler air the impending rains were promising to leave in their wake. He opened the windows of his bedroom wide to let in any stray breeze that might be passing before he snapped on the bathroom light and readied himself for bed.

He went through the same motions he did every evening, with no adjustment or variation to his routine. He changed into clean pajama bottoms and a fresh, white t-shirt, stowing his dirty clothes neatly in the hamper. He washed his face and dried it, hanging the damp towel back on the towel bar to dry. He began to brush his teeth, squirting a glob of ice blue toothpaste on the brush and raising it to his mouth.

A thought ran through his head on tiny mouse feet, scurrying and scuttling out of the dark, littered places of his brain. It ran across the clean white surfaces of his consciousness before disappearing back into the shadows.

No woman will ever be interested in someone like you.

The man in the mirror made eye contact with him, and he stopped mid-motion. He squinted at his reflection, peering closer to the face he looked at every day, then stepped back, his toothbrush frozen in mid-air. He set it down on the sink, not caring that the blue gel slipped off the bristles and smeared on the pristine white porcelain.

He squinted again, and appraised his reflection with a critical eye and a scientist’s powers of observation, wondering where that harsh assessment of himself came from. It was certainly unlike him. In general, he was content with his appearance, and the fact that a very few women had ever succumbed to his awkward advances generally didn’t bother him that much. He was under no illusions that he was a smoldering sex god sent to drive women wild, but he certainly was far from unattractive by any measurable standard.

Sure, there were things he would change if he could. He wished, for one thing, that he looked a little closer to his actual age. When friends took him out for some beers on his fortieth birthday, the waitress insisted on checking his ID because she said he didn’t look old enough to drink. It was a fair assessment. Even with day’s growth of stubble, he still looked like a hairy fifteen-year old.

There had to be something else. He peeled off his shirt and let it drop to the floor. He flexed in the mirror, noting well-developed biceps and pecs and admitting that he was a little thicker around the middle since turning 40 than he liked. Still, he was far from doughy, and he kept himself in better-than-average shape overall for a middle-aged guy. He pulled the waistband of his cotton pants out and peered down at his genitals. He shrugged at his utter unremarkableness, and let the elastic constrict with a soft snap. There was nothing he could do about that.

He sighed and reached down for his shirt. He was about to put it back on, but decided that it was too warm and sticky for it and dropped it in the hamper. He cleaned the toothpaste off the sink and rinsed his toothbrush before reloading it and brushing his teeth for exactly two minutes.

Leaving his bathroom much as he’d found it, he turned off the light and lay down on top of the covers, taking his glasses off and setting them carefully on his nightstand. The breeze was picking up outside and he could hear the poplar trees dancing as the rain approached from the west, turning over their leaves and showing their silvery undersides. An occasional gust caused the heavy air in the room to move, and while it wasn’t yet refreshing, it did relieve some of the stuffiness. It also caused the lightweight jersey of his pants to stir and brush against him, and the sudden sensation caused him to think of a woman’s soft hand, seeking him in the dark.

He closed his eyes and thought of Maria, allowing himself to fantasize about her. He pictured her lying next to him; it was too warm and humid to make love, but in his imagination, she would want to bring him pleasure anyway.

His cock hardened with anticipation, and he reached down, stroking his hand over it through the fabric, feeling its warmth as it thickened under his light touch. Hooking his thumbs in his waistband, he slid his pants down, freeing his erection as a gust of cooler air swirled through the room. He kicked them off and stretched out again, imagining his own hand was hers wrapped around his cock.

He stroked gently at first, teasing the shaft, running his thumb over the sensitive tip. He pictured her in his mind, lying next to her, her dark curls loose and free in a dark halo around her face. She would lean on one elbow, looking at him as the pleasure he was feeling played out over his face. He smiled slightly, and he increased the pressure on his cock, moaning a little and encouraging her to continue.

In the distance, he could hear the wind blowing hard through a stand of tall pines and he could smell the rain on the air. His cock oozed a bit of precum, making it slippery in his fist and his hips twitched, thrusting as his body’s own fluid offered just the right about of lubrication.

The pleasure in him built, the aching in his balls making them hard and tight, and he could feel the need for release growing ever more urgent. He used long, firm strokes, moaning with pleasure, imagining the sound of her lilting voice in his head urging him to come for her, whispering endearments in a language he barely understood, using words that required no translation.

As the first huge drops of rain splatted against his screen, he felt his orgasm approach. He moaned aloud, knowing he had reached the breaking point, the sweet moment when he was going to come no matter what. The skies opened up, soaking the overlong grass and drowning out his deep groan of pleasure as his cock exploded in his hand, and he felt the hot jets of semen wash over his bare torso.

He lay still, listening to the rain pound against the greenhouse roof, feeling his cock throb weakly in his hand, then soften as the waves of pleasure receded. The air felt cooler and his body shone with a fine sheen of perspiration. He opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling. His body felt heavy, but so did his heart.

He rose, retrieving his pajama bottoms from the floor and going into the bathroom where he deposited them in the hamper. He showered, letting the cool water wash the sweat and slippery secretions down the drain. He stood for a long time in the stinging spray with his eyes closed, his forehead pressed against the glass shower door.

Bill slept fitfully. The voice in his head refused to be silent, mocking him as he tossed and turned alone in his bed. When dawn’s first rays were breaking over the horizon, his eyes opened, and with a groan, he gave up the battle with sleep and sat up. His corneas felt like they were coated with fine grit sandpaper and every muscle in his body ached. His sheets were tangled and rumpled, and he sighed, sitting on the edge of the bed with his head in his hands, his fingers pressed to his throbbing temples.

He had fought with the voice in his head all night, pushing back as it berated him, accusing him of being less of a man than an average 13-year-old girl, and making sure he knew that he lacked the balls to actually ask a woman out–any woman, not just a goddess like Maria. It might have been fatigue, or just the simple fact that it had been a lot of lonely years since there had been anyone’s hand on his cock besides his own, but by the time he was seated at his kitchen table, alone with a hot cup of coffee and a slice of toast with peanut butter on it, he felt as low as he had in a week.

He chewed his toast thoughtlessly, staring out the window at the grass and decided it could wait another day, the same way he had the previous Friday, the morning after thoughts of Maria had caused him to act like a horny teenager yet again. He sighed, hating the pattern he had slipped into, wanting to get out of it, but knowing deep down that the voice in his head was right: he didn’t have the balls. The only place he was truly happy was out in his greenhouse–a fragile man, alone with his fragile plants.

The worst part, he thought, as he dumped the dregs of his cold coffee down the drain and threw away his uneaten crusts, was that not only was the voice right about him, but that at this time the following Friday, he would be sitting by himself in exactly the same spot, staring out at a lawn he didn’t feel like mowing, drinking black coffee that had gone cold on him, and not tasting the toast that he wouldn’t quite finish eating, feeling dirty, depressed, and very much alone.

From “Dirty Little Secret”

28 Friday Sep 2012

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This is an excerpt from the story “Dirty Little Secret” that is published in my book of erotic short stories, Not Safe for Work. A married man is having some issues at home and takes comfort in the arms of a much younger woman. 

*****

He walked up to the window and gave me that panty-dropping smile of his. I opened the small window and the sudden draft of cold air made my nipples stand right at attention, and right at his eye level too.

“I almost didn’t recognize you without your family,” I said, as nonchalantly as possible.

His eyebrows knit and then smoothed out quickly as an emotion I didn’t recognize flicked over his face and disappeared just as suddenly as it came. “My wife took the kids to her mom’s for a few days,” he explained.

“Oh,” I said, smiling. “And you had a craving for ice cream that you just couldn’t ignore, right?”

He smiled back, and that look flicked on and then off again. “Let’s just say it’s been the kind of day where a dish of ice cream served by the prettiest girl in town is just what I need.”

If my nipples hadn’t already been standing at full attention from the chilly night air, they would have popped up right then, like you read about. I gave him a saucy grin and said, “Prettiest? I don’t know about that…” I started. “You mean besides your wife, right?”

He shrugged and said nothing, but when his eyes met mine and locked there, I got the feeling that he might be up for a bit more than some playful flirting through a take-out window. I leaned in on my elbows and looked at him through the small opening. “Why do I get the feeling you’re here for more than just ice cream?” Again, I got a shrug that could have meant anything, really, and another one of those shy, sweet smiles of his. My heart thumped in my chest a little bit.

“You want to talk about it?” I asked. “I can let you in the side door. I was just about to close anyway.”

“Sure,” he said, sliding his hand across the formica counter and running his finger lightly along my forearm. “I’d like that.”

Before I gave myself even half a second to consider what I might or might not be doing, I shut the window and pulled the shades down that read “Closed”. I all but ran to the side door, stopping only long enough to hit the switches to kill the parking lot lights.

I opened the door and he was standing there in the soft light of the single bulb. I took a step back to let him in, and all at once he was so close to me I could feel his warmth. I closed the door behind us and locked it with a flick of my wrist. I turned, and in a heartbeat his arm was around my waist, pulling me close. His mouth was on mine, soft but insistent, and if I might have had any objections to what he was doing, I couldn’t think of them at that moment.

I wrapped my arms around his neck, and returned his kisses eagerly, a little overwhelmed by the rush of desire that was running from him and through me like an electrical current. His hands slid down the curve of my ass, cupping it and pulling me close to him, and I could feel his hardness against me. He gathered up the hem of my short, khaki skirt and ran his hands over my bare skin, sliding his hands inside my panties and kneading the warm, soft flesh.

I moaned a little in the back of my throat, enjoying his caresses and his obvious need for me. It stopped him short, and he pulled his mouth from mine, leaning back and looking into my eyes. He looked like he was about to say something, and then perhaps thought better of it, choosing instead to kiss me again, opening his mouth and seeking my tongue with his.

I was melting like a dish of ice cream left out on the counter, not that I would ever do that. I’m nothing if not a conscientious employee. Well, except for the whole having-sex-with-random-men-after-hours-on-the-counters thing.

The boss’ desk was right next to the side door and I leaned against it, my skirt sliding up as he pressed close to me, exploring all the soft curves of my body. My breath caught in my chest when his hands found my breasts. He murmured appreciatively as he scooped up warm, soft handfuls through the slightly sticky cotton of my t-shirt. “So nice,” he said softly.

“Would you like to see?” I asked, my voice almost a whisper.

“God, yes,” he replied, and I smiled and raised my arms over my head, allowing him to pull my shirt off. I leaned back on the desk, thrusting my breasts forward for him. He stroked the soft flesh where it swelled out over the pink, polka-dot satin cups, making me shiver slightly with excitement. He hooked his fingers inside the smooth fabric and pulled them down, allowing my tits to spill out and hang free and full. He ran his hands over them, obviously enjoying himself.

“You like?” I asked.

He nodded. “Very much.”

“Show me,” I replied.

I watched as he unbuttoned his jeans and slid the zipper down. His cock bulged in the opening, snug under the white cotton of his underwear and seeking an escape just under the elastic of the waistband. I ran my hand over the hard, warm outline of his erection, brushing my finger against the hot, throbbing head. It leapt at my touch and I smiled, stroking it gently through the slightly damp fabric.

“I need you,” he said softly, looking into my eyes.

“Take me,” I replied, pulling his cock free of his pants. I wrapped my hands around the warm, hard flesh and stroked him, making him moan anew. He slid his hands up my skirt and pulled my panties to the side, seeking my hard clit with his fingertips. I shuddered as he made contact, gasping with pleasure. He sought my opening, sliding his fingers easily into my tight, hot cunt. I moaned and bit my lip, raising my hips to urge him deeper inside me.

His arm slid around my waist as he pulled me to him, and I felt his cock hot and hard against my pussy. “Wait!” I said, even though every fiber of my being was screaming “Fuck me!” at the top of its lungs. He stopped, breathing hard and pulling away slightly. I exhaled, and scrambled around behind me on the desk looking for my purse. “Condom,” was all I could manage to get out, and he nodded with sudden understanding.

He laughed a little, helping me find a little foil packet in the pile of junk I’d dumped out of my bag. “Been a long time since I’ve needed one of these,” he confessed breathlessly.

“Let me,” I said, tearing it open and rolling it smoothly over his cock, making him groan with pleasure. I wrapped my legs around his waist and pulled him close. “Now, where were we?”

He guided the tip of his cock to my opening and pressed against me, slowly, almost hesitantly. He looked into my eyes and I watched a dark cloud of doubt cross his face that was so obvious I almost stopped him right there. The sudden sadness and compassion I felt the second I recognized it must have registered on my face as well, because like a cloud on a windy day, it slipped away as I watched him mentally shrug it off. He kissed me with renewed passion, trying to drown himself in my kisses, and God help me, I let him. I helped him.

As he breached the entrance and entered me, whatever defenses either of us might have had up a moment earlier slipped away.

He took me right there on the desk, surrounded by the gleaming stainless steel ice cream freezers and stark white walls. His need for me was urgent, and I held him close as he fucked me, driving his cock into me over and over again so hard that he lifted me off the desk with each thrust.

I knew I had ceased to be just a pretty, willing girl for him and that he was using me to tame some demons that were tormenting him–or perhaps in spite of them. There was something so desperate about the way he clung to me, his face buried in the soft curls at my neck, murmuring words I couldn’t quite hear or understand. I wanted to make him come, to bring him to the height of pleasure, to try to release him from whatever was driving him.

He felt so good inside me, his body so warm and heavy next to mine. We moved together in rhythm, my hips snapping up with each thrust, my lips against his ear urging him on with moans and whispers and sighs, begging him not to stop. I was getting so close to coming, going wild from the pressure mounting inside me. I told him what he was doing to me. “You’re going to make me cum,” I told him. “Oh God, I’m so close…don’t stop…”

I came hard, crying out as my pussy spasmed and throbbed around his cock. He put his hands on my face, looking into my eyes as I came, watching me lose control. He kept fucking me, each stroke long and deep, until I was spent. When he was sure I was satisfied, he moved faster, harder, and deeper, managing only a couple more thrusts until he came inside me, his cock swelling and exploding.

We were both breathing hard, and my legs slipped down. He pulled me close and held me, whispering, “I’m sorry. Oh, God, I’m so sorry…”

I stroked his hair and held him until I felt him soften inside me.

Gently, I reached down and eased him out, sliding the condom off. I was about to drop it into the garbage, but thought better of it. He busied himself with tucking his still sticky and half-hard cock back into his pants, and I saw him look at the used condom dangling from my fingers, and at my spent pussy, panties wet and pulled off to the side, accusing him. He stepped back, his face flush and his eyes averted and I hopped up, dropping the condom into a take-out cup and putting a few napkins in and the lid on before dropping it into the trash. Just in case.

Quickly I yanked my bra up and pulled my skirt down, and he handed me my shirt from the desk. As I turned it right side out, he spoke. “I’m sorry…” he began, but this time I stopped him.

“Don’t.” I said, gently. “Please don’t apologize.”

“I shouldn’t have…”

“Don’t be silly,” I continued, pulling my shirt back on. “Of course you should have.” I slipped my hand in his and squeezed it warmly. He looked into my eyes again and I smiled at him. “Maybe you’re ready to talk now?” I asked, and he smiled back with a sweet, embarrassed smile and nodded gratefully.

“I’d like that,” he said.

I grabbed a scoop from the sink. “Go on and sit down,” I said, flipping open the freezer lid with a bang. “I’ll buy you an ice cream.”

From “Dirty Little Secret” published in its entirety in Not Safe for Work, available at Amazon.com in paperback and for the Kindle, and at Barnes and Noble.com for the Nook.

Home, James

27 Thursday Sep 2012

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This is a sequel of sorts to “Tight Security,” though it really goes off on a tangent more than it continues it. I had planned to keep spinning new stories off the old ones, but never got around to it. Maybe soon…

“Jeremy.”

“Yes, Mistress.”

“It seems that very handsome young security guard just ejaculated on my window.”

“Yes, Mistress.”

“I will be very disappointed if his semen mars the finish.”

“Of course, Mistress. Shall I use a cloth?”

“What do you think, Jeremy.”

She watched him get out of the driver’s seat and tug on the tails of his chauffeur’s coat, putting his cap on, and shutting the door behind him. She watched as he bent and licked the congealing cum off her window, his tongue flat and pink against the gray glass.

As he worked, she spread her legs and hiked her skirt up, exposing her smooth, bare pussy. She diddled her clit lightly, feeling it spring to attention and smiled. Her cunt grew slick as she played with herself, her nipples hard and straining and very visible under the lightweight silk of her couture blouse. Jeremy swallowed mouthfuls of jism, finally licking his lips and standing at attention by her window.

She rolled it down and slowly unbuttoned her blouse, stroking her hands over the nipples that peeked out of the lace edge of her shelf bra, watching her firm, full breasts jiggle and sway with every slight move. “All done, Jeremy?”

“Yes, Mistress.”

“Come around to the other side of the car and join me in the backseat.”

“Yes, Mistress.”

Jeremy did as he was instructed and opened the back door, carefully putting his cap on the front seat and smoothing his hair before entering. She turned to face him, offering him her dripping pussy. “Would you like something to cleanse your palate, Jeremy?” she asked.

“Yes, Mistress,” he replied, his voice husky with desire. Knowing he wanted her, wanted to please her, sent a thrill coursing through her lithe frame and she shuddered despite herself.

“You may eat my pussy, Jeremy,” she said, and he quickly slipped to the floor beside the long bench seat. He wedged his slight frame in behind the front seat, and leaned forward, pulling her legs apart and pressing his face to her sweet, fragrant center.

She moaned as his tongue found her aching hole and she ran her hands through his dark curls, pressing his head into her cunt. He fastened his lips around her clit and sucked it, drawing it in between his teeth and applying pressure until she cried out.

“Put your fingers in me Jeremy, and make me cum,” she instructed, and he did as he was told, sliding his long fingers into her and drawing out another moan of pleasure. “Very nice,” she said, praising him as she petted his head. She closed her eyes and let Jeremy bring her to the brink of orgasm, his fingers and tongue working skillfully in all the ways she had trained him.

He knew how to hold her hips as she climaxed and how to press his lips against her to receive the copious gush of sweet, sea-funky fluid that accompanied her pleasure without letting so much as a drop touch the fine, leather seats. He swallowed her flood of juices eagerly, licking her clean until the shuddering and bucking stopped. When she lay still, she allowed him to button her blouse and straighten her skirt.

Sated, she sat up and smiled at him, still kneeling in complete supplication beside her. She raised her hand to his smooth, brown cheek and stroked it gently. “Well, done, Jeremy,” she said. “Tell me, is your cock hard?”

“Yes, Mistress,” he said, his cheeks turning slightly pink.

“How lovely,” she said. “You have my permission to step outside the car and relieve yourself,” she said. “You’ve earned it.” He nodded, still blushing, and rose. As he backed out of the car, she reminded him, “Make sure you stand right there where I can see you, and you’d better make it quick so no one sees you. Oh, and don’t forget your hat,” she finished, gesturing at the front seat.

Jeremy put his hat back on and stepped outside the car, shutting the door. Through tinted windows she smiled at his visible discomfort as he looked around nervously. He pulled his long, slender cock out and began stroking it furiously, closing his eyes and obviously concentrating on finishing the job before anyone came along.

She watched his cock bob in the air, and how his eyebrows knit together in frustration as his erection began to fail. She knew he was considering his punishment for not following her directions, and as his eyes filled with tears, she almost took pity on him for a second. Then she thought of the hours of fun she would have paddling his soft, feminine ass, fucking him with dildos for hours, and how she’d torture him to the edge of orgasm over and over until he begged for mercy.

She was so lost in the fantasy that she didn’t notice the security guard approach her car. Jeremy started suddenly and quickly tried to conceal his rapidly softening cock, but the damage had been done. This was not the young, wanton guard from before, but an older, paunchy, dough-skinned excuse for a man who was perspiring from the mere exertion of apprehending the delicate Jeremy.

She rolled down her window and addressed the security guard. “Is there a problem, Officer?” she asked.

He looked in and saw her reclining like a cat in the backseat. He tipped his hat back to reveal his receding, greasy hairline and she recoiled inwardly. “Yes, Ma’am” he replied. “I caught this pervert outside your car here.”

She smiled a cold smile. “Yes, Officer. Young Jeremy belongs to me. I apologize if he’s been a bother. I promise you he won’t get away with this…abomination.”

“I’m sorry, Ma’am,” he said, his eyes raking over her form. “I have to call this in to the local precinct. You’ll be able to pick him up in about 6 hours, after his arraignment.”

She sighed. “Very well.” Jeremy looked panic-stricken. “Jeremy, dear. Please be on your best behavior, just like I taught you. Do everything this nice officer tells you, and I’ll see you in a little while. Make me proud.” Jeremy blinked away a tear and nodded. “That’s a good boy.” She rolled up the window and watched as the fat guard led the winsome Jeremy away. She fished her cell phone out of her bag and with manicured fingers, dialed her office.

“Maria. I need a replacement driver here immediately. Yes. And call my lawyer and tell him to meet me at the local precinct for JFK. Yes, the airport, Maria.”

She ended the call with a gentle beep and waited for Jeremy’s replacement.

Tight Security

25 Tuesday Sep 2012

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So I had been out of work for what seemed like for-fucking-ever when I finally landed a job at JFK as a security guard in the parking structures. It’s not the best job in the world, but it’s a steady paycheck and it’s not like the work is hard. It’s a lot of walking around and keeping an eye out for suspicious activity. Of course anyone planning on doing anything bad is already suspicious himself, so he’s not doing it when I get there, but whatever, man. I don’t care. Money is money at this point.

The other guys who’ve been doing this a lot longer have some fucking ridiculous stories about the stuff they’ve caught people doing in the parking garage. Hot stuff, too. Seriously fucked up shit, in fact; but then if you could actually managed to get it up in that cold, gray concrete car zoo that smells like piss and exhaust fumes, you’d have to be a freak.

At least that’s what I thought up until last week.

I’m walking around, doing my usual rounds, and not seeing much of anything going on. It was chilly that day, it had been drizzling most of the morning so the wet tires were squealing more than usual as they turned the corners. If you’ve ever been in a parking garage on a wet day, you know what I mean. It sounds like someone’s stepping on a cat, and after awhile, it’s all you can hear.

The noise must be the reason I didn’t hear them at first, or why they didn’t hear me coming. I turned the corner and saw a guy out there with his lady friend. Her eyes were closed and her head was back, and at first I couldn’t quite see what was going on. But I got a step closer and caught sight of one luscious, creamy tit hanging out there in the cold. The guy leaned close and took that sweet, hard nipple in his mouth and I was all, “HELLO.”

Now, I knew I should get in there and break it up. As soon as I knew what they were up to, I should have stopped it. But her face was so beautiful. Her mouth was open slightly and she was breathing hard, and she would lick her lips making them red and shiny. I could tell that she was so turned on that she didn’t care who was looking, and before I knew it, I was rock hard. My cock was straining against my zipper and I had to reach down and adjust a bit.

I know it’s wrong, but I slipped behind one of the big, concrete support pillars and shielded myself behind a nearby Suburban. I watched the guy as he slipped a hand down her pants, and I could tell just by the way she squirmed and moaned that he found her clit and was going to town on it. He was fingering her like a violin and she was going fucking nuts.

She had her hands all over his crotch, fumbling with the button, and I have to tell you, mine throbbed in sympathy. I reached down and stroked myself through my polyester uniform pants and thought I’d cum right then and there. She was rubbing him through his pants, humping his hand, and when she opened her sweet mouth and sucked his tongue, I couldn’t stand it anymore. My mouth was dry and my cock was so hard it hurt. I went to unzip my pants and rub one out, but my nightstick banged against the side of the Suburban and made a huge, metallic bang.

Her eyes flew open and I didn’t have much of a choice at that point. I cleared my throat and walked up and hoped to hell they couldn’t see my dick was at full attention. “Everything okay over here?” I asked, trying to look imposing and not like a kid in a costume with a raging boner.

It must have worked, because he turned around, yanking his hands out of her cunt so fast I could see her pussy juice still shining on his fingers. He yanked the tails of his flannel shirt down and stuffed his hands in his pockets, but I could see that he was as hard as I was, and his cock was at least as big. When I looked up, the girl had zipped her pants and I caught sight of that beautiful, big tit as it disappeared inside her sweater. She was blushing and shaking a little and in my mind I could see how hot she’d be wrapped around my cock, her legs tight around my waist as I drilled her up against her boyfriend’s truck. Her tits would be bouncing around and she’d scream my name as she came…

I shook my head and stammered something about them having to do that somewhere else, and they nodded guiltily. I think she even called me “sir.” I walked away, but I had to look back over my shoulder. She looked every bit as hot as she had before I’d interrupted and I hoped they’d take their chances and finish up, but they caught me looking and got into his truck.

I heard them leave, and I knew they were off the floor when the tires of his truck cat-squealed on the wet concrete. I stopped walking and leaned against a minivan to catch my breath and compose myself. I couldn’t remember the last time I was that turned on. My dick felt ready to explode.

I looked around quickly, and seeing no one, I slipped between the van and a black sedan and unzipped my pants. I pulled my cock out and grabbed it, stroking it hard. “Oh God,” I said, and my voice echoed and bounced around the cars in the enclosure. I bit my lip and ran my hand through the spunk that was already drooling out of the tip and started milking my cock for all it was worth. Every shriek of tires made me jump a little and I hammered away at my dick, scared of being caught, scared of losing my job, scared of being arrested for indecent exposure, but nowhere near scared enough to stop.

I came harder than I ever had before. My balls tightened up in the cold air of the garage and I had to lean on the car so that my legs wouldn’t give out under me. My cum shot out in long, white curving arcs and splattered on the tinted windows of the shiny black car. “Oh, God,” I said again, both from the exquisite, throbbing, pounding release of my orgasm and because I realized I’d left slimy gobs of my DNA all over a brand new Mercedes.

Embarrassed and ashamed, and not having anything to clean it up with, I tucked my sticky, still-hard cock back in my pants and got the hell out of there as fast as I could, looking all around and hoping no one saw me.

I didn’t think to check inside the car, though. And in this story, that’s where the fine line between really bad luck and fortunate accident is.

The Next Morning

19 Wednesday Sep 2012

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This is a sequel to the short story, “In Ms. B’s Bunk“.

“Do you really have to leave?”

Her head peeked around the shower curtain and she smiled at me, her eyes still heavy-lidded from lack of sleep. Her bed-tousled hair was sexy and I wanted to run my hands through it, pulling her close again, feeling her lips on mine. But the drive was a long one, and I was late getting started as it was.

“Unfortunately,” I replied, closing my eyes and tipping my face into the spray, letting the hot water soak my hair and wash the sleep out of my foggy, fuzzy brain. The curtain fell back into place with a wet whisper and I heard the splash of her feet on the tub floor behind me. In an instant, her arms were around me, holding me close, her soft, warm body pressed tightly to mine.

Her hands flitted over my skin, cupping my breasts and tugging gently at the nipples that had grown hard at the sound of her voice. My body had already learned how to respond to her, trained over hours of touching, stroking and kneading. I melted into her, unable and unwilling to resist the touch of her bare skin on mine. Her lips were soft on my shoulder, kissing me in a trail soft as butterfly footprints to my neck, to the sensitive spot behind my earlobe that made shivers run up and down my spine all night long. “It’s going to be awhile before you can come back,” she reminded me in a low voice, her breath warm on my ear.

It was going to be a long time before I would feel her knowing hands on my body again, a long time before I’d hear her soft voice whispering sweet, sexy, dirty words in my ear. It would be a long time before I would feel her precious lips on mine, make her nipple grow hard in my mouth, taste the musky sweetness of her pussy on my tongue. It made my heart ache, and my clit burn.

The snap of a plastic bottle opening brought me back to reality, and I breathed deeply the smell of coconut as her strong fingers worked the shampoo into a thick lather and massaged my scalp. I leaned my head back, letting her wash my hair. Life was so easy with her in control. Part of me wanted to stay and let her take care of me, but there were kids at home who needed me, babies who needed their hair washed, and a husband expecting to put his hands where hers had been. There were people who needed me to take care of them.

The soap ran down my body in thick, white streams, making my skin slick and slippery. She turned me around and I tipped my head back into the spray, closing my eyes against the stinging lather. Her hands were on me again, sliding around the curves of my ass and pulling me close to her. Her soft breasts pressed against mine and I grabbed them hungrily.

Right now she needed me, and for the moment, I was hers.

I gave into the desire. I ran my hands through her hair, feeling it silky between my fingers, pulling her mouth to mine. I tasted her hungrily. In her soft lips still swollen from lovemaking and in her searching tongue, all the passion we had shared, and all the pent-up longing and long-distance teasing before that, and the sweet ache of not knowing when she would be mine again mingled in pulsing currents between us.

I slid my hand between her legs and parted her lips, stroking her clit. She was so ready for me. I pressed her against the shower wall, letting the hot water wash over our bodies. She was slick and tight as I slid into her, hitting her most sensitive spots and making her arch into my hand. With my free hand I played with the silver barbell through her nipple, tugging it gently and making her moan into my open mouth. “What am I going to do when you’re gone?”

I didn’t answer her with words. I didn’t know how to say that she should savor this pleasure and store it up so she could pull it out when she was feeling alone. I kissed her sweet lips and used my hands the way she’d taught me, guiding me patiently over her pleasure centers, showing me what feels good to her over and over again until we slept in each other’s arms.

I no longer needed a map. Our first time–my first time–was far behind me, and I wanted to make this beautiful woman come over and over again. Or at least one more time. I stroked my fingers inside her, curling them deep within, feeling her clench around me. Her breath was shallow and fast, and her hips jerked against me. I needed to taste her again.

I pulled my fingers out of her and she sighed, opening her eyes, waiting breathlessly for me.

I put them in my mouth and tasted her, and she groaned as I smiled.

I knelt before her, running my hands over her curves, trying to memorize every inch of her soft, precious skin. I teased the little nest of curls between her legs, watching intently as she spread her legs for me and put one foot up on the side of the tub. Her shiny pink slit parted, and the silver loop through her plump nether lip beckoning to me. I kissed it and felt her shudder, and I let my lips linger on her sensitive clit for just a minute, before parting the rosy folds with my tongue and tasted her in earnest.

Her hands were on my head, caressing me as I sucked her sweet pussy, licking it, stroking her hard, berry-like clit with my flattened tongue. She was moaning with every breath, pressing me to her, coming too quickly.

I slid my fingers back inside her and she groaned. “Just let go, baby,” I told her, working her cunt hard, probing her deeply. My tongue and lips danced on the center of her pleasure, recalling her gentle direction and no longer needing it. She was mine, and I was going to make her come, make her tremble in my hands and hold her as she spiraled out of control, if only for a blessedly brief time.

My own cunt was swollen with desire and my clit throbbed painfully. I pressed my thighs together, the taste of her juices running over my tongue and down my arm bringing me to the edge. I needed to feel her come for me first. I slipped a third finger inside her, spreading her wider and making her moan and thrust against me again.

“I don’t want to,” she said, her voice husky with desire, shaking her head side to side, even as her hands urged me to continue. “I don’t want it to end.” But it was too late. Her last word dissolved into a cry as she came, her cunt spasming around my finger. Deep contractions and a warm gush of fluid in my mouth, hands in my hair, her leg around my shoulders, pulling me into her center.

Her eyes flashed under heavy lids, and I stood, but she turned away from my kiss. “Don’t,” I said, cupping her chin in my hand and kissing her, letting her taste herself on my lips. Her tears were salty as they fell and I kissed them away. “It’s not forever,” I said, holding her close, letting the water wash over us. “This is just the beginning of our story, love.”

The Thrill of the Hunt

10 Monday Sep 2012

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“Don’t turn around. Just hand me the money and I won’t have to hurt you.” Nick spoke calmly and quietly, pressing the muzzle of a revolver into the small of the woman’s back to make his point.

She froze. They always froze. “Hurry up,” Nick commanded, snapping his victim out of her shock. His carefully laid plans allowed for only a few minutes to get the money and get the hell out of there without getting caught. A police siren wailed in the distance and even though he knew they weren’t coming for him this time, his tension level rose perceptively. He forced himself to concentrate on his breathing and staying relaxed and focused. The cops weren’t going to arrest him just because he lost his shit at every little noise. He dug the gun harder into her back, and with a whimper she took the bills out of the ATM and held them up with shaking hands. He grabbed the cash and said, “The bag, too,” pulling her purse off of her shoulder. “Now you just keep standing right there and count to a hundred,” he ordered.

“One, two, three,” she began in a shaky voice. Nick tore out of there, shoving the gun and the twenty-dollar bills into his pocket as he ran. He rounded the corner into an alley, then slipped through an opening in the chain-link fence that surrounded the loading dock of an abandoned warehouse. He crouched down behind the crumbling concrete wall, hidden by darkness and debris, and listened for the sound of footsteps or voices. When he heard none, he took a deep breath and quickly unzipped his sweatshirt. Moving fast, he pulled a black backpack from behind a pile of rubble and quickly stuffed his hoodie into it. He shoved the purse into the backpack as well, and running his fingers through his hair, he put the backpack on and slipped through the shadows out a second opening in the fence.

Half a block to the west, the bars and clubs were packed and the night life was in full swing. Nick walked calmly and with purpose toward the music and the lights. In five minutes he had melted into the city’s sea of humanity, while less than two blocks east an angry blonde tried to give his description to the police, but had to admit that she “didn’t get a good look at the guy.”

Nick knew there were easier ways to make a few bucks, but few were as satisfying or half as exciting. Nothing got the adrenaline flowing like picking a victim, helping yourself to their stuff, all the while knowing you could get caught at any time. The first time he realized that he was in the clear, that he’d committed armed robbery and got away with it, he was both startled and amused to realize he was half-hard from the excitement of it all, a reaction he hadn’t expected but had come to crave. It wasn’t even about the money anymore.

The best nights were when, after disappearing into the crowd, he’d see a handful of uniformed cops walking around asking people if they’d seen a guy in a hooded sweatshirt come running through with a woman’s purse. Of course, no one had, but he had to hand it to them for at least trying. It was after his second or third robbery that one of the cops had approached him. His heart pounded and his mouth went dry as he was questioned and he imagined he could feel the stolen purse in his backpack burning him between his shoulder blades.

The officer’s blue eyes bored through his own and looked into his thoughts, but he didn’t look away. Without blinking, he replied, “I haven’t seen anything out of the ordinary tonight,” which was only a half-lie. The officer thanked him and moved on, repeating his questions to a couple nearby. His erection strained against his jeans and he shuddered as the thrill coursed through him. He ducked into an alley and hid in the shadows behind a dumpster. He pulled out his cock and stroked it furiously until he came, leaning against the building with one arm and splattering his seed all over the dirty bricks.

No police were on the scene tonight, so he milled around in the crowd looking in store windows for awhile, letting the ebb and flow of the foot traffic carry him along. He brushed past people, bumping them slightly and smiling in apology. “Sorry,” he’d say, and a charge would course through him as he’d be forgiven time after time. The physical contact acted on him like a drug, sharpening his senses and making his nerve endings tingle. He never failed to get aroused by the post-robbery social interaction, and the more people he could pull unwittingly into his game, the hotter it made him. He walked around until he could stand it no more; only when he was fully erect and the need for release reached the point of pain would he slip into the subway and make his way home.

Nick let himself into the empty apartment and locked the door behind him. He crossed the small studio space and pulled the backpack open, dumping the contents onto the bed. He pulled everything out of the purse and emptied the wallet. Glassy-eyed, he ran his hands through the lot of it, arranging and rearranging the driver license, credit cards, and pictures of families and pets on top of the comforter. He picked up her hairbrush and pressed it to his lips, inhaling her scent. He rubbed it against his erection through his pants before placing it back on the bed.

Finally, when he had touched everything he had stolen and had it arranged the way he wanted it, he stripped slowly and seductively, dragging out his pleasure. He lay down on the bed and stretched naked in the middle of the night’s take. He closed his eyes and wrapped his hand around his cock and replayed the images in his mind.

Give me the money…I don’t want to hurt you…count to a hundred…

He recalled how they always shuddered with his gun pressed into their backs. The women–always young, pretty women with expensive shoes and expensive bags. Women with shiny hair and slender waists, and manicured hands that trembled as they gave him what he wanted. Women with soft voices that whimpered as they surrendered to him and quivered with fear when they begged him not to hurt them.

Nick stroked his cock slowly, feeling strong and powerful as it pulsed hard and hot in his hand. He thought about how he was taking more than some cash or a few personal items. He took their security. They were going to think of him when they asked their building managers to change their locks and cut new keys for them. They were going to think of him when they called to cancel their credit cards. And they were going to think of him every time they walked past a cash machine.

He moaned as he milked the precum from his cock and used it to lube his fist. His excitement grew as he pictured a beautiful blonde with a smart, new bag approaching a well-lit ATM and shaking as she punched in her new PIN code. She’d tremble all over again as she took the cash, and then she’d look over her shoulder, feeling his presence and reliving the fear.

He could see her scared expression in his mind’s eye, as real as if she was in the room. He came with a grunt, shooting hot gobs of cum onto his smooth, bare chest, thinking of the sadness in her eyes as she walked away, willing her hands to shop shaking and her breathing to return to normal.

In Ms. B’s Bunk

05 Wednesday Sep 2012

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I don’t know why I’m drawn to her. I can’t pin down what makes me think about her…dream about her…long for the touch of her strong hands on my body.

I’m not a lesbian.

Not that there’s anything wrong with that.

I’m not attracted to women. Most women. But I’m attracted to her. Oddly.

Strangely.

I find her sexuality compelling.

When it got to be too much for me to bear, I sought her out.

I told her what I wanted, how I felt. How she makes me feel. Confused. Amused. Aroused. Oh, always aroused.

Curious.

She invited me to spend the night. In my own room, a quiet place to sit and write with no distractions.

No distractions. Just her. Sexy. Funny. Sweet. Kind.

Sexy.

Sitting with me on the sofa with a puppy draped across our laps. Her large, soft breasts barely contained beneath her simple cotton camisole. Nipples hard, visible…tempting. Both of us knowing why I’m really there, but neither one saying it.

Butterflies in my stomach.

She looks at me and smiles. Dimples make me melt and I smile back, shyly. She takes my hand in hers and just holds it. It’s warm, and soft, but strong. I feel safe. After a minute of not saying anything, she squeezes my hand, and I squeeze it back. She stands, and the dog reluctantly moves, stretching and lying down in the warm spot she’s left. I stand too, and without a word, she leads me to her bedroom.

We stand together, hands clasped.

“I’m nervous,” I confess.

She squeezes my hand again. “Don’t be.”

I don’t move, and she smiles again, that sweet, dimpled grin. “You’ve had a massage before,” she asks, knowing the answer is yes, but I nod. “I’ll go out for a minute. You get undressed as much as your comfortable with and lie down under the sheet. I’ll give you a massage. And if you don’t like it, I’ll stop.”

“Okay,” I agree, but my mouth is dry.

She goes out and I slip out of my short nightgown. Naked, I lie down on my stomach and pull the sheet up to my neck. I try to relax, but I can feel my heart pounding in my chest. There’s a pounding much lower, too. Throbbing. Anticipating.

I hear her come in and shut the door with a soft click. The light is already low, and she turns on some music. No words. No real tune. But musical. Soft.

I feel her weight beside me on the mattress. My eyes are closed. I don’t know what she’s doing. I don’t know if I want to see.

I smell an exotic scent. Sandalwood, maybe. Or a spice. I don’t know. I can’t tell. It’s nice. Deep, not cloying. Not heavy.

Sexy.

Her hands are gentle as they slide the sheet down just a bit, leaving me covered. Then they are on me. Oily. Slick. Sliding over my skin easily. Firm, even strokes. Almost painful, but not quite. Soothing. Powerful.

My shoulders relax…my neck…my back. The sheet slides lower. I don’t realize she’s moved it.

Her hands work the muscles of my lower back. Not deeply, not painfully. Almost, but not quite. Her hands rub the oil into my skin, making me feel soft and pliable, and I am. Her hands are on my hips, exploring the curves of my ass, and I don’t mind. It feels good. My body feels alive. I don’t know what I want, but I know I don’t want her to stop touching me.

Ever.

Her hands find mine, tucked down by my sides. She runs her hands up my forearms, moving them away from my body and up over my head. Biceps. Triceps. All the muscles I don’t know the names of. She does, and she pays attention to them all, making me aware of them.

Down again, back to my shoulders. Hands on my spine. Hands on my shoulder blades. Hands caressing the soft skin where my breasts begin. My waist. My hips again. Fingers lingering in the warm, deep cleft between my legs, then away before my brain has time to think about it.

I feel the sheet shift and she tells me in a low voice to roll over. I do.

It does not occur to me to do otherwise.

My breasts feel the cooler air in the room and I know my nipples are hard. I can’t see them because I won’t open my eyes, but I can feel them. They are tingling.

Her hands slide up my arms again, over familiar territory, before sliding back down, along my shoulders again, across the flat planes of my chest, lightly around the curves of my breasts. I take a deep breath as her hands gently rub oil into the soft tissue.

Her touch is electric.

I want her in the worst way.

It doesn’t occur to me that it is happening. I am having her. She is having me.

She kneads gently, scooping up the handfuls of flesh and tugging gently on the hard, pink points. Each stroke, each tug brings a sound from my throat. It’s a deep breath. Not quite a moan.

Until it is.

When she is drawing moans, her hands move south, over the soft flesh of my stomach. I frown, feeling self-conscious for the first time.

She speaks, and her voice is low and soothing.

“You’re beautiful,” she says in nearly a whisper, and I believe her.

She leans over me and takes a nipple in her mouth. I feel her teeth, but she doesn’t hurt me. Not quite. Her hands are moving…always moving…and she is running them between my thighs, skimming my soft mound of curls, sucking and nipping at my nipple and making me squirm beneath her.

My legs part on their own. I don’t remember moving them, spreading them for her, but they are open for her.

Offering.

Her hand seeks my warm center, parting the folds and caressing the slick, inner flesh with the same strong, soothing touch. Theraputic touch. My hips rise off the bed to meet her fingers. “Oh, God,” is all I can manage to say as she works my clit with fingers that feel warm as fire.

She kisses me…my breasts…my neck…the hollow of my collarbone…

My lips.

She tastes sweet.

Soft, but strong. Asking, offering…and I answer.

I yield. My lips part, accepting her, a “yes” to every unanswered question.

Yes. Dear God, yes.

I taste her tongue, feel her mouth working mine, teaching it to dance in ways it never has before.

My hips are bucking beneath her hand, wanting more, needing to feel her possess me. She dips into me briefly…one finger…then two…I can feel how wet she is making me…hear the sounds of her fingers inside me, on me, around me…

“Fuck me,” I whisper, opening my eyes only long enough to look into hers. She is lovely.

Lovable.

More kissing. Soft, insistent.

My neck. My breasts.

The soft expanses of my flesh are kissed, nibbled, licked…teased.

Hands move aside, parting my thighs and stroking the sensitive flesh.

Her lips are pressed lovingly against my clit. Again, in her low, soft voice, deeper and huskier this time, “You’re beautiful.”

The room spins as her lips and tongue dance over the sensitive skin. I don’t resist. I can’t. I’m grabbing her headboard, trying to stay connected to reality, but feeling it spinning out of my control.

Her fingers are inside me…filling me deep…her mouth is always moving…sucking and licking…

I can’t hold back. I want to.

I want it to last forever.

Pleasure building inside me like a glass being filled. My breath is coming in short gasps as she fucks me, filling me, pussy filling with pleasure until it can’t hold any more.

And it overflows.

I cry out, writhing beneath her as I come.

Deep spasms rippling through me…pleasure radiating out from my very center…her mouth and fingers working every last pulse, every throb, until I’m still.

But I’m not.

Slowly she slides her fingers out of me and I shudder, breathing hard, hands clenching the headboard.

She runs her hands up my arms and I remember to relax, letting my arms down and putting them around her. She is soft and warm beside me, and I taste myself on her as she leans close. I pull her to me and kiss her, tasting my own muskiness.

I am delicious.

I open my eyes and look at her. She is smiling, and she runs her hands lightly over my breasts, making goosebumps rise on my skin.

Tentatively, I touch her.

Her breasts are full and large and I stroke one gently through the thin fabric of her pajama top. Her nipples are hard and large and I tease them, pinching them in my fingertips. She closes her eyes briefly, enjoying the feeling, letting me find my way.

She is so lovely.

I pull the straps down on her cami, letting the fall against her arms. The soft fabric falls away, exposing the creamy tops of her breasts. I pull her to me, kissing them.

Kissing her soft, sweet breasts.

I take her nipple in my mouth…I’m not sure how hard to suck…what feels good.

I start gently, and she arches her back, so I suck harder.

She makes a little sound, and runs her fingers through my hair. I pull, stretching the soft skin and tugging on the hard point.

She moans.

I look at her. She is smiling.

I am doing well, I think.

She answers me with a kiss. This time she is yielding to me, offering herself, and I accept her.

Gladly.

My inexperience hand…my willing hand…slides over her soft curves.

She is beautiful.

“You are beautiful,” I say.

“Shut up,” she says, but she’s smiling.

I slide my hand into her pajama bottoms and feel her soft mound. My finger seeks her slit, and a slight gasp tells me that I’ve found it. I feel her wetness. She is soaked. Her cunt is ripe and full, and I plunge my fingers into her. It feels good, and she cries out. Pleasure. Need.

Passion.

How hard? How fast? How deep?

Her hand is on mine, guiding me. I don’t need to be gentle.

Firm strokes. Even strokes. Fingers inside.

One…two…

Her clit is a hard, slick berry beneath my fingers and I work it like a tiny cock. She moans, her hips thrusting against me.

She sets a rhythm and I meet it, plunging into her pussy, making her writhe and buck in my hands.

I suck her nipple into my mouth and she cries out, putting her hand on mine again as her thighs close.

Her glass has overflowed too.

I feel her cunt grip me. Fluttering from deep inside.

Then a slow throb and pulse.

Then a deep breath, and her thighs relax.

Gentle strokes, gently used…wet…musky…spent.

We lie together, not speaking. We kiss. We giggle. Our hands touch each other.

Friendly.

Intimate.

Loving.

Lovable.

Lunch Break

03 Monday Sep 2012

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His lunch break is only a half an hour, and she lives an hour and a half away.

Once a week he slips out of the office at lunchtime and they meet up somewhere away from prying eyes. He’s found a secluded spot behind a closed gas station, in the shadow of a crumbling whitewashed cinder block building, hidden from view by a rusted and sagging chain-link fence and tall, overgrown weeds. There’s no time for renting a comfortable room somewhere. She can’t chance her husband finding a receipt from a no-tell motel, even if there were any close and discreet enough to his office, and she has to get home and get the smell of sex off of her before the kids get off the bus. He can’t risk the temptation of a rented bed and willing partner, so it has to be quick.

And dirty.

It’s never a problem.

They slide into the backseat of her car, kicking aside a bike helmet and a few rumpled, coloring books. The waxy smell of crayons and the orange remains of fish-shaped crackers serve as less-than-subtle reminders that they’re no longer a couple of teenagers, even though the urgency with which they come together is adolescent–heedless and hedonistic. His hand is inside her shirt almost immediately, pulling her breasts out and tugging at her nipples, making her gasp. She can feel how hard he is through his pants, and she fumbles with his zipper, struggling to free him.

He laughs and says, “Let me,” and deftly pulls his cock out, stroking it like he does in the short phone-cam-recorded videos he makes just for her. She watches them after her husband and kids are in bed, and records some to send to him, taking pictures and writing him long, detailed emails about her sexy, dirty, hot, funky fantasies.

She doesn’t want to leave her comfortable life, and neither does he plan on abandoning his family for her.

Friends with benefits, the kids call it, and it suits them perfectly.

She pushes his hand out of the way and leans over, taking him in her mouth with no warning or explanation. None is required. He moans, running his hands down her back and gathering up the soft fabric of her skirt and pulling it out of his way. He finds the black lace panties she put on just for him and slides his hand inside, running his palms over the soft curve of her ass.

She’d love to keep sucking his cock, to taste him as he cums in her mouth, but there can be no long, drawn-out lovemaking between them, and a quick blowjob isn’t going to be enough. Not for either of them. Not today.

He guides her to his lap, pulling her panties to the side as she straddles his cock, taking him inside as far as he can go. He fills her perfectly and they sit together like that for a minute, his hands pushing her clothes out of the way, hers around his shoulders as his mouth finds her nipples. She squirms and grinds against him as he sucks them into hard, aching points.

They move together, his cock deep inside her, hitting all the secret, hidden spots that he knows will drive her wild. And it won’t take long. The pent-up desire and frustration needs an outlet, and like a current through a grounded wire, it’s found a short path through them. She tells him she’s close and that she’s going to be quick, her words a frenzied whisper in his ear.

His mouth is on hers, her hands twined in his hair, pulling him to her, his hips thrusting against her. He is determined to make her come first, and she’s in no position to argue with him as she feels the pleasure build to its breaking point. With a powerful throb, her orgasm bursts inside her like a bubble, and as she clenches tightly around his cock, she drenches him, soaking his open pants and crying out. She’s breathing hard, and so is he, and grabbing her hips, he drives hard into her…once…twice…and then he comes, his cock exploding, his hot cum mixing with hers in a slippery, ecstatic mess.

“We’ve got to stop meeting like this,” she says with a laugh, sliding wetly off his lap and running her thumb over the purple love bite starting to form right beside her left nipple.

“Yeah, I don’t think so,” he says, kissing the spot before pulling her shirt back into place. “See you next week?”

“Wouldn’t miss it.”