ALL & SUNDRY ONE BIG BOOK OF SMUT BY RACHEL BOLEYN * * * A SWEET NOTHINGS PRODUCTION All & Sundry: One Big Book of Smut Copyright © 2011 Rachel Boleyn...
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ALL & SUNDRY ONE BIG BOOK
OF SMUT BY RACHEL BOLEYN ***
A SWEET NOTHINGS PRODUCTION
All & Sundry: One Big Book of Smut
Copyright © 2011 Rachel Boleyn Cover Design by Rachel Boleyn Published by Sweet Nothings
This is a work of fiction. Any similarities to actual persons, alive or dead, are purely coincidental.
The material found in this eBook contains sexually explicit situations and is intended for a mature audience only.
All persons portrayed in this eBook are 18 years of age or older.
TABLE OF CONTENTS Her Best Friend's Dad: The Complete Collection Her Best Friend's Dad Her Best Friend's Dad 2
Her Best Friend's Dad 3 Her Best Friend's Dad 4 Her Best Friend's Dad 5 Bonus: The Mile High Club
Swingers: Gang Bang the Bride
His Naughty Little Girl
Daddy's Little Angel
Daddy's Lil' Devil
Dance for Daddy
Bad Bikers: Daddy's Little Girl Maybe When You're Older
Fly Like an Eagle Tongue and Torque
Got MILF? Sticking it to Mrs. DeWitt
Backstage Pass: World Tour Sticky Sweet
Face to Face Talk Dirty To Me Bang Bang Absolute Beginners Bonus: Fuckapalooza
Confessions of a Sex Addict: 12 Steps Back
HorrorErotik: The Complete Vampire Collection To Fuck a Vampire Vampire Porn Queen Vampire Love Slave Submit to the Vampire Bonus: Origins
His Dad's Best Friend
HER BEST FRIEND'S DAD THE COMPLETE COLLECTION
HER BEST FRIEND'S DAD
I'd been best friends with Becky Charles since the second grade, and we'd done practically everything together. Becky had gone on vacation with my family, and her parents had taken me with them to Disney World the year I was in tenth grade. They were like a second family to me, but after Becky's mom and dad split up, things were really crazy. It was impossible to tell where she might be found on the weekends. She
lived with her dad full-time, but weekend visits to her mom's house were sporadic. Three weeks before high school graduation Becky and I were supposed to be working on our final chemistry project together, but somewhere in the planning the lines of communication got seriously crossed. I showed up at her dad's house just after six o'clock, my knapsack hanging loosely over my right
shoulder as I knocked on the front door. The house was a little dark, which surprised me since I was sure she was expecting me. I knocked again, but no one answered, so I walked around the front of the house and peered through the living room window to see if anyone was home. I saw the back of Mr. Charles' head in the flickering light of the TV, and figured he just hadn't heard me knocking. Maybe Becky was
upstairs, so I walked back to the front door and tried the knob. It opened and because I'd always had an open invitation, I walked through the front just as I had been doing for the last ten years. It was dark upstairs, and I wondered if maybe Becky was in the living room watching television with her dad, so I lowered my backpack beside the staircase and made my way down the hall to the living room. There were no lights in
the house at all, only the bright flash of the TV bursting periodically to illuminate the room, which beckoned me closer. I wasn't sure what he was watching, though the echo of soft moans suggested it wasn't something Mr. Charles would be watching with Becky. My stomach clenched tight with nerves as I edged into the doorway and spied two naked women tangled together, glistening faces buried in each
other's snatch as they writhed and moaned together. Now I'd seen porn before. My older brother Dennis had a whole collection of it stashed under his bed and Becky and I had snorted and giggled over it half a dozen times, but I'd never walked in and caught someone watching porn before. Mr. Charles sat hunched down on the couch, his pants puddled beside his feet on the floor. Oh my god! I'd walked in and
caught my best friend's dad whacking off, and though I knew I should have turned and quietly snuck right back out of the house like I'd never been there at all, I couldn't tear my eyes away. Fingers wrapped gently around his thick cock, he stroked in slow, deliberate motions, up and down, his thumb occasionally flipping up to fondle the swollen purple head that looked like it was about to burst. I glanced up at the television
screen again at those two women lapping like thirsty dogs at each other's pussies, and felt the crotch of my panties grow damp. I'd always thought Becky's dad was hot, especially when he came home from work with his tie loosened and his top button undone. He'd lay his briefcase on the kitchen counter and ask if we wanted to eat banana splits for dinner, and that alone had been enough to make me adore him, but
never in my wildest fantasies had I ever imagined I'd find myself in the position I was in. He was stroking faster, knuckles a blur as he whacked harder, and the whole thing made me so hot I couldn't stop myself from slipping my right hand down to lift my skirt so I could slide easily into my wet panties. I was literally dripping with excitement, and I scooped my index finger through the lips of my pussy, dipping into my hole to moisten the
tip before gliding up to flicker at the nub of my clit. Watching him jack off was so hot, and my finger fluttered like a jackrabbit as my eyes moved from his cock to the television, imagining that fast flick of movement was his tongue. I'd never had my pussy eaten before, but my friends had told me all about it and since then it had become my number one fantasy while fingering myself. That fantasy had just become ten times
hotter as I thought about Mr. Charles going down on me and burying his face between the lips of my cunt. A soft moan escaped me, and it should have blended in perfectly with the carnal sounds blaring from the surround sound, but it must have been louder than I thought. In a quick flash of movement, Mr. Charles jumped up from the couch, his hard cock bouncing out of his hand as he stood clamoring for the
right thing to say. "Sara," he stammered. "I… What…" I felt my cheeks grow hot with embarrassment when his gaze traveled the length of my arm, the fabric of my skirt barely hiding the fact that I'd been fingering myself while I watched him. He didn't move to pull his pants up though, which surprised me. "What are you doing here?" he asked, his eyes still lingering at my waist. "I… we… Becky and I were
supposed to do our final chemistry project this weekend," I explained. I was so embarrassed I thought I'd burst into flames right then and there, especially since my hand was still lodged down the front of my panties. He cleared his throat. "Becky's not here. She's at her mother's this weekend." I swallowed. "Oh." I glanced down at his dick,
expecting to find it dangling soft within the nest of dark hair between his legs, but it was still jutting upright. In fact, it almost looked like it had gotten harder since he'd stood up and I wondered if he was just as turned on by catching me fingering myself as I had been watching him stroke his thick cock. I started to draw my hand out of my panties, but he reached a hand toward me and said, "Don't."
"Um… okay." "What were you doing just now?" He asked, as if he didn't already know. He was really going to make me say it out loud, wasn't it? "I… well, I came in because I saw someone in the living room…" "No, what were you doing with your hand in your panties?" He took a step toward and I watched his bobbing cock. "Were you
fingering yourself?" I started to say no, but I realized with my hand still nestled in the soft, wet cookie jar, I couldn't exactly lie and get away with it. "Yes, sir." "Sara," he tilted his head, his voice taking on a scolding, fatherly tone. He took another step toward me, but I avoided looking at his dick. "How did it feel?" he asked. When I didn't answer right away, he repeated the question. "How did it
feel when you were fingering your own pussy?" I dropped my eyes from his and stared at the floor. "Good." "Will you show me?" My gaze shot up and met with his. "What do you mean?" "Come sit on the couch and show me," he repeated. "Show me how you finger yourself, how you make yourself cum."
Before I could protest, he reached for my arm and tugged it out of my panties. He drew me almost stumbling to the couch and seated me in the same place he'd been just moments earlier. He hunkered down between my legs, his eyes moving from my skirt to my face several times before he said, "Show me." My hand trembling, I reached down and lifted the edge of my skirt again. Shaking fingers danced along
the bottom of my stomach as I fumbled to get inside the elastic waistband of my panties, and when he saw my frustration, he laughed. "Here," he hiked up the hem of my skirt and grabbed the sides of my panties. "Let's just get these out of the way." He tugged them down quickly and dropped them onto the floor. Then he positioned a hand on each knee and spread my legs wide so he could see what waited between them. "You shave your
pussy?" he asked. "Yes, sir." "Good girl," he grinned up at me. "There's something about a smooth, shaved pussy that makes me want to just bury my face in it." His eyes never leaving mine, he said, "Play with yourself." I was still shaking, but the way he was talking to me and the fact that he was bent half-naked between my legs was making me
even wetter than I already was. I slipped my fingers down into my snatch again, quivering a little as the moist, warm folds welcomed my familiar touch. I pushed the lips of my pussy apart and slowly plunged my finger into my depths. He followed every movement with his eyes, his tongue darting out to trace his lower lip as I pushed my index finger in and out. My thumb instinctively shut up to brush the hard, aching nub of my clit.
"Do you do that a lot?" he asked. "Finger yourself?" "Yes," I whispered. "Are you a virgin, Sara?" "No, sir." And that part was true. I hadn't been with but two guys, but I was no virgin. "Are you a naughty little slut?" he asked. I bit my lip, wondering if the fact that I was sitting on his couch
driving my own fingers in and out of me while he watched made me a naughty little slut. "Do you want me to be a naughty little slut, Mr. Charles?" "I do," he nodded. "Does that feel good?" He changed the subject, looking back down at the busy fingers still working my cunt. He said he wanted me to be a naughty little slut, so I wondered for a moment what a naughty little slut might say in response to his
question. A slow grin tugged at the corner of my mouth, and I said, "Not as good as your mouth would feel." That made him smile, and without a word he pushed my hand away and lowered his face to breathe in the scent of my wet pussy. His fingers pushed into my thighs, pushing my legs even further apart as he opened his mouth and slipped his tongue between my dripping pussy lips. He
closed his mouth, tongue still dancing between my folds as he lifted his lips to gently suckle my aching clitoris. Having my pussy eaten was even better than all the fantasies I'd dreamed up while masturbating. His warm mouth sucked softly while his fluttering tongue pulsed and lapped. I almost came right in his face when he slipped his finger inside my hole and began pumping it in and out while he ate me. I
edged closer to his face, my ass hanging off the couch as I pushed my pussy into his mouth and writhed the way the women in the porno he'd been watching had done. He jammed another finger into my pussy, tongue swirling and licking as the rhythm of his fingers picked up speed. When I felt his thumb brush against my asshole, I shuddered with delight, and he continued to gently stroke the sensitive skin around my puckered
hole. Familiar ripples of orgasm began to shudder through my body, and Mr. Charles pulled out his fingers and lowered his hungry mouth over my hole as I came, my body dancing almost against my will and my pussy gushing sweet cream all over his face. He licked every last drop of juice from my cunt, and then pulled his face back. The stubble on his cheeks glistened in the pulsing light of the television, his own saliva and
my cum dripping down his chin, and I wondered what I tasted like in his mouth. "I want to taste," I told him, sitting up and leaning forward to kiss him. His mouth closed over mine, tongue pushing between my lips and swirling the taste of my own pussy around inside my mouth. I'd tasted my own pussy juices before after fingering myself, but for some reason they tasted sweeter in his mouth than they ever
had on my own finger. His arms wrapped around me, drawing me forward as he dropped back to rest on his heels. His cock stood at full mast between his legs, and when he drew me into his arms I felt the slippery tip brush against my thigh. I wanted to feel him inside him, his thick, throbbing cock pushing the walls of my cut apart as he stroked and stroked until he came. He was still kissing me when he
gripped my ass cheeks in his hands and spread me wide before positioning the wet and waiting hole of my pussy over the swollen purple head of his cock. Both of the other guys I'd been with had been my own age, and while they were certainly well endowed, they obviously had no idea the subtle art of sliding into a woman's pussy. Mr. Charles, on the other hand, knew exactly what he was doing. At first he just pushed the fat
head of his dick inside me, pulsing in short, quick thrusts to spread my hole wider. Then he slid inside inch by inch and with a final upward slam of his hips, his balls slapped up against my ass. "You're so tight," he breathed against my ear and pushed deep inside me. "Are you sure you're not a virgin?" I ground down on him harder to show him I knew exactly what I was doing, and he groaned with such
pleasure I thought he was going to explode. But he wasn't like the minute men from the football team I'd been with. Those guys barely pushed their dick in and then shot their load all over you before you even felt it. He kneaded and squeezed my ass like bread dough in his soft hands, while guiding me up and down his slippery cock with such focus that the intense look in his eye made me even wetter. He
banged and slammed, the rock hard head of his dick pounding at me in ways I'd never been pounded before. I must have sounded so silly every time I cried out, "Oh Mr. Charles," but he felt so good inside me and the sound of his name echoing from my own lips seemed to please him. I couldn't believe what I doing, and when it really sunk me what was going on, that I fucking my best friend Becky's
was into was dad,
a strange nervous tingling fluttered in my stomach. That tingle of forbidden excitement made every hammer of his cock feel even more incredible than the last. I almost cried out in protest when he pulled out of me, but then he quickly maneuvered me onto my knees in front of him and slipped his warm cock back into me from behind. He gripped my hips in his hands, squeezing and guiding me. I'd never been fucked doggy-
style before, but it quickly became my new favorite position as he banged and thrust so deep inside me I thought he was going to burst right through me. I rammed my ass back into him, relishing in the slap of his soft, sweaty balls against my pussy. And then he started to tickle my clit while he fucked me, and I couldn't hold back anymore. "Please, Mr. Charles," I whimpered, orgasm creeping up slowly to claim me. "Please don't
stop." "Cum for me." He hammered into me again and again, fingers still fluttering over my clit in soft circles. "I want you to come for me." "Yes!" I cried, orgasm rippling through my body, the clenching walls of my pussy tightening and contracting in soft pulses that stroked and squeezed his cock. "Oh yeah!" he grunted, slamming me even harder. "Oh
yeah, you feel so good. Your pussy is so tight and warm." His hot breath caressed my ear as he laid over my back, still grinding. "I'm gonna cum all over you," he promised. "Will you cum on my face?" I asked him. "You really are a naughty little slut," he answered with a gruff laugh before sliding his cock out of me and slapping me on the ass. "Turn over and sit down."
I did as he said, dropping down to sit in front of him. I realized with a soft grin, as I reached down to finger my pussy while he stroked his cock in front of me, that we were right back where we started. His hand moved in swift, deliberate pumps up and down his cock, and as he picked up speed I braced myself for the geyser he was about to shoot off right in my face. "Here it comes," he said, jerking even faster.
I leaned closer, ready and waiting, but even with the warning I was delighted and surprised when hot spurts of cum burst from the swollen, purple head of his dick. I opened my mouth to catch it, but it hit my top lip. My tongue swept out to catch it, the salty warmth of his delicious seed coating my taste buds. His pumping hand slowed and the last bit of cum shot into my face. I reached up and swiped it off my cheek and then sucked it clean
from my fingers. Mr. Charles drew back to catch his breath, his raging hard on now growing limp and settling into the soft patch of wiry hair between his legs. He dropped his hands onto the tops of his thighs with a sigh. "Mr. Charles," I started, sure the awkward, naughty feeling was about to creep back on me, but it never came. "Call me Sam." He grinned and
pushed himself up off the floor. "Hey, did you have dinner yet?" He wasn't seriously going to ask me out to dinner, like on a date, was he? "No," I shrugged my shoulders up around my ears. "You want a banana split?" he asked. "I'm famished." I smiled up at him. "Sure," I said. "I'll just go get cleaned up."
HER BEST FRIEND'S DAD 2
Just before graduation I caught my best friend Becky's dad jerking off in his living room. I felt so naughty as I stood in the shadowed doorway watching him stroke his thick, beautiful cock and under the soft current of mewling lesbians on the big screen TV I'd reached my hand inside my panties and started to finger my clit. As I watched the two women lap thirstily at each other's sopping wet pussies, I imagined my own fast-fluttering
finger was Mr. Charles' tongue, but then my soft moan caught his ears and I was totally busted. I'd expected him to freak out, send me sobbing from the house as he shouted, "Be gone, you naughty little slut!" but Mr. Charles surprised me by stepping toward me and asking me to show him how I liked to finger myself. Soon he had his face buried deep in my cunt, tongue slipping and sliding through my sweet snatch until I creamed
right into his mouth. He licked every gush clean and then rammed me down on his rod, grinding my hips down hard before finally turning me over and giving it to me doggie-style. Mr. Charles liked that I was a naughty little slut, and he loved it when I asked him to cum all over my face. After that, everything between us was different. We were alive with the secret between us, hunting out every
opportunity we could find to sneak in a little playtime when I spent the night with Becky. He was always grabbing my ass when he knew she wasn't looking, whispering all the things he wanted to do to me when I walked by and after she fell asleep at night, I'd sneak out of her room and meet him in the den, where he'd fuck me like I'd never been fucked before. It was a wonder that she never heard me moaning and crying out
while he stuck it to me hard. I couldn't even begin to imagine what Becky would think if she ever found out I was having sex with her dad and the thrill of knowing we were doing something so naughty and forbidden made every single stroke of his cock feel that much better inside me. I was his naughty little slut all summer long and when August rolled around I was bummed that I was going away to college over two
hours away. Who would keep his cock warm in my absence… better yet, who in the world would satisfy the appetite I'd developed for the hard pussy pounding he loved to dish out as he smacked my tight little ass and drove himself into me doggie-style? I'd have to learn to deal I realized, as he said, "Those college guys will be all over you before you even finish unpacking your car. You'll have to fight them off with a
stick. I guarantee it." "But they're just boys," I said, rolling out of his arms and onto my back to stare up at his bedroom ceiling. Becky had already left for college, granting us one final weekend together. Sam rolled into his side, his hand sliding along the curve of my waist, traveling up to caress the mound of my breast beneath his soft, experienced fingers. "Maybe they are just boys." He
cocked his eyebrow at me. "But you've learned a lot these last few months. I'm sure you could teach them a thing or two they won't soon forget." "Maybe," upright.
I
shrugged,
sitting
I slid my legs over the edge of the bed and started to stand, but Sam grabbed my hand and tugged me back down. "Now where do you think you're going, little miss?" He rolled me back into his arms, my
naked body nestling into his. He traced his finger up and down my spine, sending chills rippling through me. "You need to make sure you give me plenty to think about while you're gone," he said, nipping at my ear. "Yeah?" I asked, stroking my hand down his waist to fondle the semi-hard cock between his thighs. "I'm sure there are plenty of hot women you can occupy yourself with while I'm gone."
I didn't realize how jealous I was that he might actually fuck other women once I left for college. I already knew we had no future together. I mean he was my twenty years older than me and my best friend's dad to make things more complicated, but just the thought of him sticking his cock in another woman made me feel bitter and that made me feel stupid. Sam lifted his head back to look down at me, a coy grin budding at
his soft mouth. "Does that bother you?" he asked. "The thought of my cock inside another pussy?" I shrugged, unable to disguise the pout edging at my lower lip. "It's not like we're a couple," I said. "And it's not like I won't turn a bunch of those college boys into men." He chuckled, his blue-grey eyes twinkling in the half-light of the fading sun just outside the bedroom window. "I'd be lying if I said it didn't bother me thinking about you
fucking those boys." His soft fingertip was still tracing delicious patterns across the surface of my skin, shooting shivers of delight through my body. "I've come to think of that beautiful, tight little pussy as my own playground." His hand dropped down the smooth muscles of my stomach and his stiff finger dipped into the wet, hairless lips of my twat. A heated breath pushed through my slightly open mouth as he pushed that finger into my hole and began to slowly fuck
me with it. "But you're right, Sara," he went on. "We're not a couple. We could never be a couple, so we should just make the most of this as long as it lasts." "Yes," I hissed, pushing myself down on his finger until I felt the bone of his knuckle brush the soft skin between my ass and pussy. "We wouldn't want you to forget your naughty little slut," I said, drawing my hips back up until his finger came out of me.
I pushed him onto his back and crawled across his legs, spreading them wide so I could nestle my body between them. I lowered my cheek on the top of his thigh and took his hardening cock in my hand. I stroked it up and down, delighting in the way it grew even harder with every jerk until it was fully erect between my eager fingers. I kissed the bottom of his shift, darting my tongue out and tracing the length until I arrived at the bulging head. A drop of pre-cum
glistened there and I circled my tongue around to taste the salty droplet. His whole body went rigid with anticipation, toes curling at the end of the bed as I opened my lips and lowered them slowly down over the soft mushroom. I sucked him softly into my mouth, still rolling my tongue around his head like a naughty girl with a lollipop. I squeezed my fingers at the base, jerking them upward in soft, slow
motions that wrought an exalted sigh from between his parted lips. "You're so goddamn good at that." His reaching fingers tangled in the hair at the nape of my neck and pushed down on my head until I felt the fat head of his cock at the back of my throat. I fought against my gag reflex, the spasm of muscle gobbling him in even deeper before he mercifully drew my head back again. I rose back up to suck and
tongue his head and stroked my loosely circled fingers up and down his rod, which was now slick and dripping with my saliva. I kneaded his balls in my free hand, rolling them between my fingers until his knees jerked with pleasure. "Jesus Christ, girl," he groaned, fingers still worked so tightly into my hair I could almost feel the strands snapping away from my scalp one by one. But I didn't stop sucking and jerking his cock until I
knew he was about to explode. He popped out my mouth with a wet slurp, brushing across my cheek before settling rigid into the neatly trimmed curls of golden brown hair. "How would you like to fuck me, Mr. Charles?" The formal use of his name ignited something wild in his eyes, a look not unlike the one I'd found on me that day I'd caught him jacking off in the living room. It was as if my calling him Mr. Charles
made him feel naughtier, as if sticking his cock in my tight little eighteen-year-old pussy evoked more taboos than him just being my best friend's dad. He was suddenly the big bad wolf and I was a timid little girl in the woods practically begging to be devoured. "Lie down on the bed, Sara." Sam's voice was gruff and demanding, just the way I liked it. As he sat up, his dick standing at attention, I laid down in the middle
of the bed and gazed down the length of my body at him. Was he going to eat my pussy? He'd been the first and only guy to ever bury his face in my snatch, and over the last few months I'd come to love the delightful feel of his tongue and lips savoring my cunt like a delicious dish. He started to lift my legs up around his shoulders the way he liked to when he was about to dive into my creamy muff, but instead of
going down, he straightened his body and rested my straightened legs up the length of his chest. With a quick maneuver he gripped my knees to hike my hips up so my hole was level with his cock. He held me in place with one arm and then guided the head of his cock through my slippery wet slit. Lubricated by my juices, he pushed that fat head at the outside of my pussy, the tight muscles tensing with the excitement of
penetration. His brow was wrinkled in concentration as he pushed through the muscle and slid his length deeper inside me than he'd ever been. "Mm," a soft moan huffed across my lips once he was buried ball's deep inside me, stimulating an unfamiliar but wonderful ache that begged to be hammered into full fruition. "You're so deep inside me." I gazed up the length of my legs and into his soft blue eyes. A wicked
grin quirked the corner of his mouth as he drew back his hips and pulled himself nearly out of me. Gliding back in slow, he didn't stop until that same ache stirred and the squeezing muscles of my pussy clenched eagerly around him. Back out again, the emptiness that followed the disappearance of that stimulated ache was almost more than I could bear, but the next time he pushed into me there was nothing slow about his thrust. He pounded the full length of his thick
cock into my wet cunt with a force that shattered that ache into a thousand shivers of ecstasy as he slammed in deep. Back again, and another grand slam of bliss, every quick, hammering punch of his cock made me feel like I was about to cum. "Oh, Mr. Charles," I mewled softly as he pumped away at me. "Oh my god that feels so good." "Yeah?" he urged me on, squeezing my legs closer to his
chest as he punched in and out of my pussy with such force I swore the walls of my cunt were going to blissfully shatter. "Who are you gonna think about when you're away from home fucking all those college boys?" he panted between thrusts, every wet, slapping pound harder than the last. "You," I whimpered. "I'll think about you." He was punishing my pussy, giving it a fuck so good no other boy
or man in my future would ever be able to compare. I'd lay unsatisfied in crumpled sheets forever after, my mind always scaling backward in time to that final amazing fuck he'd doled out before I left for college. He was a deliciously cruel man, a man that despite the taboo that would never truly allow us to be a couple, I could imagine fucking for all my days and knowing he could never really be mine made me want him that much more.
I squeezed the sweaty flesh of my own thighs, the greedy muscles of my cunt clenching and quivering around his shaft. I started to reach my finger down to circle and stroke the hard nub of my clit, but he pushed my hand away. "I will make you cum," he practically growled as he punched his cock into my pussy like a furious fist, the head slamming at my g-spot again and again. I laid back and let him do all the
work, reveling in every sweet stroke as his pumping hip bones ground almost painfully into the backs of my thighs. "Cum for me, little girl," he commanded, his cock punching into me like a furious fist, the head slamming at my g-spot again and again. The urgency of that of that pounding was intense, an underlying current of excitement warming my entire body, but the heat lingered in the pit of my
stomach. Soon it would spread up to my chest, down into my thighs as it coursed its way through my blood. I tried to control it, to will my body to stave off the intense waves of orgasm about to shudder through me, but every time he ground the head of his dick into my g-spot it became harder to hold back. I felt like I was going to explode, something that had never happened to me before without extra clitoral
stimulation. Before I could even question whether or not it was possible for a girl to cum without stroking her clit, Sam hammered into me so hard I saw stars. Uncontrollable waves of the most intense, full-body pleasure I'd ever felt raked through my tensed body as I writhed and shuddered against the hard grip of his arms around my knees. I was sure my overwhelmed screams could be heard at the end
of the block; the perverted old man at the end of the street who liked to sit on his porch and watch with glassy eyes as Becky and I walked by giggling in our short skirts wouldn't even need to turn up his hearing aid was screaming so loud. "Oh god," I wailed as he continued stoking the perfect fire of the most amazing orgasm I'd ever felt. "Oh, Mr. Charles. Oh god! Don't stop fucking me," I pleaded. "Please don't stop fucking me."
The devious gleam in his eye should have told me he had no intention of stopping, and prior experience had taught me that, unlike the other two boys my own age that I'd been with before him, Sam Charles could hold back for hours when he really wanted to. As the magical waves began to ebb away, Sam slowed his strokes and pulled out of me. He lowered both of my legs over to the right of his body and rolled me onto my side.
He spooned me from behind, tickling my ass playfully beneath his fingertips before he slid back inside my sopping wet cunt and aligned his chest with my back. He tugged me closer, holding me against him with his firm grip on my hip as he glided slowly in and out of me. Face buried in the crook of my neck, the rough stubble on his cheeks and chin scraped like sand against my skin and I closed my eyes as I enjoyed every purposeful stroke of his wonderful
cock inside me. That position allowed him to keep stimulating my oversensitive g-spot, and even though he'd slowed down his thrusts, he was still driving deep inside me. "You won't forget about me, Sara." His gruff whisper pulsed in heated breaths across my sweatslicked skin. "No one will ever fuck you like I do." The orange fingers of fading
sunlight clawing through the window blinds incensed romantic yearning inside me. I didn't want to forget about Mr. Charles, and as silly and childish as it was, I didn't want to fuck anyone but him ever again. Maybe it was because that earth-shattering orgasm had made my heart feel weak, but even once I was away at college he would linger always in the back of my mind and I had a feeling I'd be doing a lot of masturbating.
I drew his arms around me and held him closer, pushing my ass back to accept his length again and again. I was fooling myself completely to think for even a minute that once I was gone he'd miss me, but the soft, increasing pant of his breath and the quickening of his strokes told me otherwise. He'd never fucked anyone like me, no one made him feel as naughty and bad as I did, and even if that had nothing to do with the romantic closeness I felt cradled
against him, I didn't care. He wouldn't soon forget me either, and knowing that as he increased the force of his thrusts made me shudder with glee. "Do you want me to cum, Sara?" he whispered against the back of my neck. "Yes," I hissed, purposely clenching the muscles inside me tighter around him. He pumped faster, grinding his
hips deeper into my body, once more slamming his fat, swollen head at my cervix. I wanted him to cum, even if it meant I didn't get to cum again. There'd be other orgasms, even if they weren't as intense and exciting as the one I'd just had. "Blow your load all over my back," I said. Sam was furiously pumping in and out of me again, our wet skin slapping together like a standing
ovation while his excited grunts signaled just how close he was to doing exactly what I wanted him to do. I cried out when he jerked out of me, his hand reaching to desperately jack his cock against my arching back. The sticky head nudged against my skin, stimulating the sensitive skin and signaling hot, creamy spurts of cum that shot out to pain my skin. He was still grunting and moaning as
he finished himself off, the fast pace of his jacking hand slowing as the final two squirts of cum landing between my shoulder blades just before he collapsed backward onto the bed with a breathy, "Woo." I grinned, still curled on my side facing away from him as the last rays of sunlight disappeared and the room grew dark. Once Sam caught his breath, he rolled back onto his side and draped a defeated arm over my hip, tugging me closer and
burying his face in my hair. "What time are you leaving tomorrow?" he finally asked. "Nine," I muttered. "Seems so early," he said. "Do you think you could spend the night?" "Probably not." The disappointed sigh that escaped him rustled through the damp strands of hair slicked against
the back of my neck. "So this is it then?" I started to shrug my shoulders. I didn't know what to say, what he was trying to say. "You'll forget Monday," I said.
about
me
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He chuckled, "I highly doubt that." He was squeezing me a little tighter, or dirty bodies pressed close in the dark, our breath a chorus of defeated sighs. "Maybe I could
come and visit sometime," he finally said. "And of course, you'll be home for the holidays, right?" "Yeah," I nodded. "It would be nice if you came to visit sometimes." "Then I will." He smoothed his hand down over my arm and then intertwined his fingers with mine. I closed my eyes and tried not to think about the future. We had something, my best friend's dad and
I. I didn't know exactly how to classify it, or where it would go once I was two hours away and living on campus, but I would take everything he'd taught me about matters of the flesh into my future. Maybe I would even learn a few new tricks to share with him if he actually came to visit like he'd said he would. "You sure you can't spend the night?" he asked again. "Maybe," I said. "But I don't
think we'll get much sleep." And with that I rolled around to face him, lifting my leg up over his thigh to rest. He tugged me closer, settling in to rest as he said, "I can live with that."
HER BEST FRIEND'S DAD 3
I couldn't believe how much life changed just before high school graduation. I'd caught my best friend Becky's dad jacking off in his living room one night and I was so turned on as I watched him jerk his cock, I couldn't help but slip my hand into my panties to stroke the aching nub of my clit. When Mr. Charles caught me, I thought for sure he was going to freak out and ban me from the house for good, but as it turned out my best friend's
dad was a naughty, dirty man. No one was more surprised than I was when he asked me to spread my legs on the couch and show him how I liked to make myself cum. Down on the floor between my thighs he watched me masturbate for awhile, his blue-grey eyes intently studying my technique. Then he went down and lapped at my sweet young pussy until I came all over his face. It was the first time I'd ever had my pussy eaten,
which quickly made me come back for more, and as Mr. Charles and I fucked the entire summer away I learned more than I could have ever dreamed about how to please a man. And then it was time to head off to college. There was a part of me that actually lamented the loss of the most incredible sex I'd ever known, and that part of me was deeply connected to a twinge of jealousy every time I imagined my
experienced, dominant older lover fucking another woman. But we weren't a couple, at least I didn't think we were. We weren't in love… were we? Our last night together he asked me if it bothered me; the thought of his beautiful cock buried deep inside another woman's pussy while I was away at college. "It's not like we're a couple," I had said, trying desperately to hide the pout pushing at my lower lip.
"And it's not like I won't turn a bunch of those college boys into men." He chuckled, his eyes twinkling in the half-light of the fading sun just outside the bedroom window. "I'd be lying if I said it didn't bother me thinking about you fucking those boys." His soft fingertip was still tracing delicious patterns across the surface of my skin, shooting shivers of delight through my body. "I've come to think of that
beautiful, tight little pussy as my own playground." And as he fingered my pussy, preparing it for the most intense cock pounding I'd ever taken, he said, "But you're right, Sara. We're not a couple. We could never be a couple, so we should just make the most of this as long as it lasts." Not a couple… could never be a couple… and so I went off to college intent on trying to forget about my best friend's dad, even though he
was the most amazing lover I had ever known. And for a little while I almost thought I could bury my feelings for Sam Charles and move on thanks to my new roommate, Juliet. Juliet had started classes in the spring and she'd been to tons of parties, met a lot of guys. Shortly after I'd settled into my room that first night, she promised to introduce me to everyone she knew and before the first week of classes
was out, Juliet and I were an inseparable force to be reckoned with. But I didn't forget about Sam as easily as I would have liked to. Even on the nights Juliet and I practically crawled home and into bed just shy of dawn, I found my thoughts lingering on memories of his mouth on mine, his tongue caressing my lower lip before his lips closed upon me with more passion than should have been legal. I would roll onto
my side and flicker my fingertip across my clit, eyes closed as flashes of memory pulsed through my brain. His body crushing mine as he slid his cock in and out of me, the blissful sting of his palm against my ass while he guided me up and down his shaft, his gruff whisper in the dark as he shared his dreams and begged to hear more of mine, the mingled scent of his aftershave on my skin and clothes when I went home and crawled back into my own bed…
I missed him and far more than I expected to. But what could I do? He'd made it perfectly clear that anything beyond the occasional fuck was completely out of the question. A relationship between us was impractical, which in my mind meant impossible. So try as I might to move on and forget about my best friend's dad, I couldn't get him out of my mind. Not even when Juliet introduced me to the Stafford twins, and the
two of us traded them back and forth between us my second weekend on campus. I'd never been with two guys at the same time before, and being completely stuffed with cock took a little getting used to before it was comfortable enough for me to actually enjoy it. On the sidelines, Juliet watched and slowly fingered her slick, wet cunt while Cole and his identical twin brother Chris bounced
between my tight ass and pussy. There was something so intense and erotic about the way she reached out with her free hand and brushed the sweat-soaked strands of blonde hair from my face while I took on the twins without her, and there was even a part of me that longed for her to join us, but I'd never been with another girl before beyond the childish experimentations of playing doctor with friends. I didn't know how to ask and I had grown to like Juliet so
much I was afraid of freaking her out, so I said nothing. But despite the incredible Stafford double team, Juliet could see my heart wasn't in it. I was going through the motions, and it felt good to be getting out there and experimenting, but something inside me felt empty. By the third week of classes Juliet and I had shared half a dozen guys between us, but all I could think about was Sam. What was he doing? Had he
been with anyone? Did he even think about me at all since I'd left? "Who was he?" she finally asked one afternoon as we moved our trays through the cafeteria line. We'd been talking about the frat party we planned to hit Thursday night, but she must have noticed my heart wasn't really in it. Caught off guard, I shook my head and slid my tray up to the register. Handing the lunch lady my flex card, I turned to Juliet and
asked, "Who was who?" "You know," she hummed, nudging into me with her shoulder. "The guy you left back home," she said widening her big blue eyes and grinning deliciously as she slid in beside me and headed toward a small booth near the garden windows. "The one who's got your panties in a pretty little twist that makes it damn near impossible to get you to focus on having a good time."
I'd never told anyone about Mr. Charles. The fact that we came from an incredibly small town made it impossible to share my secret without the possibility of everyone finding out, and besides, the one person in the world I would have actually wanted to lay awake at night sharing the sordid details with would have never understood. After all, the object of my lust and desire was her dad for Pete's sake! "Come on," Juliet slid into the
booth across from me and nudged me under the table with her shoe. "You can tell me." "I don't know," I shrugged. "I've never told anyone before. It's sort of…" My voice trailed off as my mind conjured up an image of Sam poised above me, his rock hard cock the only thing separating our bodies. "It's sort of bad." "Ooh," she cooed, closing her lips around her straw and sucking a quick drink. "Bad embarrassing or
naughty-naughty bad?" I giggled at the choices she'd offered. "It's definitely not embarrassing," I said, and that was true. There was nothing embarrassing about Sam Charles. At thirty-nine, he was hands down the most gorgeous man I'd ever known, and I wasn't the only one who thought so. I remembered Becky's fourteenth birthday slumber party, during a game of truth-or-dare Kim Reynolds had
made Becky so mad when she said she thought her dad was hot. She'd only gotten madder when all the other girls at the party chimed in to agree. "It's naughty-naughty bad," I said, and I could feel my cheeks flushing bright pink with unspoken chagrin. Her wide eyes grew bigger and so did her grin as she twirled a soft brown curl of hair around her finger. "How naughty-naughty
bad?" she pushed. "Like… stepbrother bad?" she asked. "High school teacher bad?" I drew in a deep breath, holding it in my lungs for a moment. "Best friend's naughty dad bad." I breathed out, and for a moment I felt better that I'd actually said it out loud to someone. "I spent the entire summer fucking my best friend's dad, and things between us got pretty intense." "Wow," she said. "That is so
freakin' hot! What is he like? Is he cute?" "Gorgeous," I sighed. "And he's amazing in bed. He taught me so many things." "Mm," she shrugged her shoulders up around her neck. "Lucky! My best friend's dad is a total gag. Like there isn't enough money in the world to pay me to touch his dick." I knew she would want details,
and over the next few days she wrangled every naughty nugget she could from me, often keeping me up well into the night just giggling and swooning over the tales I had to tell about Sam. "Do you love him?" she finally asked one night, the darkness between us enough to keep my puzzled expression hidden. I didn't know how to answer her because the logical part of my brain kept insisting it was impossible for us to
be together, so how could I love him. But the more I thought about it as I listened to Juliet's deep breath turn into soft snores, the more it started to sink in. Just because loving Sam was illogical, that didn't mean I didn't still feel it. I reached over onto the nightstand for my cell phone and rolled over to face the wall so the light wouldn't wake Juliet. I scrolled through my contacts until I came to the S's. I brought up his cell
phone number and for a moment I just stared at it. I hadn't heard from him since I'd left, and if I told him I was thinking about him, what would he say? Would he think I was being childish and silly? Would he even care? I shouldn't, I told myself. It was stupid, and just when I'd resolved myself to putting the phone away and just going to sleep a soft ping alerted me that I had a text message. For a moment there was a
soft pang of guilt and uncertainty clenching my stomach. Had I actually texted him and forgotten in that brief thirty-second window? It was probably just one of my friends. None of them had any respect for the sleeping. I was going to ignore it until morning, but the chime announced another text and curiosity got the best of me. I opened the window and scanned over the words: It's so late and I can't stop thinking
about you. How the hell can you still keep me up all night when you're not even here? I squinted at the letters, ignoring the increased flutter of my heart inside my chest. I hadn't heard from him at all since I'd left, and now suddenly he was texting me after Juliet and I had spent days talking about him? It couldn't be a coincidence, and with an accusing glare I turned to look across the dark room at my sleeping
roommate. She didn't move, and I rolled back toward the wall, scanning his message for the fourth time. Was I asleep and dreaming? And if not, what did I say? If I was dreaming, there didn't seem to be any risk, so my busy thumbs began typing out a message and before I could allow second thoughts and doubt to steal in, I hit send. Funny… I was just thinking about you too. I really miss
you, Sam. Every second that ticked by after I sent that message felt like an eternity as the doubt and fear grabbed hold of me and threatened to drive me crazy. Wanting him inside me was an option, but missing him wasn't… or was it? I swear time stopped while I waited for his response, a response I was sure would never come, and when the screen on my BlackBerry faded and went dark I was sure he was
sitting at home laughing at my silly teenage girl emotions. And then my phone chimed again, the LED light announcing a new message. I drew in a deep breath and held it as I turned the screen back on and scanned over his reply. I miss you too. I want to see you. When are you coming home? He missed me? I couldn't believe
he'd just said that. I typed in my reply, that I wasn't coming home again until the end of November and a minute later he responded with: I will come see you this weekend. Friday afternoon. Can I? Really? Was he messing with my mind? Surely it couldn't be because he was horny. Like I said he was gorgeous and I knew a lot of the women he worked with were really into him.
He could have fucked any one of them if he was just horny. Yes, should down.
really. I think we talk when I come
That was the clincher, I thought, the anxiety in my stomach tightening the muscles again. All I could imagine was that he didn't want to see me anymore, or maybe he had found someone else to fuck. I didn't realize how bad my
hands were shaking until I had to retype my reply three times to get it right. What do you want to talk about? A few minutes passed and I started to think he'd gone to bed. Finally his reply came, startling me out of my confused reverie. It's better if we talk in person. It's not the kind of discussion you have through
text messages, ok? I sighed. Ok. As if he'd read my mind, or somehow sensed the anxiety in that one typed word he responded with, Don't worry, Sara. It's nothing bad. At least I don't think it's bad. We'll sit down and have dinner, talk… ok? I swallowed, and once more typed my two letter reply.
I can't wait to see you. Sweet dreams. The coincidence of hearing from Sam when I was lying there thinking about him was almost more than I could process, and the next morning as Juliet and I walked across campus toward the only class we had together, she literally gushed as I told her what happened. "And now he's coming here to see you this Friday!" She linked her arm through mine and skipped
forward like a school girl. "Ooh! How exciting!" And then she started giggling as she kept skipping and singing, "Sara's got a boyfriend! Sara's got a boyfriend." I wasn't going to argue or correct her, even if the word boyfriend just didn't seem to accurately describe exactly what I had. I was just happy Sam was coming to see me. And that minor confirmation of the weekend plans seemed to open the floodgates of communication that
had felt closed completely before. Throughout the day Sam started sexting me, asking me naughty questions about what I was wearing, how wet my panties were whenever I thought about him swirling his soft tongue around my sweet snatch, how bad I wanted to feel his cock inside me. I couldn't help wondering what had changed between the day I'd left and the night he'd texted me for the first time because suddenly it was as if
he couldn't go an hour without sending me a text message to let me know just how often he really was thinking of me. And to make matters worse, his naughty text messages only seemed to make the rest of the week crawl by in slow motion. Just the thought of seeing him, feeling his body against mine, his cock inside me got me so wet and excited that I could barely focus, but finally Friday arrived. I had tests in my first and
last classes of the day, and after finishing my biology exam early I headed back to the dorm to take a nap before Sam messaged me to let me know he was on his way. The dorm was a naturally noisy place, with students buzzing in and out all day long between classes, but the sound of voices coming from inside the room I shared with Juliet completely caught me off guard. I checked my watch and mentally ran her schedule through
my mind, but for the life of me couldn't remember where she was supposed to be on campus. With a scrunched brow, I slowly opened the door, my gaze first catching a familiar figure reclined on my bed, his tousled brown waves shadowing the side of his face as he laughed at something Juliet was saying. He turned to look at me, his blue-grey eyes lighting up when he saw me in the doorway. "There she is," he pushed off the
bed and stepped forward to greet me. I didn't know how to act, whether or not it was okay to fall into his arms in front of Juliet, but Sam answered my silent query by reaching out to grasp my hand and tugging me against his chest. Arms around me, I felt his cheek rest on top of my head, the loose strands of my hair rustling as he breathed me in. "Damn girl," he sighed, stepping
back to take another look. I couldn't imagine how I must have appeared. Disheveled and grungy in my sweatpants and t-shirt, a ponytail hanging loose at the nape of my neck, he was probably having second thoughts about being there. "You are a sight for sore eyes, let me tell you!" He laughed and bent down to brush his lips against my cheek before lifting my chin so our eyes met. He stared into mine for a moment before finally kissing me and then moving back, his hand still
lingering on my cheek. "You're early," I said, glancing over his shoulder at Juliet. I wondered what the two of them had been talking about while I was away. "I wanted to surprise you." "I'm surprised." The laugh that escaped me must have sounded uneasy, as Juliet hopped up off her bed and announced that she was leaving.
"You will join us for dinner while I'm here," Sam said to her. "Don't forget." "Oh, I won't forget," she grinned and slung her carrier bag over her shoulder. "I won't wait up for you tonight," she winked at me. Once she was gone, I started to pull away. All I could think about was making myself presentable, but Sam squeezed my fingers and drew me back against his chest. His mouth closed over mine before I
could even utter a word of protest and soon I relaxed into his embrace. "Mm," he nuzzled the tip of his nose against mine. "You always taste like raspberry and vanilla." He kissed me again, one hand buried in the hair at the nape of my neck and the other pressing firm into the small of my back before slowly traveling down to cup my ass cheek. He wanted me. I could feel the stiff pressure of his cock pushing at the tight denim of his faded jeans
and through the loose fabric of my sweatpants it felt incredible. "Where are you staying while you're here?" "Hotel," he said. "Just off the highway." "We should go there," I said. "I've been walking around almost an entire month daydreaming about your cock inside me." "I should just give it to you." He raised an eyebrow, a slow grin
drawing at the corner of his mouth. "Right here, right now." He began to draw me back toward the bed, and when he bounced back onto the mattress and pulled me down to straddle his waist, I sat back on my heels and circled my hips slowly to further entice him. "Juliet could come back anytime," I said, softly rolling my covered sex over his. "Then we'll just have to be quick."
He pulled me down atop him and kissed me again, my mouth opening to accept his silky tongue as it tasted, teased and tangled with my own. His hands smoothed down my back until hungry fingers gripped both cheeks of my ass and guided my hips in gentle circles over his restrained cock. "Or we could go back to your hotel room and take our time." I wanted every inch of him in
slow, delicious motion; to close my eyes and gasp as he filled my cunt in ways no other guy had ever seemed to do. Even with two men inside me, it felt nowhere near as satisfying as Sam burying his thick, hard shaft inside my walls. "Now," he growled against my neck, the gruff stubble on his chin and cheeks scraping my smooth skin just before his teeth nipped just below my ear. Still gripping me tight against
him, he rolled me onto my back and pushed down hard, covering my body with his. Groping, hungry hands slid up the loose hem of my shirt and began to knead and squeeze my firm, perky breasts while his starved mouth devoured my own, occasionally trailing away from my lips to taste the skin of my neck and shoulder. He yanked up my shirt and released my tits from the bra restraining them so he could tease and suckle my bright pink nipples.
I arched and pushed up into him, tangling my fingers into his hair and trying to guide him lower. I'd had enough sex in the last few weeks and should have been satisfied, but no one ate my pussy like Sam. I wanted to feel his tongue between the damp lips of my cunt, the coarse brush of his facial hair on my thighs, but he resisted, lifting his gaze to mine to remind me who was in charge. I shuddered under the power of
that stare and every relaxed muscle in my body tensed in anticipation. Sam would do what he wanted, when he wanted and not a moment before. It made every tease an adventure, the outcome completely unknown and I realized as he resumed his position atop me, both of us still fully clothed, that Sam's dominance was one of the things I enjoyed most about fucking him. He took charge, commanded me, sometimes with little more than a stern glare, and I loved flowing to
answer his every whim when he demanded that I do so. I'd been in college less than a month, but I already knew what my Intro to Psych professor would have said about that. The fact that my own father was a deadbeat had pushed me into Sam's arms because I was searching for stability, for someone to take care of me and guide me. It would certainly explain why none of the uncertain, fumbling guys who didn't know
what they wanted from me sexually had left me wanting and why Juliet sitting on the sidelines instructing everyone had turned me on. With one skillful hand, Sam unbuckled, unbuttoned and unzipped his pants before lowering them to his thighs. He then yanked my sweatpants down to my knees and spread my legs just enough to plough his way inside me. I was wetter than I'd been in months and he glided in easily, pushing fast
through the tight muscles of my aching pussy until the fat, swollen head of his dick hammered against my cervix. I shuddered and cried out so loud I was sure students passing through the hallway stopped to listen, but I didn't care. For the first time since August I was full of the only cock that had ever been able to satisfy me. Sam's hips ground into mine, his chest crushing my breasts while he
held my arms above my head with one hand and fucked me fast and hard. The wet, sloppy sound of him pounding my pussy mingled with the heated pulse of his breath and my heartbeat thundered in my ears. I wanted to wrap my legs around him and squeeze him deeper into me, but the tangled restriction of my pants around my knees made it impossible for me to move beyond an upward thrusting response to his fast-paced strokes.
Even so tightly pressed together, I could still feel the cool damp slap of his balls against my ass, tickling with every smack. Yes! This was what I'd craved, the intoxication of his musky scent filling me with every desperate breath, the soft brush of his hair against my shoulder and cheek as he angled himself for deeper penetration. The bulging head of his cock pounded mercilessly, every quick, skillful punch bringing me closer and closer to orgasm.
I'd never cum so quickly in my entire life, not even under the fastpaced stimulation of a vibrator on high power or a quick swirling tongue dancing around the nub of my clit. Sam, only Sam, and no one else could ever satisfy me. "Oh yeah, baby," he purred against my cheek, bucking and stroking even faster than before. "Cum for Daddy. Cum all over my cock, baby girl." The undulating muscles of my
cunt rippled and gripped him tight as my helpless body quivered beneath him. Ecstatic cries echoed from my throat and I no longer cared who was outside the door listening. I wasn't surprised when his own body grew rigid with concentration, his hips grinding almost out of his control until he slipped out of me and emptied weeks of built-up sexual frustration all over my bare belly. He collapsed on the bed beside
me, out of breath and completely spent even though our little quickie had taken less than fifteen minutes. I was satisfied, still mildly surprised how easily he had gotten me off with nothing more than a fastpaced, steady rhythm and a little naughty coaxing. "You make me feel like a goddamn high school kid again." He laughed, the crow's feet at the corners of his eyes bunching together in a way that always made
him more attractive. Rolling onto his side, Sam propped himself up on his elbow beside me and rested his other hand on my shoulder. "I like that you can make me feel that way." He lowered his mouth to mine and kissed with me more tenderness and attention than he'd ever done before. "I really did miss you, girl." Eyes closed, I relaxed into his kiss, muttering softly against his lips, "I missed you too, Sam."
"Yeah?" He perked up, lifting his head and grinning at me. "I bet you fucked half the boys on campus already. How the hell did you find time to miss me?" "Not half," I shook my head. "A few, but none of them were you…" His grin faded a little and he dropped his head back onto my shoulder, face burrowing into my hair as he breathed me in. "What the hell is happening here, Sara?" he asked. "What did you do to me to
make me want you like I do?" I was silent for a minute, not sure how to answer. Instead I answered with a question of my own. "And how do you want me, Sam?" His face was still nestled in the crook of my neck, soft lips and gruff stubble moving over shoulder in slow, deliberate motion. "All to myself," he finally sighed. "Mine and mine alone, and I know that's wrong." He paused for a moment,
still rolling his chin back and forth across the bare skin of my collarbone. "You got your whole life ahead of you, and I'm old enough to be your father for Christ's sake, but that just makes me want you more." "I want you too." I lifted my hand into his hair, but he jerked his head up, his face serious and stern. "No, you don't understand, Sara. I want you in the unhealthiest ways possible." His blue-grey eyes widened to express the seriousness
of his confession. "I want to own you," he said, "possess you. Make you mine and only mine." "Why is that wrong, Sam?" My hand fell soft against his cheek. "We're adults." He looked away from the intense stare I'd centered on him and pushed his cheek into his shoulder as he closed his eyes. "What would people think?" he asked. "People like who?" I questioned.
"Becky? My mom? The people back home?" "Well, yeah. Becky for starters. How do you think she would react if she knew about us?" "I don't know," I admitted, "but thinking about it doesn't make me want you any less, Sam." He didn't say anything for a few minutes, and just when I thought he was finally going to address the heaviness of the situation, he rolled
onto his back and jerked his jeans back up over his hips. After buttoning them, he jumped up out of the bed, his belt buckle dangling and clanging as he moved. "Get up and pack some clothes," he said. "Where are we going?" "To the hotel to shower and change, then out to dinner." "Dinner?"
We'd never been out to dinner before. In fact, our relationship had never gone beyond the bedroom, despite the hours we'd spent lying together in the dark sharing our intimate selves, both body and soul. But the town we lived in was small and there was no way we could risk even going to a movie together without spurring conversation among the locals. For the first time ever we were far enough away from home that we could actually be ourselves beyond closed doors.
"Dinner," he nodded. "We've got two days together. I want to make the most of it." I couldn't help but giggle when after I got out of bed, he smacked me on the ass and said, "Come on, scoot." Dinner… Something so simple had quickly become a test of acceptance, at least that was how it felt to me, and I wondered if Sam was thinking it too as the maître d barely even acknowledged the difference in our ages as he led us
to a quiet table near the back corner of the restaurant. The waiter didn't seem to care either, treating us the same way he would have any other couple leaning across the table to share whispers and promises of how the night was going to end. It seemed that the difference in our ages wasn't really all that important to anyone but us, and the more people we encountered who didn't seem to care or even notice, the more I wondered why it was so
important to us. There was Becky to think about. She'd never forgive me if she found out I was in love with her dad, but how could I give him up when being with him made me feel complete. And as I followed him into the hotel room at the end of the night, I realized what I'd concluded in my own mind: I was in love with Sam. I wanted to be with him in ways I'd never wanted to be with anyone else, and even though I knew it
would probably destroy my friendship with his daughter there was a selfish voice inside me that didn't care. While he was in the bathroom, I started to undress, knowing it was now or never. I wouldn't just tell him how I felt, but show him— make him feel it too. By the time he came out of the bathroom I was laying naked on the bed, one leg draped over the other and my head propped up. My hair fell down loose
around my shoulders, curtaining my face in a way that he could still see my eyes. I didn't have to say anything. The look I gave him said it all, and he answered by stripping out of his shirt and unbuttoning his pants as he walked toward the bed. He kicked out of them as he arrived at the edge and for a moment just lingered there in his boxer shorts just looking down over me. I held my hand out to him and
he took it, allowing me for the first time to draw him into my arms without the dominant air that had guided our every move in the past. He yielded, dropping gently onto the bed beside me and giving in as I pushed him over onto his back and climbed atop his waist. He was still wearing his shorts, but his stiff and ready cock bounced up through the fabric to tease at the naked folds of my cunt when I glided in slow motion down the length of his eager shaft.
He wanted inside me, and Sam always got what he wanted, but when he reached up to grip my hips I closed my fingers around his wrists and squeezed before pushing his hands away. A confused look marred his face, his eyes squinting as he turned his head to study me. He lifted his hands again, instinct taking over, but I batted them away and shook my head, circling my hips teasingly over his to let him know it was my turn to take charge.
As much as I wanted him to touch me, to feel his hands exploring every inch of my body in ways that only Sam seemed to know how, I needed to take charge and show him what I wanted from him. "I should tie you up." I traced the tip of my tongue across my bottom lip. "Make you my prisoner," I went on, "my love slave." "Is that what you want?" Now he was grinning, still not realizing how
far I wanted this power trip to go. "To make me your slave?" I nodded and traced my fingernails across his chest and through the light patch of hair growing there. I dug them in until I felt his soft skin filling the space between my fingertip and nail. A surprised breath caught in the back of his throat, but he didn't move to stop me. Instead he met my eyes, refusing to look away, and I could tell even that little bit of pain only
served to make him want me more. "Would you like that?" I asked him, scooting down the length of his legs and then climbing off to rest beside them. I gripped both sides of his boxer shorts and began to slowly pull them over his hips. "Would you like to be my slave?" Eyes still locked with mine, his expression didn't change as I slid the fabric down his legs and dropped it onto the floor at the end of the bed. I was moving back up to
climb atop him again when he grabbed my wrist, fingers wrapped tight to pull me into him. So much for my ploy to play the dominant role, I thought, falling atop him. His arm wrapped around my waist, holding my naked body against his as he leaned up to steal a kiss. "I'm already your slave, girl," he murmured against my lips. "I'd do anything you fucking wanted me to." "Anything?" I whispered.
"Tie me up," he said. "Torture me," he added, his mouth hungrily searching mine. "I'd do anything to make you cum." His lies of submission dwindled as he rolled me onto my back and positioned himself between my thighs. His anxious cock leaped at the notion of slipping inside my cunt, but Sam had other plans for me. He didn't waste any time lifting my legs to rest against his chest, and for a moment I thought he was
going to fuck me slow and deep the way he had the last night we'd spent together. Instead, he dropped his shoulders and dove into my pussy face first, his moist lips parted and tongue at the ready to taste my sweet juices. I immediately arched my back and thrust my hips upward, pushing myself into his hungry face. Sam knew what I liked, knew exactly how to make me cum, but as he began to suckle my clit, his soft
mouth devouring me like a ripe piece of fruit, I could tell he had no intention of making that delicious torture end quickly. I writhed and wiggled, my mind reeling over the absolute loss of control I'd wanted so badly to hold onto. I wanted to be the one who made him cry out and beg, but instead I heard my own voice pleading with him. "Fuck me with your fingers, Sam," and he complied, plunging his index and middle finger deep inside me and slowly pushing them in and out
while he tickled his tongue across the swollen, aching nub of my clit. And every time the warm waves of orgasm threatened to claim my body, Sam held back, lifting his eyes to mine; a reminder that he was my master, that I would always play the slave to his whim. I swore hours went by with me beneath his torturous tongue, always just seconds from lapsing into earthshattering orgasm that never came. He'd never driven me that close
to the edge without making sure I swan dived into oblivion before, and when he finally lifted his face to look at me one last time, mouth and cheeks glistening with saliva and my juices, I knew he had no intention of letting me cum. Not until he was ready for me to cum. He sloughed my legs from his shoulders and still gripping my ankle, he wordlessly instructed me to roll over. Prostrate and submissive beneath him, he
grabbed my hips and jerked my ass up in front of him. The head of his cock brushed against my ass cheek. It was damp, the tip sticky with a drop of pre-cum that smeared across my skin and sent shivers rippling across the surface of my skin. Ass up in the air and shoulders down between the stiff hotel pillows, I waited for him to enter me, but for a long moment he seemed to just remain there on his
knees behind me with one hand curled to rest on my hip. I turned to look behind me and saw him studying my naked ass as if it were a piece of art in a gallery. His eyes glazed with desire, his tongue traced the soft, open curve of his lower lip and then he realized I was looking at him. When his eyes met mine there was something beyond want burning inside them. He was on fire with need and what he'd said to me back at the dorm echoed in my mind.
"I want to own you," he had said, "possess you. Make you mine and only mine." He already did own me. I was his possession, my pussy belonged to him, had become his and his alone the very first time he'd slid his cock inside it. I would do anything… everything he wanted me to do. Yet with my cunt, I'd made him my slave. "Sam," I muttered.
He whispered my name in response, one hand kneading my hip while the other reached down to grip his cock and guide it into my wet, waiting hole. I would have slid back to meet him, but his gripping hand held me in place and his stroke was torturously slow. His other hand arrived to rest on the small of my back, and I lowered my head back down among the pillows with a satisfied moan. Sam built up a steady rhythm,
still slow but so deep it felt as if he would push himself into my belly. He knew how much I liked to take it from behind, to feel him push as far into me as he possibly could, but in the past there'd always been a certain amount of urgency as he pumped his hips, as if someone might walk in and catch us in the act. Alone there in a hotel room so far away from home not another soul could find us, Sam showed me for the first time exactly what it felt like to be his.
He pushed his thick, swollen shaft through the tight walls of my pussy, banging his hips deliberately against my ass so hard I felt his balls leap up to smack my cunt lips. Whenever he drew back, he left the head inside me, teasing for a few seconds before gliding back inside— that fat head stroking hard until it slammed with a deliberate punch against my aching cervix. Once he struck that barrier, he stayed in place, pushing deliberately hard until I cried out.
In that lingering position, Sam was buried so deep inside me it felt as though we were one, our bodies melded together like some twisted abstract sculpture. "I love fucking you," he told me. An undercurrent of restraint tightened his voice in the back of his throat as he pushed his chest into my back and brushed his cheek against my shoulder. "I live to make you cum." I opened my mouth to answer,
but Sam banged into me so hard the only sound that emerged was a whimper. I wanted to tell him to fuck me faster, but as if he was in no mood to take commands, his cock ploughed through me again and again, deliberately slow until he was fully sheathed with a slam that sent waves of delight through me. "I'm your slave," he whispered, lips caressing the back of my neck before he arched into me, straining his body to ensure that I was full.
If I was his master, he was certainly a defiant slave and I was in no position to turn the tables. Even when he finally tired of taking me from behind, it was with dominance that he rolled me onto my side and fell in before me to lift my leg to rest over his hip so he could push back inside. However, fucking face to face told an entirely different story. I watched his expression, eyes squeezed tight and teeth sunk into his bottom lip as he fought hard to keep from losing
control. Hip bones slamming as he finally picked up the pace, we gyrated together until we reached the perfect rhythm. I was nowhere near reaching orgasm, but every stroke from head to balls was divine and I wanted him to let himself go. "Cum, Sam." I rested my hand on his cheek, fingers sprawled until they tangled into the edges of his hair. "Let go," I whispered, "cum."
It wasn't easy for him to let himself go, and I knew that. As long as I'd known him he'd been meticulous, controlled, but the night we'd given into lust and found each other something inside him changed that he could only truly express when he was inside my cunt. "Cum," I said again, and Sam pumped his hips faster, harder. "Cum for me, Daddy." He'd always liked it when I
played the little girl with him, calling him Mr. Charles or Daddy, and as I whispered that command over and over, my tongue darting out to tickle and caress his ear, Sam's body began to stiffen and I knew it was only a matter of a few strokes until he exploded inside me. Normally he would pull out and cum all over me because he knew how much I liked it, but for the first time ever he let himself relax as hot jiz filled me.
Even after he blew his load Sam stayed inside me, the occasional shudder rippling through him until he finally relaxed and exhaled a long sigh. He rested his head on the pillow across from me, eyes open and a half-smile prodding at the corner of his mouth. "Hi," he whispered. I grinned, "Hi." Leaning forward he met my lips and kissed me slow and long,
drawing it out so I knew just how much meaning and emotion was in that kiss. And then we were silent for a long time, just laying there in each other's arms kissing, smiling, completely exhausted. "Sam," I finally said. He'd closed his eyes for a moment, as if relishing in the uninterrupted bliss we'd found so far from home. "Hmm?" he acknowledged my voice, but still
hadn't opened his eyes. "I…" I started, but stopped myself, afraid to tell him what I'd realized in those few weeks we'd been apart. My stammering silence stirred him and his intense blue eyes found mine. "Tell me." His voice was a gruff whisper and the sound soothed the fear gripping my heart and clenching my stomach. There was nothing I could do but
say it, and if he didn't feel it too at least then I would know. I swallowed against the aching knot lingering at the back of my throat and met his gaze again. "I love you." And once it was out in the open, I could breathe again, even though anxiety and fear of rejection tightened in my belly. Sam was still smiling, an almost coy and playful grin as he lifted his hand from my face and tucked a lock of hair behind my ear. "I'm not
gonna lie to you," he started, and for a brief moment I swore he was going to tell me I was just a stupid little girl all tangled up in her emotions. "I tried like hell not to fall in love with you," he said, "but from the start this was something more than just sex. I don't know," he shook his head. "Maybe it's a mid-life crisis." A momentary twinge of offense shuddered through me and then he added, "But I don't think so. You make me feel things, Sara… things I've never
felt, and if it's wrong to feel them, I don't want to be right." It wasn't a direct "I love you too," but he didn't have to say it for me to know he felt it. We were quiet again; the only sound in the room was the soft whir of the fan unit beneath the window. "So…" I finally broke the silence again. "Now what?" I asked. "Where do we go from here? What do we do about this… this… us?"
He chuckled and rolled onto his back, finally sliding his soft, spent cock from my pussy. "Honestly, I don't know, Sara. You're up here now going to school so we're not going to get to see each other very often." "We've got weekends," I said. "Maybe not every weekend, but…" "And holidays," he added. "But I can't expect you not to explore. That's what college is all about, Sara, finding out who you are,
tasting everything life has to offer and as much as I'd love to go through all of it with you, this is your time." He paused to gather his thoughts, staring at the ceiling as he did, and then he refocused his eyes on me. "You're such an amazing girl now, and whenever I think about how this whole experience is going to shape you in the years to come it blows my mind. I want to be there to watch you grow and come into yourself, but…"
"But it's not practical," I sighed and started to look away, but Sam grabbed my face and held my gaze. "No, that's not what I was going to say," he assured me. "I want to be there to watch you grow and come into yourself, but it wouldn't be fair of me to expect you to give anything up for me. I would never ask that of you. So yes, we have weekends and holidays. We can text and talk whenever you want and you can show me everything you learn, but
I'm not going to ask you to commit to me because that would be selfish." I didn't know what to say to that, but as I processed it in my mind I knew I was about to enter into the most mature relationship I'd ever been a part of. "And believe me when I tell you, girl," he started, his hand relaxing, cupping my cheek, "I do love you." I kissed him then, the desire
stirring between us again until he once more buried his cock deep inside me, our whispered confessions echoing into the long, dark hours of morning: "I love you, I love you, I love you." *** Sam was already in the shower when I woke up the next morning, and I grinned to myself when I realized he was singing. As I rolled onto my back and stretched into his side of the bed, I replayed our
conversation from the night before over in my head. Sam wanted me to experience and explore, become the person I was meant to be and that brought one eager thought rushing to the surface of my mind. I reached over onto the night stand and grabbed my phone. Quickly scrolling through my contacts, I clicked on Juliet's profile and began typing a text. Sam said he's in love with me.
I checked the clock. It was just past ten, and I realized she was probably still asleep. I was just setting my phone back on the table when it chimed with her reply. I laughed as I read: STFU! No way! And can I just say when you said he was smoking hot, I thought you were exaggerating, but DAMN GIRL! He is FINE! I know! I sent that two word
reply and started typing again. So, do you want to have dinner with us tonight? There's something I'm anxious to try. Yes, dinner! What do you mean anxious to try? Sam said he wanted me to explore myself, my urges, and the one urge that had been tickling my mind since Juliet and I had discovered how much we liked to share guys was taking the sharing one step further.
Do you want to come to bed with us? I hesitated for a moment, rereading that text. Her reply was instantaneous. YES! I grinned and for the next few minutes Juliet and I plotted our after dinner delight with Sam. I was just lowering my phone back onto the table when he came out of the bathroom wrapped in a short white towel.
He bent down to greet me with a kiss. "Good morning." "You showered without me," I pouted. "You were sound asleep and so damn cute I just didn't want to wake you." "I'll just have to get you all dirty again so you have a reason to take another shower." I grabbed his hand and tugged
him down into the bed atop me. The towel fell away from his waist, dropping to the floor as he relaxed into position between my legs. His cock instantly stirred, jumping up hard to brush against the cleanshaven lips of my pussy. "We're going to have dinner with Juliet tonight," I told him, wiggling my hips and gliding the slick folds of my cunt along his smooth, hard dick. "And after dinner Juliet and I have a surprise for you."
Sam propped himself up above me and cocked an eyebrow. "A surprise?" I nodded, still grinning. "I like the sound of that," he admitted, and I could feel just how hard his imagination was working when his thick, stiff shaft plunged my depths again. While he fucked me, I fantasized about sharing him with Juliet, but the longer the fantasy endured, the
more twisted it became. In the daydream I took great joy in watching Juliet ride Sam's cock while I sat on his face, but the images shifted and I saw my mouth crushed against hers, her squeezing hands kneading my breasts, pinching fingers hardening my nipples in their teasing grasp. It was all I could think about throughout the day. As Sam and I walked the farmer's market hand in hand, my fantasies continued to
carry me away. And it wasn't just that I was turned on by the notion of finally exploring Juliet in ways I'd wanted to for weeks, it was the realization that I would be doing it with Sam, sharing the things I was learning at college with the man I loved. By the time we swung by the dorm to pick up Juliet at six o'clock, I thought I was going to have to change my panties before we even went to dinner because I was so wet
just thinking about the three of us together after. She slid into the backseat of his Mazda3 and wiggled into her seatbelt before leaning between the seats. "I thought it would never be time for dinner," she giggled, tossing her long brown curls over her shoulder. "What have you crazy kids been up to all day?" "Farmer's market," I shrugged as Sam turned over his shoulder to check the parking lot behind him
before backing out and turning onto the street. "You hungry for Chinese?" I asked her. "Yummy!" she agreed. We directed Sam to our favorite sit down Chinese restaurant and the three of us headed into the bustling building. The dining room was moderately crowded, but our petite Asian waitress guided us toward a paper lantern-lit booth in the front corner and before I could scoot in beside Sam, Juliet grabbed my hand
and tugged me into the seat beside her. She bumped her shoulder playfully against mine and giggled again before opening her menu and scanning it. After we placed our orders, Juliet leaned ever closer to me and Sam leaned back in the booth opposite us to study us with a sly grin. "You two are lucky," he said. "I hated my college roommate." "I love my Sara," Juliet cooed, sliding her arm across my shoulders
and tugging me closer. "We always have lots of fun together, don't we, Sara?" "Mm-hmm," I nodded and grinned across the table at Sam. "And we're going to have lots of fun together tonight, aren't we, Juliet?" "Mmm-hmmm." She pressed her cheek to mine and I could feel her grin widening before she giggled softly. I could tell Sam didn't know
what to make of the two of us, but his eyes shone with excitement at the prospect of discovering everything I'd learned during my short stay on campus. Our waitress brought our drinks with a plate of steamed dumplings and the three of us dug in. Juliet and I giggled, feeding each other half-attempted bites with chopsticks while Sam watched on from the opposite side of the table. We ate, laughed and talked, and the more Sam got to know Juliet, the more he could see
why I liked her so much. She was fun and free, not afraid to try anything once and she was about to become the first girl Sam and I ever shared. When Juliet excused herself to use the ladies room, Sam reached across the table and closed his hands over mine. "She's really something else," he nodded, the anticipation of what was to come gleaming in his eyes. "Isn't she?" I sighed and tilted
my head to look at him coyly. "I really did luck out. Half the people I've met so far this semester hate their roommates." "And you aren't worried?" he asked, glancing back over his shoulder to make sure she wasn't on her way back from the bathroom yet. "What would I have to be worried about?" "Well…" he started. "I don't
know. The two of you… and me…" I swore he almost gulped before going on. "It could get a little weird." "Nah," I shrugged. "We've done it before." "You've…" Had he been taking a drink just then, he surely would have choked. "You two have done this sort of thing before?" "Sorta," I shrugged again. "Mostly trading off, watching each
other, but this time I want to share her completely with someone I know would thoroughly enjoy her." His eyebrows lifted and though he was still holding my hands in his, he leaned his back into the booth behind him and whistled. "Damn," he sighed, shaking his head. I leaned across the table and asked in a soft voice no one else could hear, "Have you ever been with two girls before?"'
He shook his head slowly and leaned in to steal a kiss. "I can see your going to college is going to give both of us quite an education." I grinned against his lips just as Juliet slid back in beside me. "Ooh, what are we whispering about?" she widened her eyes and leaned forward to share the secret. I cupped my hand around her ear and whispered, "We were talking about all the naughty things
we want to do to you." "Ooh," she crooned, sliding her hand up the length of Sam's forearm. "He is a bad little daddy, isn't he?" she laughed. "I think we'll have to spank him." Sam leaned out the side of the booth and called for our waitress, "Check please!" It wasn't very late when we left the restaurant, but it was already getting dark. As we skipped across
the parking lot, Juliet reached down and slid her fingers into mine, squeezing my hand inside hers to let me know that she was looking forward to getting back to the hotel. I glanced sidelong at her, the streetlamp behind her lighting up her face. I couldn't believe that in less than an hour I would finally get to touch her the way I'd been fantasizing for weeks. And it was true. I had never been with another girl before. All kids
play doctor growing up, and there'd been some definite inappropriate touching and exploration, but nothing so severe as what was about to go down between Sam, Juliet and me. Back at the hotel Juliet wasted no time once we'd climbed into the elevator. Sliding her arms around my neck, she pushed me up against the wall and kissed me deep, her soft tongue parting my lips and dipping in to taste my own. Sam
just stepped back beside us and watched, a slow grin drawing the left corner of his mouth while Juliet showed me just how often she too had been thinking about taking things to the next level with me. Sam went ahead of us in the hallway to open the door, but Juliet and I could barely keep our hands off each other. By the time he closed the door behind us she had jerked my shirt up out of my skirt and already unbuttoned it halfway
to the waist. She was more dominant than Sam, and as she shoved me back onto the bed and bounced down to straddle my waist while she finished off the last few buttons on my blouse, I glanced over at him again and watched the fire of wonder and amazing burn in his eyes. Juliet stripped out of her own shirt, unhooked her bra and tossed it over her shoulder, I gazed upon her firm, D-cup tits and imagined
burying my face between them, resting my face against her soft skin as I took the dark pebble of her nipple between my lips to suckle. Not sure exactly where he fit in for the time being, Sam sat down in the chair beside the bed and watched Juliet overpower me. Soon we were both naked, and she relaxed onto the bed beside me. She lifted her leg up over mine, tangling our bodies close before nuzzling the tip of her nose against mine and
then parting her lips to kiss me again. Her tongue tasted like spearmint and her lips like strawberry, and as she hovered over me the soft strands of her hair tickled my face. I lifted my hand to tuck them behind her ear and for a moment I just admired her. She was one of the most beautiful girls I'd ever known, and I'd seen her in action enough times to know that making love with her would be divine. She was
passionate and forceful and she knew exactly how to take whatever she wanted while still ensuring her partner was completely satisfied. "Is Daddy going to join us?" she asked, backing away from my kiss and glancing back over her shoulder at Sam. "You two looked pretty content with each other," he laughed. "I wouldn't want to get in the way." "Nonsense!" she said, as if he
were a silly little thing who needed her to tell him what to do. "Let's make a Sara sandwich." She grinned and wiggled her hips against mine, and for a second I felt the short, neatly trimmed hair that covered her cunt brush against my leg. After he undressed, Sam sat down on the edge of the bed behind me, still not sure where he fit into the mix. Juliet was kissing me again, and I eagerly kissed her back as she reached across my body for
Sam's arm to draw him closer. He finally gave in and curled up behind me, spooning his body against mine even as Juliet lifted her leg to drape it across both of us. Sam's cock was already rock hard and eager to slip inside, so when he grabbed my leg in his arm and lifted it to create the perfect avenue into my pussy, Juliet rolled back for a second to let him push his way into my cunt. He punched in fast, but immediately found the
perfect rhythm and with my leg cocked up into the crook of his arm, that position allowed Juliet perfect access to wide open pussy. She started with her hands, fingers lightly spread as she lowered them down across my clean-shaven lips. She slipped them in between my lips, one on each side and gently squeezed my clitoris before she started to jerk gently up and down. My own fingers fumbled to find her cunt, and as I crawled
them through the thin, neat patch of hair above her sex, she shuddered and bucked a little to grant me better access and before I'd even realized I'd done, I slid not one, but two fingers into her dripping snatch and began to finger her vigorously. She writhed and moaned against my touch, still jacking my clit between her pinched fingers while Sam ploughed in and out of me from behind. And then, still holding
my leg wide open, Sam rocked backwards, lifting me with him so I was riding his cock like a cowgirl bucking a bronco, but it pulled me away from the Juliet's attentive fingers. Seeing no reason to let me suffer the loss, she dropped over the edge of the bed and in between my legs. Kneeling on her knees, she inspected Sam's skilled pounding she saw the perfect moment to dive in and latch her lips onto my clit. While Juliet lapped and sucked,
her wagging tongue dancing delightful circles around my cunt that made me gasp and moan, Sam continued to bounce me up and down the length of his cock. Juliet fondled and kneaded his ball sack in her hand while she ate me out, occasionally dragging her tongue out to slurp my juices from his shaft. Juliet ate pussy better than Sam, though I wouldn't dare ever tell him that. Instead, I reached down to
push her face deeper into my cunt as the selfish need to cum built up inside me. "Don't stop," I pleaded. "I'm gonna cum." "Yeah, baby girl," Sam purred into my ear. Juliet took that as her cue to focus her tongue, and while tenderly suckling my clit, she swirled and swept her tongue until erratic waves of pleasure rushed
through me. She didn't stop there, but continued to suck my cunt while the juices gushing from my hole dripped and splashed with every hard hammer of Sam's shaft inside me. When she finally lifted her face from my snatch, her lips shiny and slick with my cum, I touched her face and said, "I want to taste you." She must have thought I meant that I wanted to kiss her because she rose into my lips to let me taste
my cream inside her mouth. Of course I didn't mind kissing her, but I wanted to do more than just kiss her. I wanted her to cum too, to cum all over my face so I could lick her clean. There was a scrambling moment while everyone changed positions. Sam refused to give up the warm spot between my legs, so while I knelt between Juliet's legs to finally taste my first real mouthful of hot, creamy cunt, Sam slammed into me
doggy style, more turned on than ever as he watched me position myself at the ready to eat Juliet's sweet pussy. I could smell her as I laid my cheek against her thigh, musty but enticing, and for the briefest second I was afraid I wouldn't do it right, that I wouldn't be able to make her cum. The way she'd dove into me and licked me to orgasm so fast, I imagined she'd done this sort of thing before, but my own
experience with pussy eating had started with Sam and that was about as far as it had gone. On the other hand, I loved having my pussy snacked on almost more than having a cock inside it, so knowing what I liked myself, I lowered my mouth to taste her. I darted my tongue out once, then twice, lapping like a kitten at a bowl of milk until I finally began to make love to her cunt with my lips. I must have been doing something
right because Juliet's hips circled and rocked and she pushed herself onto my face while purring soft coos of delight. I'd tasted my own cum before, especially kissing Sam after he'd gone down on me, but Juliet's pussy tasted different. Salty, but sweet, she was so delicious I wanted her to cum even more so I could devour her completely. Remembering how easily I tended to convulse into orgasm when Sam pushed his
fingers in and out of my hole while he ate me up, I slid my index finger into her sopping wet hole, but immediately knew it wasn't going to be enough to satisfy her. I withdrew and bundled my two fingers together and then punched them into her snatch before diving back down to nibble on her click. The combination of my lips and fingers was exactly what she craved, and within minutes I felt her body tense as her back arched to allow
the hot tingling waves of pleasure to course through her. I pulled my fingers out of her when she started to cum, and dove my tongue in deep to suckle every last drop as it gushed from her hole and into my mouth. And knowing how much I appreciated a hard pounding after a good oral orgasm, I backed away and into Sam, delighting for a few moments more in the steady rhythm of his cock inside me, and
then I said, "Fuck her." "Yeah?" he breathed hot against my ear, watching Juliet over my shoulder as he kissed my cheek. "You want me to?" "I want you to fuck her," I said. Sam did not deny me, and after a two more pounding strokes to show his appreciation, he slid out of me and I moved aside to let him at her. He positioned himself missionary style between Juliet's legs and
easily slipped his wet cock inside her. She gasped and bucked upward to accept him, and while they fucked I laid back on the bed to watch. My fingers traveled down between my slippery legs and while the man I loved fucked my roommate, I tickled my clit and just watched. It reminded me of that time Juliet had fingered herself while I fucked the Stafford twins, her intense gaze locked on my face as
she poked her skillful fingers in and out of her dripping, aching hole. I also thought about the trepidation I'd felt before leaving for college when I'd thought about Sam burying his beautiful cock in another woman, but the fact that that other woman was Juliet didn't make me jealous at all. It turned me on and made me want to fuck them both for hours, and while I couldn't stomach the thought of him fucking another woman by himself, I certainly didn't mind watching him
satisfy my dear sweet Juliet. And when Sam was ready to cum, he withdrew from her pussy and returned to me, wanting nothing more than to unleash the hot, spurting geyser about to explode from the bulging head of his cock deep inside me. Lifting my hips up to take him in, I squeezed the muscles of my pussy tight around his cock as he stroked through me, knowing it would only take a minute for him to cum.
When he finally collapsed atop me out of breath, he rolled onto his back between us, Juliet and I both curled up to rest upon his chest. She reached out and took my hand, tangling her fingers with mine. "I could do that all night," she sighed. Sam chuckled and squeezed both of our shoulders. "The night's still young." Juliet giggled and lifted her head to look across Sam's chest at me. "He really is a naughty daddy!"
Sam and I had found the perfect arrangement, I realized. As long as I was away from home at college, getting an education and expanding my horizons, we could continue to explore each other and all life had to offer us. My college education would be a learning experience for us both, and if we were still standing strong when four years was said and done maybe then we could be a couple. In the meantime… I squeezed
Juliet's fingers gently and grinned. "I told you we should spank him." "Mm-hmm…" she purred. "Hey!" Sam laughed and playfully protested, but I could tell he didn't really mean it when he said, "That's no fair, the two of you ganging up like that." "Don't pretend you don't deserve to be spanked," Juliet said, sitting up and drawing me across his chest to kiss me again.
I knew it was going to be a long, slow night, but in the most exciting sense of the words long and slow, and by the time the sun came up, Juliet was finally curled up asleep between Sam and me. He was holding my hand, gazing at me in the dim light from where he rested on the pillow. In just a few hours he would be gone and it would just be Juliet and me again, but there'd be other weekends, other experiments, other partners. Maybe one day Sam would even consider bringing
another guy into bed with us. "Are you glad I came this weekend?" he whispered. "Mmm," I smiled. "So glad." "Me too," he said.
HER BEST FRIEND'S DAD 4
I'd always been a strong student, and when I finished off my first semester with a 3.94 GPA and a nice congratulatory letter from the Dean, it seemed proof to me that college itself was going to be a breeze. Even with all the parties my roommate Juliet and I attended and the long weekends I spent entertaining my best friend Becky's dad, I was doing well and I expected that nearly perfect grade point average to reach 4.0 by the end of
my second semester. Boy, was I kidding myself. Something about college level algebra wasn't sitting right with me, and even though I'd managed to pass high school trigonometry with a B+, it seemed like the numbers in college were written in some ancient alien code and no matter how long I stared at them, willing them to fall in line, they never seemed to work out. My first test ended badly, I mean
really badly, and for the first time in my life I actually felt stressed out about school. It was something I'd never felt before, school stress I mean, and the weekend after I bombed my second test I headed home with my tail between my legs and in desperate need of a long break from everything educationrelated. I didn't even stop off at home. It wasn't like my mom would even notice I'd been there, so after a
long, two hour drive from campus, I parked my car in the driveway at my best friend Becky's dad's house and sat for a long time staring at the closed garage door. Becky's dad Sam and I had been having sex for the last nine months. It started out easily enough, two horny people satisfying each other's needs, but as the month's passed it started to develop into something more than just sex. There were emotions involved, emotions
neither one of us thought we could really explore on account of the forbidden nature of our relationship. How could we be in love when society deemed everything about our relationship wrong? He was twice my age and then some, for crying out loud, and there was no way in hell anyone would understand. But he loved me, and still wanted to see where we might go together, and not just in the
bedroom. In addition to the incredible sex we had, we had the most amazing talks. He was open to me exploring the sexual side of myself, happy to join me in bed with my college dormmate, Juliet, so I could indulge in a few of my bisexual fantasies with her, even if they didn't exactly include him. I'd never been able to so easily share my thoughts and dreams with anyone, and even though he was just months away from turning forty, Sam felt the same way.
Call me an optimistic romantic, but I couldn't see myself with anyone but Sam, and with the weight of the educational world of algorithms and exponential equations crushing me beneath it, there was no one I would rather run to and hide. Unfortunately, he wasn't home. I hadn't even texted him to tell him I was coming for the weekend, so even when he did get home, my unexpected visit might conflict with his plans.
Sam would be at work for at least another two hours, and I was exhausted, so I climbed out of the car, grabbed my weekend bag from the backseat and let myself into the house to take a nap. I crawled beneath the heavy comforter in his neatly made bed and drew his pillow close to me. I breathed it in, comforted by the familiarity of his smell, and closed my eyes. I must have been more tired than I thought because within
minutes I fell into a deep sleep filled with angry number dreams and taunting variables. Professor Barton, who might have been attractive if he weren't such a dick, chased me through a tunnel of churning numbers, lashing at my bare ass with a whip while cackling maniacally. When Sam slid into bed beside me, the room was nearly dark and as I blinked at the glaring red clock on the nightstand table, I couldn't
believe it was after six o'clock. He nestled his chin into my shoulder, the scruffy, but attractive stubble on his cheek bristling against my skin as he whispered, "To what do I owe this pleasure and surprise?" "Mm," I mumbled through pursed lips, leaning back into him and stretching my legs deep into the bed. "I had to come home," I muttered. "Had to get away." "Get away from what?" The arm he'd dropped over my waist
tightened as he drew me back into his chest, his hand slow, but firm as it traveled up to cup my breast and gently squeeze. "Math… Professor Barton," I said. "The 56 percent I got on my last algebra test…" "56 percent?" He sounded as disappointed in me as I felt. "That's not good, Sara." "No," I agreed. "It's not good at all. If I don't find a way to pull my
grade up, I'm going to fail." Sam rolled me around in the bed so we were lying face to face in the half-dark bedroom. Only the light from the hallway made the outline of his profile visible, and for a brief moment it flickered in his grey-blue eyes. "You're not going to fail," he said, and I couldn't believe how certain he sounded. For a moment I almost believed him, or maybe the wandering fingers of his hand
traveling down to stroke my ass beneath the blanket was enough of a distraction that I didn't really care for the moment. "I'll help you," he promised. "Tutor you." His seeking lips found mine, slightly parted and hungry for a taste of my anxious, ready mouth. His tongue darted in to stroke mine in a soothing gesture that was almost enough to make me forget all my troubles. The hand beneath the blanket snuck beneath the
elastic waistband of my panties, wiggling fingers slid across smoothly shaved skin until they met with the folds of my cunt and eagerly parted them. Down through the slick lips of my pussy, Sam's stiff fingers plunged into my quivering hole and began to stroke until a soft moan escaped my throat. My whole body responded to his touch, stomach muscles clenching, hips writhing back and forth as I
fucked his outstretched double fingers. Sam jammed them in deep, sliding them back through deliciously before stuffing them inside me again, but as good as they felt inside me, they weren't enough. I needed a distraction, the one and only distraction in my life powerful enough to take my mind off of my grades. "Fuck me," I pleaded. "Fuck me, Sam." He dove into my kiss as if he
meant to remind me that he was in charge, always in charge. In a forceful struggle he kicked away the comforter and jerked down my panties before wriggling out of his work clothes. He came down atop me, his cock already hard but not yet ready to slip inside me. He glided his thick length through my slick folds, teasing the button of my clit with repeated bumps of his fat, swollen head and delighting in the whimpering plea barely formed on my lips.
I'd come to love the way he dominated me, to relish in the often forceful manner in which he claimed my pussy as if it had always been his, would never belong to another man no matter how many battered their way between my legs and into my sweet spot. He'd told me to explore, wanted me to experience life and return to him to show him what I'd learned out there in the world, but no matter how many guys my roommate and I double-teamed, no matter how
many beautiful girls at school I let drop between my thighs to feast on my sweet juices, Sam seemed to be the only one experienced enough to truly satisfy me. Maybe it was the emotional attachment we felt with one another; I couldn't explain it. "I want you inside me," I said. "Yeah?" he breathed against my lips before claiming them again. "You want my cock?" "Yes! Please fuck me," I begged.
"I'm gonna make you scream, my little girl," he promised. And when he forcefully rolled me over onto my stomach and jerked my ass up in the air, I felt a quiver of excitement shudder through my body. There was nothing in the world more satisfying than him filling my cunt from behind, and while I wriggled and waited, absolutely enthralled with the idea of finally having him inside me after nearly three weeks
apart, Sam swirled the head of his cock around the inside of my dripping, wet slit. When I started to push back to take him inside, he gripped my hips in his hands and held me still with a silent warning to let him run the show. When he was sure I wasn't going to try and envelope his cock inside me again, he withdrew one hand and gripped his length, swirling his fat head once again in slow, deliberate circles just around the
inside of my hole. He was making me so wet that I could feel the slippery juice dripping down the length of my pussy lips, but no matter how much I begged for him to give me every inch of that sweet, fat cock, Sam refused. It felt like torture. The most exquisite, delightful torture I'd ever endured, but it was nothing compared to his actual plan. He toyed and teased for what felt like hours, never pushing all the way
inside me, just circling his head inside my hole while stroking his own length and then he pulled out. I gasped with a desperate cry, wanting only him inside me, and though Sam intended to fill me completely, I quickly discovered his notion of fulfillment was a little different than my own. His cock dripping with my juices, he glided that bulging head up through the space between my pussy and my ass and I jumped
forward a little when I felt his hot, sticky mushroom assume position above the puckered hole of my tightly clenched ass. Sam had never fucked my ass before. In fact, I'd only ever been ass-fucked one other time. Just days into my first semester at college, Juliet introduced me to the Stafford twins, and the two brothers had stuffed me full of cock as they bumped and ground their identical cocks inside me. When I'd told Sam
about it, he hadn't shown much interest in claiming my ass, but now here he was prodding that tight space with the throbbing, wet tip of his dick and I knew I was in for a total reaming. The probing tease was almost agonizing because I remembered the intense stretch of pain from the first time I'd been rammed in the asshole. By the time he finally squeezed that fat tip into my clamped hole, I should have been
ready for him, but I wasn't. Just his head inside me was a delightful combination of agony and ecstasy, and I wanted to pull away but he grasped my hips tight in both hands and squeezed them as he slowly pushed his entire length inside. Sam didn't stop until his shaft was deeply sheathed in my little ass, his cool balls resting against my warm cunt. For a moment he just rested there, as if reveling in the tightest squeeze he'd ever known.
When he began to back out, I almost felt relieved, the muscles instinctively loosening to allow him to exit, but Sam had no intention of pulling out. He rammed back into me, hard and I wailed in delicious pain when his head slammed my gspot from an angle it had never been hit before. "My god," he whispered from behind me. "Your ass is so fucking tight." In and out, he stretched through
me, shuddering at the instinctual squeezing of my muscles around him. At first he was gentle and slow, almost like he couldn't get enough of that tight flexing, but the more he pushed through me, the looser I became until finally even I was writhing back to meet his thrusts. It took awhile to get used to, but finally even I was enjoying the constant, steady glide of his wet cock ramming my asshole. He leaned forward, pumping his
hips and reaching around with his free hand to tickle and stroke my clit. He teased with slow circles around my aching, swollen nub, but soon his flickering index finger matched the pace of his cockthrusts in and out of my ass. Sam always knew how to make me cum quick, whether with his tongue, his fingers or his cock, but I'd never had an orgasm with a dick in my ass, so I had no idea what to expect. And sometimes there was a throbbing ache inside my cunt that
longed to be filled after cumming, but a part of me feared that desire would go unsatisfied and I might wind up wanting something more. Sam bucked and slammed, his fat cock writhing through the muscles of my asshole again and again, his finger fluttering like the wings of a moth across my clit. Occasionally he delved down and coated that fingertip in hot, slippery juice from my empty cunt before gliding back up to tease and taunt
me. He leaned back on his knees, raising his chest and pulling me against him to thrust deeper inside me. At that angle, the continual punch into my ass felt even more intense, as if Sam was practically battering into my stomach, but the more he fingered and stroked me, the closer I came to relaxing into sweet, hot orgasm. I could feel the muscles in my stomach tightening in anticipation, the insides of my
pussy aching, wanting, and when I finally came, Sam shoved three fingers into my hole, stretching and fucking me with his bunched fingers as hot, wet cum gushed down into his palm and dripped over his wrist. "Oh yeah," his hot whisper rushed against my neck just before his flickering tongue darted out to taste the sweat on my skin, suckling lips tugging in a way that made me shiver. "You're Daddy's tight little
girl, aren't you?" "Yes," I cried. Sam loved it when I called him daddy, and sometimes he really liked it when I called him Mr. Charles. It somehow seemed to reinforce the parameters of taboo that surrounded our unconventional relationship. And while I certainly had no sexual thoughts about my own absentee father, something about calling Sam "Daddy" while he fucked me made
me that much hornier. "You love Daddy's cock in your ass, don't you." "Oh god, yes!" "Call me Daddy," he growled. "Yes, Daddy!" "Say it," he hissed. "Yes, Daddy! I love your big cock in my ass."
"Oh yeah," he snarled, his pumping hips grinding desperately hard as his massive tool filled me over and over. I was going to cum again, and as if he knew he slid his fingers out of my cunt again and began to circle them around my clit, jerking me until I convulsed and shuddered while bouncing up and down the length of his cock. The friction was maddening, and I knew if he didn't cum soon I
wouldn't be able to sit down for a week. "Cum in my ass," I pleaded, my words throaty and strangled. "You want my cum in your asshole?" he asked, thrusting hard up inside me and squeezing my biceps tight in his grasp. "Please, yes! Please, cum in my ass, Mr. Charles." Sam shoved me forward into the
pillows again and hiked my ass back into his hips as he slammed into me hard and fast. Every time he pulled back I felt the muscles relax, only to clench like a fist again when he rammed back inside. His thrusts grew quicker, his hip bones pounding into my ass cheeks so hard I was sure there would be bruises there when he was done. His breath was quickening, throaty pants that kept time with every firm, deliberate stroke and
then I felt him shudder into a tense jerk as hot waves of sticky cum pumped into my full ass. He slid through them, pushing deep into me and loosening the fit so it was almost comfortable again. He gave in to three more earth-shattering pounds before he finally fell into rest against my back, his spent cock still buried deep in my ass. "So fucking tight," he managed between breaths. "Tighter than a goddamn virgin."
I felt like I'd been holding my breath for over half an hour and I just wanted to collapse onto the bed and exhale. Sam finally slid his softened cock from my anal cavity and fell onto the bed beside me. I lowered myself slowly, relief mingled with a strange sense of longing to feel him deep inside me again, and I knew he would never forget the glove-like tight fit of my ass. Some of the girls at school had told me how erotic getting assfucked could be, and while the
notion of getting Sam off satisfied me, the next time I would definitely insist on a little more lubrication. "Did that help you get your mind off your grades?" He nudged his shoulder into mine and softly kissed my cheek before lifting his hand up to brush a stray lock of blond hair from my forehead so he could look into my eyes. I grinned and lifted my fingers to rest on his cheek. "What grades?"
He chuckled and turned my chin up to meet his waiting lips. "It's Friday night," he said. "What do you say we hop in the shower, order a pizza and see if there are any movies on cable this weekend?" "Like a real couple?" I asked. That made him laugh again, and then he tousled my hair affectionately before pushing up onto his elbow to rest above me. "A real couple would say fuck 'em all, get dressed and go out to dinner
and an actual movie." He was right, I realized, and as much as I wanted to be a real couple, I was pretty sure he wasn't ready to expose us to the world just yet. "Do you want to go out to dinner and a movie, Sara?" I leaned back to look at him, not sure I believed his tempting offer. A million different thoughts raced through my mind. What would the people in our small town think if they saw us together? What if word got back to my best friend Becky, to
my mom? What would people say about us? "I…" I stumbled over that one word, not sure how to answer. "Do you mean that?" I asked. "Or are you just testing me, or something?" Amusement twinkled in his eyes, I could see it in the light from the hallway. "No test," he said. "I really mean it. I'd like to take the most beautiful girl I know out to dinner and a movie. What do you say?"
For a minute I thought about how hard it was going to be sitting through a movie after he'd just dominated my ass, but it would be worth it. The first positive step toward showing the world we didn't care what they thought of us, of our relationship. "Do I get to pick the movie?" I asked. Once more he laughed, a deep, throaty sound that comforted and
assured me. "Of course." I pretended to think it over for a minute, and then pushed myself up off the bed. "I'll race you to the shower!" "You little brat!" He jumped up and chased me through the hallway and into the bathroom. As I leaned in to turn on the shower on, Sam wrapped his arms around me from behind, tugging me back against him. Steam began to
fill the room as I rested there, eyes closed and completely lost in that perfect moment with him. We'd been able to freely date when he came to visit me on campus, but whenever I was back home for a weekend, we spent most of that time locked up indoors, afraid of exposing our secret, of facing the world and their cruel judgment. Sam climbed into the shower first, then held his hand out to help me in. He slid the glass doors closed
and drew me into his arms beneath the pelting barrage of hot water. Every burning droplet felt like a kiss upon my skin, and when he smoothed the drops through my hair wetting it completely, I stood against him and let him lather shampoo into my long mane. Suds dripped down my back, bubbling against the backs of my thighs before dropping off into the tub and disappearing down the drain. He unhooked the nozzle and washed my hair clean, then turned me
around to spray the bubbles from my skin.
lingering
Water beat against my skin, and when Sam lowered it to spray against my backside, I jumped a little with surprise as he parted my ass cheeks and lifted my leg a little to tickle my cunt with the nozzle. I'd masturbated with the showerhead before, I mean come on, who hasn't, but there was something far more intense and erotic about someone else running
those fast pumping beads of water over my body. Circling his arms around me, he brought the hose with him and lowered it between my legs. He spread my pussy lips apart with two fingers and focused a streaming jet of water on my clit. It tickled and teased, almost as good as a warm, experienced tongue dancing across my nub. "Do you like that?" he asked. "Does it feel good?" "Mm-hmm," I moaned softly.
"It's gonna make me cum." "You're such a dirty little girl," he said. "We're gonna have to wash you clean." He rolled the pulsating nozzle over my clit, deliberately focusing the streams on my sensitive button until I nearly collapsed against him, my entire body shuddering once more with sweet release. I felt him come alive again, his slow-rising cock lifting up to brush the backs of my thighs.
"I don’t think I'm the only one who's dirty," I muttered, slowly turning around to face him. I reached behind him for the soap and lathered up my hands until they were dripping with bubbles and suds. Moving them across his chest, down his belly and into the patch of hair traveling down his groin, I massaged my way attentively down to wash his cock. It slipped through my fingers, bulging at my touch and Sam closed
his eyes to enjoy the slow stroke and glide of my circled fingers jerking their way up his hard shaft. I reached for the shower head and sprayed him clean, and once all the soap was gone he backed me into the wall and lifted my leg up to rest on his hip so he could push his way inside my waiting cunt. Three orgasms and no cock to finish them off had left me wanting, but as soon as Sam filled me I was sated. I didn't even care if his
attentive, deliberate strokes made me cum again or not. I steadied myself against the wall and rested one hand on his chest as the water danced over our bodies. He leaned his face against mine, his wet mouth caressing my cheek, lingering near my ear as he whispered, "I love you, Sara." I moaned as he pushed slow and deliberate, the head of his cock bumping against my cervix. "I love you."
And I did. I loved him more than I'd ever loved anyone or anything in my life. So much that sometimes it terrified me when we were apart, but even more so when we were together because I felt like a lost little girl he'd found and I didn't ever want him to leave me alone again. It was confusing, but so wonderful, and the feeling of his strong, hard dick inside me only seemed to make those emotions that much more intense.
Soon the whole world would know, everyone would see us for what we really were, and as much as that terrified me, it also excited me so much that I felt the tingling waves of pleasure building up inside me again. "I'm cumming again," I told him. That made him stroke harder, faster and though I never imagined it was possible, just as orgasm wracked my body, shuddering through me in rippling delight, Sam
stiffened and jerked as he exploded once more. After cleaning up, we stepped out of the shower and wrapped ourselves in thick, fluffy towels to dry off. Sam was just opening the bathroom door so we could head into the bedroom to get dressed when a familiar voice echoed through the house. "Dad?" I
glimpsed
Becky's
shadow
lingering at the bottom of the staircase and panic seized my body. I looked toward Sam and saw the same deer-in-the-headlights expression stuck on his face. "Um, I'm just getting out of the shower," he called back. "I'll uh… I'll be down in a minute." "Okay," she said. "Is Sara here? I saw her car in the driveway." Sam and I just stared at each other, neither of us knowing what
to say, how to answer her. We were busted, and all those delusions we'd shared before we got into the shower about facing the world and letting them judge us as they would seemed to clench tight in our shaking grasps. The one and only person who really mattered was standing at the bottom of the steps and our secret was just seconds from exposure. Sam shook his head, uncertain of what to say and then he gestured
me toward the bedroom to get dressed. My legs shook so hard underneath me I thought they would collapse, and suddenly college algebra and judgmental stares from strangers seemed like the least of my problems. "Dad?" she prodded him for an answer. "Yeah, Becky." When I glanced back over my shoulder at Sam, he shrugged his shoulders and said, "She's up here with me."
I lingered in the bedroom door for a moment, waiting for her response. "In the shower?" Her voice was tight with disbelief. "Becky, let me get dressed so I can come downstairs and talk to you. I feel like an idiot standing here in a towel shouting from the hallway." "Answer the question, Dad."
"I'll be down in a minute." There was a hard edge to his voice, and for a moment I expected him to push past me as though I wasn't even there, but instead he guided me gently into the room and closed the door behind him. "Sam," I whispered, my voice aching in my throat. "What are we gonna tell her?" He shook his head and walked toward the dresser. "The truth," he said. "It's gonna be impossible to
hide now." I knew he was right, but I was terrified. My heart was hammering so hard inside my chest I thought I knew what it felt like to have a heart-attack. Panic-stricken, I rummaged through my weekend bag for clothes and dressed with shaking hands. When Sam finally rested his hand on my shoulder and nudged me toward the bedroom door, I thought my legs were going to give up underneath me.
"We'll get through this, Sara." He turned me in his arms and drew me close. "It might not be easy, but we'll get through it," and after a moment's pause he added, "together." I swallowed hard and then nodded my head. Sam led the way to the door, slipping his hand down to squeeze mine before he opened it and stepped out into the hallway. Becky was sitting in the living room, her legs bouncing nervously
and her arms crossed tight over her chest. She was glaring, her blue eyes squinted in disbelief when she saw us standing there together. "Jesus Christ, Fucking Christ." "You watch young lady."
Dad.
your
Jesus
language,
"Watch my language?" She pushed up off the couch and for a second I thought she was going to charge at him with fists flying.
"How long have you been fucking my so-called best friend?" "Not long," he admitted. "And it's not like that." "It looks like that to me. I come home and find her car parked in the driveway, both of you upstairs in the shower… How long, Dad?" "Becky," I started, my voice catching in the back of my throat. "You shut up, Sara. Don't even…"
"Don't talk to her like that," Sam held his arm in front of me, as if protecting me from the wrath of his daughter. "Now I know what it looks like, and I don't expect you to understand, Becky, but…" "You're right, Dad. I don't understand. I don't understand how you could do this to me… with my best friend!" "What am I supposed to do, Becky? Spend the rest of my life alone just so I don't hurt your
feelings. I can't help who I fall in love with?" For a moment she just stood there, her mouth open, jaw jumping wordlessly as she tried to process the words he'd said and figure out how to answer them. "You could have been with anyone, Dad. Anyone but her." From the corner of my eye I could see Sam's face, his furrowed brow wordlessly expressing that he couldn't have been with just
anyone; he really couldn't help how he felt about me. He started toward her with his hand outstretched, but she backed away, shaking her head and turned toward the foyer. "Becky, don't walk away. We need to talk about this." There was defeat in his voice, not the usual take charge and command tone that had kept his daughter in line all her life. "It isn't just going to go away if we don't talk about it." "I don't want to talk about it,"
she said over her shoulder, and then she stormed out the front door, slamming it behind her. The loud thunk of her car door banging shut followed an almost violent rev of her engine, and she spit gravel as she peeled out of the driveway with a nasty squeal. Sam just stood there in the same place, as if he was frozen and I didn't know what to do. Inside I was terrified that Becky's outright disapproval had changed things,
and fast, and though I wanted to reach out and comfort him, I feared he would push me away. She was his daughter, his family… I was just… I didn't know what I was anymore. He'd said he loved me, said that try as he might not to fall in love with me, he couldn't help himself, but now that Becky knew had that changed? My heart thundered in my ears, pounded sporadically in my chest and I swear for a second I felt
lightheaded enough to pass out. Then Sam turned and I watched a slow, uncertain grin of attempted comfort draw at the corners of his mouth. "Let's go get dressed and head out to dinner," he said. "I'm starving." I blinked and shook my head a little to clear the cobwebs from my brain. "Sam, don't you think we should talk about this?" I asked.
He stepped toward me and laid his hand on my shoulder. "I don't know what to say right now, Sara. I'm not…" He paused for a moment, as if searching for the right words and then went on. "It's a shock for her, and definitely not the way I would have liked for her to find out, but it's out in the open now so all we can do is pick up the pieces and move forward together. Maybe one day she'll come around." "What about Becky?" My heart
was aching for her, the guilt inside wrangled with hurt over feeling like I'd betrayed her. What if she never came around? "I honestly don't know," he said. "I can't even begin to imagine how she feels," he reached out and took my hand, drawing me close to rest against his chest. "But I do know how I feel about you." His hand stroked down through the damp length of my hair as he held me. "I think I know how you feel. Do we
just let go of all that?" I wanted to cry out, "NO!" but instead said nothing. I didn't know what we were supposed to do. If we had a future together, it might mean a lot of disapproval, so many people in our families, our circles of friends, who would never understand what Sam and I had together. Staying together might mean losing some of the other people in our lives that we loved. Sam turned my chin upward so
our eyes met, and despite the grief and sorrow I saw in his stare, I also saw the love he professed to feel for me. How could it be possible? What had I done to deserve his devotion? "You mean everything to me," he said. "And we will get through this. Okay?" I swallowed and nodded, drawing my lower lip between my teeth to chew away my fret and worry. Sam rested his hand on my cheek and offered a thoughtful
smile. "Think about where you'd like to go out to dinner while we're getting ready," he said. "Anywhere you want to go." While I was in the bathroom doing my hair and applying makeup, all I could think about was Becky. I couldn't begin to imagine how betrayed she felt, and though as much as it hurt trying to envision her pain, the selfish side of me that loved Sam more than I'd ever loved
anyone in my whole life felt entitled to more than her scorn and derision. I felt like she should have let us try to explain, but on the other hand I kept imagining how hurt and angry she must have felt inside, and all I could think about was how much I owed her. More than an explanation, more than apology… I was leaning into the mirror to inspect the smoky finish on my eye shadow when Sam slid in behind
me and wrapped his arms around my waist. He ducked his head down to rest on my shoulder, watching me until I met his gaze in the mirror's reflection. I rested my hand on the vanity in front of me, and for a long time we just stared at each other in the looking glass. It was hard to believe that less than an hour earlier we'd been in the shower, Sam embedded so deep inside me it felt as if we were one being. Had he ever felt
like that while we were making love? Had he ever thought of it as making love? "What are you thinking about?" he finally asked me, tugging my waist into his hips and holding me close. "I don't know," I shrugged. "Becky," I said. "You, me…" He held my gaze for a long time, and then closed his eyes and turned his cheek down to rest on my shoulder. "Do you really love me, Sam?" I
asked. "I mean, really love me?" Shaking his head, he lifted it away from my shoulder. "How could you ask me that?" There was tension in his voice unlike any he'd ever used when speaking to me. "Really, Sara? After everything that's happened… How could you question whether or not I really love you?" "I don't know." I shrugged my shoulders up. "I just… I mean… Is losing Becky because of me…"
"Hey," he turned me around to face him. "Listen to me, Sara. I'm not going to lose Becky. She may not like this, but she will come around. She won't have a choice because I'm not going anywhere, and neither are you." He lifted my face so I had no choice but to look at him. After he seemed certain that I understood, he closed his eyes and bent down to brush his lips against mine. He opened them, tongue darting out to
dance with mine before his arms tightened around me and drew me so close I almost couldn't breathe. And I didn't want to, never wanted to have to breathe without him. His forearms lowered and tightened around my backside and Sam lifted me against him, circling me legs around his waist and turning me into the hallway. He carried me into the bedroom and laid me down in the middle of the bed. All the time I'd taken getting
ready was quickly forgotten as he slowly undressed me and swept in to cover my body with his once more. In the past, sex had always been urgent to a point close to violence, with Sam in control and me at his whim, but his sudden gentleness seemed to spawn from a willingness inside him to show me that he did love me, that whatever was going on between us wasn't about sex. It was something more, some
unbreakable connection of our souls that burned inside us both; a fire that could only be temporarily quelled when we became one. Buried deep inside me, Sam moved slow, drawing out every stroke to make the intensity and emotion last forever. There was only us. Nothing in the world mattered, no one could come between us, and while I had no idea what the future held, while it was just Sam and me, I didn't care. I
would have stayed there entangled in his arms for an eternity if I could, forgetting about that devastated look on my best friend's face, ignoring the building pressure of college life, my failing algebra grade… As he whispered again and again, "I love you, I love you, Sara," none of those things really mattered. There was only us. When Sam finally came, he lowered himself softly onto the bed beside me and drew me into his
arms. More than hour had gone by, and the glaring clock on the bedside table reminded us that it was too late to go out for the night. Too late to head to dinner even though the rumbling in my stomach grew so loud beneath his soft-stroking hand across my tight belly that he laughed. "I've got some pasta downstairs," he said. "Why don't we go make dinner and see if there are any good movies on cable?"
I grinned and leaned over to kiss his cheek. "I'd like that." As I slipped into my pajamas and followed him down the stairs, I didn't let the tension back in. The weekend was going to be ours and as pressing as it all was, I wouldn't think about Becky or school or the world again until Monday morning.
HER BEST FRIEND'S DAD 5
It had been a rough few weeks; no, scratch that. It had been a rough semester and it seemed that everything was somehow connected to College Level Algebra and that asshole Professor Barton who obviously had it out for me. My first failed test had sent me home for comfort in the arms of my… boyfriend… though Sam Charles was hardly a boy. He was my best friend's dad, almost twenty years older than me, and since Becky had
discovered her dad and I were having some sordid, taboo affair, she wasn't exactly my best friend anymore either. She hadn't returned a single one of my calls, texts or emails, and Sam said she was shunning him too. I kept expecting her disapproval to put a strain on Sam's and my relationship; oddly enough we seemed stronger than ever. We took turns visiting each other every weekend and he was
even planning an amazing Spring Break getaway that I couldn't wait to embark on, if for no other reason than to get as far away from Professor Barton and his nasty red pen as possible. But for the most part Sam and I spent our nights on the phone staying as connected to each other as we could. It wasn't easy being so far apart all the time, and most nights I got really lonely… even when Juliet was there to comfort me.
"What are you wearing right now?" I giggled into the mouthpiece of my phone as I rolled over onto my side and nestled down into the pillow. My roommate had gone to a party without me, and though I certainly had no problem masturbating in front of Juliet, a quiet, naughty conversation with Sam felt like just what the doctor ordered to relieve some of the tension tightening my muscles and scrambling my addled brain.
The gruff scrape of tired laughter on the other end of the line followed my question. "You're not really serious, are you?" "Damn right I'm serious," I said. "I wanna know what you're wearing. I can't very well touch myself if I can't get a proper visual to turn me on." I could easily imagine Sam smiling, reclining in bed with the phone between his ear and shoulder. "It turns you on to know
I'm wearing my boxers and a Tshirt?" "Ooh, which boxers?" I cooed into the phone. "Uh…" Blankets rustled as he moved around in bed. "I think they're red and black plaid. What are you wearing?" "The shirt I stole from your top drawer last weekend." "You
stole
my
shirt?"
he
chuckled. "Which one?" "I don't know, it's grey and it has some spaceship on it. The Starship Enterprise or something." "Hey! I was looking for that." I stretched my legs under the blankets, relishing in the cold feel of the sheets against my naked skin. "Now you know where to find it." I said. "You gonna come and get it?" I listened to Sam stretch into a
comfortable groan. "I am gonna come and get it and when I get there I'm gonna spank that tight thieving ass of yours, you naughty little girl." "You know I like it when you spank me, Daddy." "You love the sting of my palm across your backside," he breathed softly across the receiver, his tone low and husky, so seductive that combined with the visual of him spanking me, I could feel my twat
tighten in tingling anticipation. "Mmm," I sighed, the flat palm of my hand sliding down over the smooth surface of my tummy and beneath the elastic waistband of my thong panties. "All I have to do is close my eyes and I can feel it," I muttered, fingers sweeping over the bare skin of my clean-shaven cunt and between the throbbing lips around my clit. I fluttered my fingertip slowly over that pulsing button.
"God, I can't wait to jam my cock into that tight wet pussy of yours," Sam said. I imagined his own hand gripped gently around his shaft and slowly stroking upward while he spoke. "Balls slapping against your ass while I ram you so hard it hurts." "I love the way you hurt me," I told him. "When you fuck me in the ass…" I scooped my index finger down through my slippery, aching folds and pushed into my hole to
moisten the tip before diving down deeper to probe my own ass. "God it fucking hurts so good, Sam." "Yeah?" I could almost hear the rustle of fabric as he slipped out of his boxer shorts to get a better grip on his dick while he stroked it. "You like my cock in your ass?" "Oh yeah," I cooed. "It's so fat and hard." With my free hand I pushed the speaker button on my phone and rested it on the pillow beside the bed. "I'm so wet right
now. Just thinking about it is making me want to cum." "I want you to cum." "Are you touching yourself?" I asked. "I am," he confirmed. "My cock is throbbing in my hand." "Jerk it for me." While pushing one finger slowly in and out of my ass, I fluttered the index finger of my right hand across my aching
clitoris. "Stroke your cock and imagine I'm there sucking it." Sam groaned softly, the aching sound of imagined bliss caught in the back of his throat. "No one sucks cock like you, baby girl." "That's right," I said. "I wish I could suck your cock right now." "Mm," he moaned again. "Me too. I'd give anything to feel your lips, that devilish tongue of yours…"
"Just thinking about sucking your dick makes me so wet, Sam." "I want whispered.
to
taste
you,"
he
Sam had been the first guy to ever eat my pussy, a forbidden pleasure I'd only ever fantasized about before his perfect mouth fell upon my mound and made me shudder and cry out with such bliss I swore I'd melt right into his living room floor. After Sam, there'd been other guys and then there'd been
Juliet, but it was true. No one knew how to make me cream like Sam did. I swept my finger down into my hole again, swirling it around until it was nice and wet before I rose back up and flickered the hard nub of my clit so fast it would only take a minute or two before I exploded. "…dive my tongue deep inside you and drink you as you cum all over my face," Sam went on, igniting an already out of control fire inside me that would soon
explode like Fourth of July fireworks. "You always taste so sweet." "God I want you to fuck me." I pushed deeper into my ass while my fluttering fingertip stroked me closer to the edge of oblivion. "I just want you inside me." "I'm gonna give it to you so hard tomorrow night," he promised. "Bend you over the hotel desk and ream you until you scream."
"Yes," my whisper came out in a pleading whimper. "Fuck you everywhere we go," he promised. "In the shower, the restraint bathroom, the hotel elevator…" "Oh Sam," I cooed, the thought of him spreading me wide in the elevator making me hot, but the notion that we could get caught by a lobby full of flabbergasted onlookers drove me into shuddering convulsion. The
muscles in my stomach tightened and the clenched walls of my cunt released as my body shivered in response. My already wet pussy would be dripping by the time I was done, and even though there was no cock at hand to slide in and rock me into a deeper state of bliss, knowing he'd be there before long was almost enough to sate me. "Are you cumming?" he asked. "Yes," I cried. "Yes, Sam. Oh yes."
"That's my good girl." His soothing praise made me long for his arms around me, for his chest to lay my head against while curling up to go to sleep. I could almost feel his soft stroking fingers brushing through my hair, against my cheek and shoulder before traveling down to tickle the sensitive curve of my spine. "Now I want you to get a good night's sleep," he said. "And dream about me, baby girl. Dream about all the things I'm gonna do to
that beautiful body of yours when I get there." "Sam," I said softly. "I love you." "Mm," he released a gentle breath. "I love you…"
****
"Professor Barton is a fucking dick!" I was seething, slamming my
stuff around when I huffed into the room. I threw my knapsack down so hard it skidded across the floor and toppled over the empty cup resting beside Juliet's bed. She sat cross-legged in the middle of her mattress, one earbud in and the other dangling at her chest, the hypnotic rhythm of Ravi Shankar humming peacefully against her breast. "Oh no," she popped the other earbud out and reached down to turn off her iPod.
"Are you kidding me? You worked so hard on that stuff, Sara." I threw the crumpled wad of paper I'd been balling in my hand all the way across the room onto her bed and she reached a tentative hand out to grab the paper, her eyes large with disbelief. "You studied so hard." "I swear to god," I hissed, flopping back onto my bed and leaning across the floor to grab my BlackBerry out of my backpack. "I
thought I aced that test when I got up. I was the last one to finish and I double-checked all my work. What the fuck?" She uncrumpled the wadded test and smoothed it out atop her chemistry homework to have a look. I couldn't watch, for fear that I was wrong and I really had bombed another algebra test. Bombing tests wasn't something that happened to me, but lately it seemed like I was bombing everything in my life.
And as if he'd sensed I was in desperate need of a pick-me-up after that nightmare test grade, my BlackBerry signaled a BBM from Sam. You aced your test, right? I felt the pressure of that expectation build up behind my eyes in a tearful headache about to burst. Haha! Fat chance. I got a 47%. WTF? "Um, Sara," Juliet lifted the paper from atop her book and waved it like a surrender flag for me
to reach out and grab onto. "This is bullshit. I just went over the first three problems, and I'm no professor, but all the work is right and so are your answers. And he's scribbled all over them like some kind of mental patient." "What?" I practically tore the paper from her hand. "I didn't get past the first three answers," she said. "But they're right, Sara. It's like he's just fucking with you, or maybe he hit his head
or something before he sat down to grade you're test…" "You're kidding," I balked at that news and quickly texted for Sam to call me. At first buzz of my phone ringing, I lifted it to my ear and said, "Juliet said it's bullshit." "Whoa, ho, ho. Juliet says what is bullshit?" Normally, just the sweet sound of Sam's voice was enough to take the edge off of any
problem stressing me out, but suddenly I was so mad I couldn't even think straight. "The test score. She said the first three answers, which he marked up like some kind of two-year-old who got his hands on the pen in his mommy's purse." "Slow down," he soothed. "If Juliet says the answers he marked wrong are correct, maybe you two should sit down and figure out how many of those answers are right
and then take your test into his office hours and ask him what gives." "That's exactly what I'm going to do," I assured him. "Hey, I'm leaving to come up there as soon as I finish loading the car. If Juliet doesn't have plans for dinner, ask her if she wants to come along with us." "If I make it to dinner without exploding…"
"You're not going to explode," Sam promised. "I'm sure there's a reasonable explanation for it." "Yeah, he has it out for me." "He doesn't have it out for you. Maybe he's just a tough grader." "Sam…" I had to bite down on my tongue to keep from lashing out at him over the phone and accusing him of taking sides with the devil. "I'm really angry right now," I reminded him.
He clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth and exhaled a sympathetic sigh. "I'll give you a massage you won't forget tonight, and I promise by the time I'm done with you, you won't even remember Professor Barton's name." "Barton has office hours right now," Juliet interjected. "Okay Sam, he's in his office now. I'm taking my test and going over there to confront him."
"Keep a cool head, Sara," Sam advised. "If you go in there guns ablazing, it's just going to make things worse." "Maybe I should make things worse," I said. "Maybe I should punch him in his smug, stupid face." Sam chuckled. "You could do that, but I gotta tell ya… it's gonna blow our weekend plans if you have to spend the whole time in jail. Take a deep breath before you go
over there and try to be reasonable." I heard him slam the trunk of his car. "All right, dollface, car's packed. I'm on my way. I'll be there in two hours. Call me and let me know how things go, okay?" "Okay," I exhaled my tension and focused on the promise of playing with him and Juliet all weekend. "I love you." "I love you too, darlin'." I dropped my phone on the side
of the bed and shook my head. "I'm going over there right now." "You want me to come with?" Juliet was already leaping off the bed to get dressed. "I can hold him down while you pummel him." "Don't tempt me," I grinned. "I should probably go by myself." "Okay, but if you need me, I'll be right here waiting." She leaned across the space between our beds and tucked a stray lock of my
blonde hair behind my ear. "And I'll make you feel all better if he hurts your feelings." I knew Juliet's idea of making me feel better, and the thought of her skilled tongue dancing across my clit while she glided her fingers in and out of my twat would definitely make me feel better, but it wouldn't help my grades. "I know. Thanks! You've been such a good friend these last few weeks." I pushed up off the bed,
bent down and kissed her cheek appreciatively. "Oh, and Sam wants you to go to dinner with us tonight if you're not busy." She raised her eyebrows and grinned. "I'm never too busy to play with you and Sam." "Sweet!" With that I grabbed my test and marched back out of the dorm and halfway across campus to face the beast. On the walk over there I tried
to understand why he'd do something like that. Was he crazy? Had he mixed my test up with someone else's? I also wondered if my other tests were just as correct and he had some strange vendetta against me. Either way, I wasn't going to stand for it. I'd go straight to the head of the Math department… just as soon as I figured out who that was. Of course, by the time I stood outside his office door my gusto
had vanished and I noticed my hand trembling just a bit as I lifted it to knock on the half-open door. I peered around the door and spied him sitting at his desk, one hand propping his head as it stroked through his short-cropped blonde hair. He looked up, his bright-blue eyes seeming to roll almost sarcastically when he saw me standing there. "Miss Kirkman," he acknowledged with a nod. "Come
in." I nudged the door open and slipped inside his neat office. I glanced around at everything in its place and tried to gauge his personality beyond campus. There was a photograph on the bookshelf beside his desk of a young blonde woman grinning ecstatically, her face pressed against his and oddly enough he was smiling too. I couldn't remember ever seeing him smile, and for a moment glimpsing
such a personal side of him gave me a glimmer of hope. Maybe he was human after all. "What can I do for you?" he asked, gesturing me toward the chair on the opposite side of his desk. I sat down, smoothing my skirt down my thighs before I leaned forward and laid my crumpled test down on the desk. He inspected it for a moment, the quirk of a bemused grin tugging at the corner
of his mouth when he saw the wrinkles it had endured in my clenched fist. "Sir, my test…" I started, swallowing against my nerves in hopes that it would take the shaking edge off my voice. "I don't understand why I'm doing so poorly in your class. I've never failed a test in my life, and this semester I have bombed every single one of your exams and quizzes." "Clearly you don't understand
the material," he shrugged, leaning back in his chair to look at me. I watched the way he smugly crossed his arms over his chest and felt my left eye twitch under the pressure of his ridiculous assumption. "Actually sir, I studied all week for that test. I knew the material inside and out and after we looked over my exam," I pointed to the paper on his desk, "we discovered that the first three answers, which you marked wrong, were actually
not wrong. There is nothing wrong with those answer, or the way I arrived at them. I did everything just like you told us to in class." The thin line of his eyebrow darted upward, as if he couldn't believe I'd been so blunt with him, but I couldn't let him scare me. My grade depended on it. He lifted up the paper and barely glanced over it before crumpling it into a tight ball and tossing it into the trash can beside. My heart,
which was already thumping wildly in my chest, surged and then I swore it stopped beating completely. "Miss Kirkman," he started, then held the rest of what he was going to say inside, his cheeks puffing out before he exhaled and pushed himself up out of the chair. He crossed the room and closed the door to his office before making his way back to the desk. Instead of resuming his seat, he sat down on
the edge of the desk right beside me and leaned back to look at me again. "You may not think much about us when you leave the classroom, but we think about you." "We?" I shook my head, not understanding what he was saying. "Your professors," he said simply. "We watch you strut across campus, giggling with your girlfriends. We see you downtown hanging all over your boyfriends and experimenting sexually with
your dormmates." "Excuse me—" I began to interject, but he held his hand up to stop me. "We know who does and doesn't study," he said. "And with as often as I've seen you and Miss Maynard bouncing half-naked from frat party to frat party, I already know how much effort you put into your school work. Perhaps you should have taken Sex and the Citizen with Professor Gordon this semester."
"That's bullshit!" I remarked, starting to rise from the chair. "I study my ass off, especially for your class." "Do you?" he smirked. "Do you really?" "Yes," I said matter-of-factly. "I really do. And I don't bounce from frat party to frat party as often as half the girls in our dorm, and even if I did, as long as I show up to class on time every day, what I do outside
your classroom is none of your business." "I like to make it my business," he shrugged. "Why are you even here, Miss Kirkman? I'm not going to change your grade. I gave you the grade I believe you deserve." I could feel the blood in my veins hit boiling point, my hands clenching the arms of the chair around me. "I'll go to the head of the department," I threatened.
His smirk grew as a harsh laugh scuffed across the back of his throat. "I am the head of the department, and I golf every Sunday afternoon with Dean Gresh, so whining to him won't help your cause either." "Are you kidding me?" "No, Miss Kirkman." His smile was so smug it made me feel sick to my stomach. "I'm quite serious." "So you're just going to fail me
because you feel like it?" "Probably." "That's not fair!" I objected, pushing up out of the chair. "Welcome to adulthood, Miss Kirkman." I wanted to charge at him, fists flailing, but my hands were still clenched at my sides. I could feel my nails digging into my palms and knew later it was going to sting.
"You don't… you can't…" "I do and I can. Now if you'll excuse me, my office hours are over." "I'm going to talk to Dean Gresh about this," I assured him. "I don't care how often you play golf." "You do that," he said. "Enjoy your weekend." I just stood there for a minute seething. I thought for sure my
head was going to explode right there in his tidy little office, but it didn't. I blinked away the tears wetting my lashes and shook my head.
****
"So let me get this straight," Sam started, swirling his spoon through his bowl of chowder absentmindedly. "He told you he's
just going to fail you because he feels like it." "That is exactly what he told me." For the most part I was really laid back girl, but I'd never been so angry about anything in my life. It had been four hours since I'd left Professor Barton's office and I was still fuming. To make matters even worse, Juliet's mother had called just as we were leaving for dinner to tell her that her grandmother was in the hospital, so on top of my rage
I was really worried about my friend. "He told me not to even bother going to the Dean because they golf together every weekend." "Wow," Sam shook his head, a sandy lock falling across his brow and shuddering in the exhale of his sighing breath. "And you're sure the answers on your test are right?" "Sam…" "All right, all right. I'm sorry. I just want to make sure."
"Juliet and I went over them together three times before she left. I made two mistakes on the entire test, but they weren't mistakes large enough to fail. Especially not that drastically." Sam reached across the table and took my hands inside his. He caressed the tops of my knuckles beneath his thumbs in a soothing attempt to salvage my sanity so we could at least try to enjoy our weekend together. "We'll figure
something out, darlin'. Maybe he was just bluffing about the Dean." I started to pull back so I could slouch into my seat with a sigh, but Sam held fast to my hands and squeezed in another reassuring attempt to placate me. "It's too late to drop that class, Sam. For the first time in my life, I'm going to fail. I know math isn't my strongest subject, but Jesus…" "I know, babe." He leaned across
the table, drawing me over and resting his forehead against mine. "If that's the case, you'll retake it again next semester with a different prof. It'll be okay." That was easy for him to say. He'd been out of college for almost twenty years and he already had a cushy job he loved. At the rate I was going, I'd wind up in college forever, working as a janitor on the weekends to get by and pay my eternal tuition. "You know you're
probably going to have to take care of me for the rest of my life now. I won't ever be able to get a job… I'll be stuck in school until I'm fifty…" He chuckled, drawing back to look at me. I loved the way his bluegrey eyes shone even in the dimmest light, the soft etching of crow's feet lining the edges. "Now you're just being melodramatic," he scolded. "Not that I wouldn't take care of you… because I would." "Yeah?" I turned my head to
study him seriousness.
and
gauge
his
Sam and I had only briefly talked about the future, mostly while lying entangled in the dark after making love. Even though we knew we wanted a future together, with all the tension our relationship seemed to cause the actualization of those quiet fantasies felt untouchable most of the time and that made me feel really sad because as immature as it might have sounded, I couldn't
imagine a future without Sam in it. He was like my soul mate. "Yeah, Sara. I would." He squeezed my fingers again and backed away when the waiter brought our main courses to the table and laid them out in front of us. I was just about to dive into my chicken alfredo when a familiar shadow breached the entrance to the restaurant and signaled the dying nausea to rise up the back of my throat again.
"Oh my god," I muttered, dropping my fork onto the plate. "You've got to be kidding me!" "What?" Sam followed my gaze toward the door where an elegant young woman was slipping out of her coat thanks to the helpful hands of her adoring, asshole husband. It was Professor Barton and the grinning woman from the photo on his shelf. "Is that…" "Professor Barton," I gulped.
The sides of Sam's face flushed with splotches of anger and for a minute I thought he was going to rise up from the table and rush over to defend my honor. "He looks like a real asshole," Sam noted, turning back in his chair just as the hostess began leading Professor Barton and his willowy young wife in our direction. "Don't look at him," I said. "The last thing I want is to talk to…" "Miss Kirkman." His smug grin
made me so angry I wanted to reach out and tear off his face. "How nice to see you again." I started to open my mouth but Sam intervened before I could tell the good professor just how nice it was to see him too. "You must be Professor Barton." He rose from the table and extended his hand. "Sam Charles," he said. "Sara's told me all about you." "All good things, I hope." Professor Barton flashed me a
wicked grin that only seemed to pour fuel on an already raging inferno inside me. "You're a lucky girl, Sara, to have your father come all the way up here to have dinner with you." "Actually," Sam began, "I'm not her father." "Oh." For a moment the professor squinted between Sam and then me, and then his smile softened a little. "I see," he said. "This beauty right here is my wife,
Brenda." "So nice to meet you," she smiled at me and then Sam before nudging into her husband's arm. "We should let these nice people enjoy their dinner, Alex." "Perhaps we could join you," he said, flashing that softer grin at me again. "I feel terrible about the way we left things this afternoon in my office." "Oh no. What did you do this
poor young woman, Alex?" Brenda leaned forward and touched my arm, her soft fingers curling around and squeezing gently. "Is he harassing you, Sara? Goodness knows he's got a thing for the pretty ones, a new one every semester. How do you think he hooked me?" When she winked at me I didn't quite know how to take her statement. "He used to fail me when I was in his class just to get me into his office. Sneaky little prick."
I think my jaw dropped down into my lap at that point and even though I hadn't removed my astounded gaze from Professor Barton, I could feel Sam's eyes on me. "Mr. and Mrs. Barton, if you'll just come with me, your table is all ready." "Actually," Sam interrupted the hostess, "would you and your lovely wife like to join us?"
I wondered in that moment if he could feel the daggers shooting from my eyes. What the hell was he doing inviting the devil to sit at our table, especially after his wife had just confirmed that the good professor was playing some sick game with me in an effort to get into my pants? Before he could catch my glare Professor Barton drew out the chair to my right for Brenda to have a seat. "We'd love to join you."
When Sam finally caught my gaze, he offered a reassuring smile, but I couldn't see how sitting at the same table with Doctor Satan and his beautiful young wife was going to solve any of my problems. After the waiter stopped by to take the Barton's order, the professor leaned in with his elbows on the table and grinned. "I have to tell you, it's a relief to meet another couple like Brenda and myself. Most of the couples in
our circle of friends are uptight, middle-aged conservatives with no sense of adventure at all." "Our life is a real adventure, that's for sure." Sam winked across the table at me, but I didn't soften my pinched mouth. "How long have you together?" Brenda asked.
been
"It'll be a year in May." When Sam said that, I relaxed a little. It had always seemed like guys could
care less how long they'd been with a girl, but Sam seemed to be counting off the months with pride, rather than dread. "How about you?" "Our three year anniversary was last Tuesday." "Congratulations." There was just no way to feel comfortable in that situation, and the more I thought about what Brenda said about Professor Barton
failing me on purpose to get me into his office so he could try to fuck me, the more annoyed I was with the whole situation. I mean really, who did that sort of thing, and why wasn't Sam more perturbed by the situation? As dinner wore on, I found myself cozying up to Brenda. She was a nice girl, only four years older than me and she had to be a firecracker to keep that egomaniac she called a husband in line. I liked
her, and by the time Professor Barton insisted on paying our check, I was the first one to chime in with, "Sure, that sounds like fun," when Brenda asked Sam and I if we'd like to come back to their place for a drink. I slid into the car beside Sam and drew the seatbelt across my lap as he started the car. "You sure you're okay with this?" "Sure," Brenda."
I
shrugged.
"I
like
"Good," he nodded, pulling into traffic to follow the Bartons. "She seems nice, and maybe if you can get in good with her, she'll convince her husband to go easier on you." "Maybe." Sam reached across the car to rest a hand on my thigh. "He does seem like a bit of a dick though," he noted. "Real full of himself." "Yeah," I agreed. "It doesn't
bother you in the least bit knowing he's only failing me to try and blackmail me into fucking him?" "Does it bother you?" he asked. "I mean, come on, Sara. It's all part of the college experience we talked about back in September. I want you to experience every aspect of college, to really live while you're here so when you finish college and we're ready to settle into whatever it is we have here… I don't know, you won't feel like I squashed the
most exciting years of your life." We had agreed my first semester in college to let things fall where they might, but I'd never imagined that freedom would wind up meaning I slept with my professors to make sure I passed their classes. I just looked across the car at Sam, watching the passing headlights make shadows across his face. "When I imagined bouncing through the most exciting years of my life, I never thought that would
mean prostituting myself out to make sure I passed my classes, Sam." "Oh come on, Sara," he laughed. "It's just a game to that guy. He's an asshole, but I saw the way you looked at him at dinner. You find him attractive." I swallowed against the dryness in my throat. I had checked Professor Barton out a few times during dinner, and I'd definitely thought about him in class more
than once, but Sam was right. The guy was an asshole and the thought of him touching me that way made me feel a little queasy. "He's not physically unattractive, no, but mentally he makes my skin crawl. How many girls has he manipulated into fucking him with that trick, and Brenda… what the hell is wrong with her that she would marry a guy like that?" "Maybe she likes to watch?" Sam teased.
"Maybe you and Mrs. Barton have more in common than I ever dreamed." I glanced out the window to my right and watched the trees zoom by us on the highway. Sam loved to sit back and watch while Juliet and I went at each other, but he'd never been privy to my escapades with another guy before. Sometimes he asked, but for the most part he didn't seem to have any interest in who I had sex with while I was at
school. It was a rather convenient arrangement, and the freedom that allowed me to stray kept me closer than he could imagine. I had only been with maybe two or three guys since Sam and I had said our I love yous, and that had only been to mix things up with Juliet and a couple of the other girls we hung out with. "So I like to watch," he shrugged as I returned my gaze back to him. "It makes me hot when I see someone else give you pleasure."
"Really?" "Really," he nodded. The flashing red of Professor Barton's turn signal led us left and into the gated driveway of the incredible manor he and his wife shared. I wondered which of them had old money as we circled in and parked behind them. Before I could reach in and unbuckle my seatbelt, Sam's hand fell softly over mine, fingers curling
and squeezing in unspoken reassurance. He leaned across the car and brushed his lips against my cheek. "If he propositions you and you're not comfortable with it, just say the word and we'll be gone, okay?" I nodded and nestled my cheek against his, relishing in the gruff brush of his five o'clock shadow against my skin. Brenda opened the car door and drew me out of the car by both
hands. "I'm sure you're wondering why I'd get involved with a prick like Alex, but you're about to find out," she nudged into my shoulder before slipping her arm around my waist and leading me in through the double front doors. "His father died about a year before we met, leaving everything he had to Alexander. Old money," she confirmed my thoughts. "His grandfather was in coal and oil." "Nice," I nodded, following her
into the expansive foyer. "Knowing she only married me for my money never fails to get me hot," Alex said, dropping a kiss on her cheek as he moved in beside her. "Come into the study and make yourself at home." He led the three of us down a long hallway to the left of the staircase. His study, hell the whole house, was like something right out of a movie, but when I sat down and Brenda scooted in to sit so close to
me I could barely move, I had a feeling that movie was about to take an x-rated turn. She left Sam no choice but to sit down in the brown leather chair on the other side of her and when I looked over at him he just shrugged and flashed his devil-may-care smile. "Don't get me wrong," she started. She leaned back beside me on the sofa and crossed one long leg over the other, stretching her foot inside her sliver slingback heels.
"The money is nice, but he's a real tiger in bed too." Alex ignored her and turned to Sam. "You look like you appreciate good Scotch." "Definitely." "And for you, Miss Kirkman, how about a glass of Chardonnay?" Before I could protest, he was already uncorking the bottle and pouring the lightly tinted clear liquid into a glass for me. "It'll help
you relax." "If you're worried about him getting you drunk to try and take advantage of you, don't," Brenda chuckled. "He likes to make sure you're completely aware of what he's doing to you." "So…"I started, "this is exactly what I think it is then?" I asked. I caught Sam's stare for a moment and then looked over at Professor Barton. The professor
offered a tight-lipped grin and then stalked toward me to hand the glass down into my trembling hand. "Brenda and I have an open marriage," he explained. "It's one of the things that keeps our relationship strong, and as I mentioned earlier this afternoon I do pay attention on campus, Sara. I've seen you and Ms. Maynard together. Sam obviously has no issue with you doing a little muff diving now and then."
"I think it's good for Sara to explore her options while she's here at college," Sam explained. "Get it all out of her system while she's young. I wouldn't want her to feel like I held her back." "Smart man." The professor handed Sam a glass of Scotch. "She's an attractive, intelligent young woman and no doubt she'll one day make an amazing wife who understands that as a man you have needs too."
"Indeed, I do." As strange as the situation we were in made me feel, I was surprised at the lack of jealousy I felt when I saw Sam's eyes travel the length of Brenda's bare leg. "I'm not a difficult man, regardless of what you might think, Miss Kirkman," Alex said, dropping into the chair opposite the sofa. "You're a brilliant student and I know you study hard. I'm willing to let you sail on through my class this
semester with the grades you deserve, but in exchange I'd like you to do something for me." "Have sex with you," I said. Professor Barton's smug smile softened as he leaned back in the chair and sipped his Scotch. "Have sex with us," he corrected me. "Both of you. Sam and Brenda, you and me…" "You do realize this is blackmail, right?"
His chuckle sent shivers through me. "It's only blackmail if you don't want it, but I've seen you in my class, Sara. You want me." His arrogance should have been enough to make me throw up, but it was true. I had fantasized about him in class, wondered what he looked like without his clothes on, if he was any good at eating pussy or if he was just a selfish bastard who only cared about getting himself off. I caught Sam's eyes
again, waited for him to tell me what to do and then he offered me a curt, single nod. "All right," I agreed. "But I want a taste of Brenda too." Alex's eyebrows lifted at my demand, and Brenda fell against my shoulder with a high-pitched giggle. "Deal! Tell her it's a deal, Alex." "It's a deal then," he grinned. Brenda
held
her
glass
of
Chardonnay up and said, "Let's toast on it." The three of us lifted our glasses, chiming the crystal together in agreement and as Sam sat back in the chair he winked at me. I couldn't believe he was really okay with this, but if he was, it could mean life-changing things for our relationship. After downing the last swallow of wine in her glass, Brenda jumped up off the sofa and held her hand
out to me. "Let's start this party in the hot tub, Sara," she said. "It'll help relax away that tension." "You girls go on ahead," Alex nodded toward us. "Sam and I will be along in a moment." Before I could even protest that I needed Sam with me to endure this escapade, Brenda ushered me out of the room and I had only a second to glance back over my shoulder at him again to make sure he was okay with everything about to transpire.
He offered that nod again, his eyes shining with concurrence and then Brenda whisked me around the corner, down the long hallway, through the kitchen and into the bathhouse to change out of our clothes. I sat down on the edge of the bench to slip out of my high heels and stockings. "This is going to make Alex so happy," Brenda told me, yanking her blouse out of her skirt and
starting on the buttons. The red lace bra cupping her ample breasts sent tingles of excitement rushing beneath the surface of my skin. "He's been gushing about you nonstop since the beginning of the semester." "Really?" I stood up to unzip my skirt and slid it down my hips. I unhooked my own bra and folded it atop my clothes before hugging my arms over my chest. "Oh yeah, almost obsessively,"
she said. "I swear, if we hadn't run into you at the restaurant tonight, I was about to hunt you down and proposition you myself just to shut him up." I didn't know what to say to that, so I just rubbed the goose flesh from my arms while I waited for her to hand me a towel from the cabinet. I wrapped it around my naked body, ignoring the chills rippling through me. "So… you guys do this a lot?" I
asked. "As often as we can," she admitted. "Alex is right, it really has made us stronger. I mean, it's just sex and if I can monitor who he's with, maybe even join in from time to time, what's the sense in being jealous? It keeps us honest, ya know?" "I guess," I shrugged. "You and Sam," she started. "You've never done anything like
this before?" "Threesomes," I said. "With my roommate." "Nice." She drew her pink tongue across her glossy, lower lip and grinned. "But maybe it's time he gives you a threesome," she said. "Fucks you with another guy for a change." I had to admit that in all my fantasies, I'd never envisioned Sam giving over to the idea of a
threesome with another guy. Sure, he liked to watch me with Juliet, and he loved to join us, but it was easy for him to say he got off on my pleasure. How easily would he give over to the idea of fucking me while another guy was inside me? "Maybe," I shrugged. "We'll have to see where things go." "Well, wherever it goes, let's have fun with it," she said, pinning her long blonde hair up in a loose bun atop her head. She leaned in
and dropped a reassuring arm over my shoulder, tugging me closer and then leading me out into the hot tub. We lifted off the cover together and sunk down into the steaming water. I rested my back against the side and waited while she turned the jets on. Within a matter of seconds the hot water was bubbling and pulsing around us and Brenda fell in to sit beside me. Snuggling her shoulder up against mine, she
stretched her long legs out beneath the bubbles and laid her head back as she unleashed a long sigh. "I have to tell you, I really need this," she said. I almost jumped when I felt her long fingers trail across my knee beneath the water, squeezing gently as they moved up my thigh. "It's been awhile since we met a couple where the woman wasn't afraid to let me touch her." I closed my eyes and willed myself to relax as her exploring
hand drifted between my thighs. Her knuckles brushed against my clit and the lips of my pussy pulsed in quivering anticipation. "I love to eat pussy, Sara," she told me. "Me too," I admitted. "Mmm," she hummed softly. "That's good to know." Brenda wasted no climbing into my lap and sliding her bare thighs
down the length of my own until the sweet curve of her beautiful ass rested just above my pussy. I could feel the lips and hair of her neatly trimmed cunt tickle below my belly button as she moved forward to rub her tits against mine. Hands exploring, she cupped both of my breasts and gave them a firm squeeze beneath the water. "Nice, perky titties," she laughed. "I love real tits. The fake ones are such a disappointment."
I smoothed my wet hands along her spine and rested them on her shoulders as I drew her in to taste her tender, waiting mouth. Brenda's anxious tongue swept in to caress mine, dancing deliciously inside my lips in what I could only hope was the pretense to a pussy-eating I'd never forget. I curled my tongue against hers, lashing back and forth in answer to her sweet promise. She tasted like wine and cherry, most likely from the dessert we'd enjoyed before leaving the restaurant.
I could feel the muscles in my stomach tighten in anticipation, a tingling desire rising like fire in slow waves that undulated from my pussy up through my belly and all she was doing was kissing me. The soft crush of her breasts against mine hardened my nipples, and when she drew back to look into my eyes I saw how hard her nipples were too, popping out of her chest like two tiny tan pebbles just begging to be suckled.
I lowered my face and lifted one of them into my mouth, circling my tongue around the soft bumps before drawing it between my teeth and tenderly biting down before I began to suck. A long, appreciative moan escaped her and she arched forward to accommodate my anxious, hungry mouth. I squeezed and sucked, pinching the nipple of her other breast between my fingertips and rolling it back and forth.
As I drew my head back to look into her face, her smile only further enticed me. I wanted to taste all of her, to dip my tongue between her folds and lap until she gushed sweet cream. It was like she read my mind when she climbed off of me and positioned herself on the edge of the hot tub. Reaching out her hand, she drew me over and for a moment I just stood in front of her, her firm hands squeezing my shoulders. The slightly parted lips of her cleanshaven pussy invited me in and I
went down. She must have known where I would wind up kneeling in the hot tub, as if she planned way for both of us to get off while we played because as I lowered to my knees I felt the soft, fluttering kiss of the jet rippling through the lips of my cunt in heated bursts of bliss. Brenda's hand rested atop my head, guiding me downward until I was nose deep in her muff. I swept my tongue through her
folds and plunged my fingers into her depths, gliding them in and out of her hole while I feasted on her like I was at an all-you-can-eat buffet. She had a sweet, tangy taste that I couldn't get enough of, and the more I licked the more slippery she got. Her hand tangled into my hair, squeezing at times so tight that I could feel strands of it straining against her grip until I thought they would snap free. All the while that attentive jet
puffed and fluttered against my clit and if I rocked my hips up just a bit the water gushed hard into my pussy. It felt so good that I moaned into her soft lips and she jerked her hips forward to smother me with her cunt as she started to whimper. "My god, girl, you're good," she whispered, loosening her grip on my hair to smooth her hand along the curve of my neck. "Eat that pussy," she pleaded. "Lick me until I cum."
I sucked hard on her clitoris, rolling the tip of my tongue across that swollen nub and taking pleasure in the sound of her appreciative moans. They were increasing in pitch, growing louder by the second, and I was at the mercy of that damn jet, which I wanted desperately to push closer to so we could cum together. Unfortunately for me, Brenda let loose a long, shuddering cry as she pushed my face even deeper into
her slit. Her sweet cream gushed down my chin as it flooded from her gash with every spasm of pleasure that ripped through her. I dropped down lower to lap it up, diving my tongue deep inside her hole to make sure I licked up every last drop she had to offer. I didn't stop until the waves ebbed off and her wailing cries died down. When I lifted my face away, she drew me up to taste herself in my mouth. I'd been so close to cumming
myself thanks to the jet, the disappointment I felt was almost enough to make me cry, but as Brenda pulled away to look me in the eye, I knew she wouldn't let me go unsatisfied. Her hand swept down my shoulder, stopping only to squeeze my hand in hers before she gripped my cunt and jammed those fingers deep inside my wet and aching hole. She pushed in deep, her thumb fluttering across my clit for stimulation and her mouth locked over mine in a kiss so strong
it nearly knocked me over. Brenda backed me up and with a nudge and urged me to take a seat opposite of where she'd sat on the rim of the hot tub. I tumbled backward and braced myself with my palms as Brenda knelt down on her knees in the water between my thighs. I was already dripping wet and anxious for the feel of her tongue on my clit, so when she clamped down fast I let out a slow moan that surely echoed through
the house and signaled Sam and Alex to the games we'd started without them. She wrapped her arms around my thighs and went to pussy town, sucking and licking, sliding her tongue down the length of my lips and then diving in and out of my hole before driving back up to flutter across the pulsing button of my clit. I knew it wouldn't be long before I released the tension building up inside me. I wriggled
closer, circling my hips to fuck her mouth they way I would have fucked her gash. I was going to explode; I could feel it. My rutting hips bumping faster against her mouth, and then Alex and Sam walked in, stopping to appreciatively whistle at the show. Fortunately for me, Brenda didn't stop. She increased the speed of her pumping fingers and kept dancing her warm, anxious tongue in circles around my labia before riding back
up to flutter across my clit. I arched my back into her, every muscle in my body tensing against the build up, and then I began to shudder sweet release. I couldn't contain my cries as orgasm after orgasm blasted through me. Brenda just kept eating. She didn't stop until the last delightful spasm waned and she swept her tongue from the bottom up one last time for good measure, sucking my nub off hard before she drew away with a wet pop.
"I got her all wet and ready for you, baby," she told her husband, licking her sticky lips as she rose from where she knelt in front of me. "Now she needs a big fat cock, so get to it." "Yes, dear," Alex chuckled, sauntering toward the hot tub. I glanced over my shoulder to take a good look at him and was delighted to see that the reality that was Professor Barton in the buff far surpassed my in-class daydreams.
He was a tall man, and the rest of his body was proportionate to his height. The meat dangling below his groin was long, even though he was still relatively soft, and I could only imagine how much it was going to grow when he was ready and rearing to go. Juliet was going to shit a brick when she found out what I was up to. And Sam… I found myself looking toward him one last time for approval. If I even sensed for a
second that he was uncomfortable with the situation, I'd back down and deal with my failing grade. But Sam didn't seem the least bit out of sorts, not even standing there with his fat cock dangling between his thighs as if waiting for the right cue before it leapt to life. "Take good care of my man," I said to Brenda, reaching out to grip her hand before she climbed out of the hot tub. "Don’t you worry baby girl," she
winked and splashed onto the deck, sauntering naked and dripping toward Sam. "I'll make Sammy good and happy." Alex stepped down into the hot tub, bracing himself on the edge as he sat and scooted in beside me. "Brenda is an amazing seductress." "Yes, she is," I agreed, allowing him to duck his arm behind my shoulders and draw me closer. "The two of you have quite the little racket running here. How many
girls do you do this to each semester." "One, sometimes two, though this semester it's been all about you," he said. "I think you're stunning, Sara. The way you carry yourself. You exude confidence." The laugh that stuck at the back of my throat was anything but confident, that was for sure. "I haven't felt very confident in your class this semester, Professor."
"Look at how you stormed into my office this afternoon, stood up to me… If that's not confidence, I don't know what else to call it." "Well, it didn't seem to get me anywhere at the time." "No." He shrugged even closer to me and the woodsy pungency of his cologne invaded my senses. "But look at where you are now," he said. "What do you say we get started on earning you that A you so rightly deserve?"
Even though he was cleanshaven, the sandpaper scrape of his cheek against mine sent chills rippling through me as he descended to brush his lips against my cheek. His lips swept upward, nuzzling my earlobe before his tongue darted out to tease and entice me. "I've fantasized about this moment for weeks," he whispered, nipping the sensitive skin of my neck to make me squirm. "Thought
about stuffing that tight little cunt of yours with my cock." My hand rested on his thigh, traveling slowly downward into his lap. Fingers circled around his shaft, I stroked from the balls up in slow, deliberate jerks that made him close his eyes and lay his head back on the hot tub behind us with an appreciative sigh. "That feels nice," he told me, his tongue tracing across his thick lower lip.
He had an incredibly kissable mouth, despite how often I'd seen it scowling with mock contempt and scorn while he returned our abominable tests on Monday mornings. I leaned across his shoulder and closed my lips over his and he responded with slow interest. He opened his kiss to accept my curious tongue, swept his own out to meet me halfway before his arm tightened across my back to draw me closer.
His kiss was delectable, passionate and inspired; the kind of exchange I would call to mind for years to come as I counted off the most amazing kisses of my life. Amidst that act I forgot how much I loathed him and how he'd made my skin crawl just moments before. I could only hope he made love with that same intensity, melting away all my inhibitions and claiming me completely. From the corner of my curious
eye I caught Sam's gaze. He lounged casually in the chair across the room, watching me work my way to a well-deserved A+ while Brenda knelt between his thighs and rolled her expert tongue in circles up the length of his thick cock before pushing his thick head into her mouth and sucking him in slow and hungry. Watching her pleasure my man gave me chills of delight, and upon seeing me smile at him, Sam allowed himself to relax and enjoy everything Brenda had to offer him.
Even though I'd told myself it was different, really it was not unlike double-teaming with Juliet, or even indulging in those delicious threesomes with Sam and my roommate. We weren't touching, but we were watching one another, getting off on the notion of each other's pleasure from across the room. As if Professor Barton felt my distraction, he tilted my attention back to his kiss, deepening the probe of his strong tongue while maneuvering my leg up over his
and hiking me up into his lap. I felt the head of his dick slip anxiously through the lips of my cunt, seeking out the tight, wet hole dripping with need to be filled. He wasted no time breaking inside, driving himself slowly upward until my body ached with the pressure of that one plunging stroke and his fat head pounded against my cervix. I cried out a long moan and he drew my mouth back down to his, stifling the sound with his deep kisses.
"I knew you'd be tight," he whispered against my lips. "I never imagined you'd be so big," I said, feeling like Little Red Riding Hood. I half expected him to say All the better to fuck you with my dear, but he didn't. That made him laugh a throaty chuckle before he drew himself back and prepared to punch through me again. I lifted myself up, riding back down to slap my thighs into his in a maneuver that
slapped his balls against my ass. I buried a soft moan in his shoulder. That had always turned me on, and as if my ultimate pleasure was now his only goal he gripped the cheeks of my ass and spread them wide open to accommodate every upward smack of his sack. I lifted my head over shoulder to watch Sam again. risen from the chair and Brenda over the arm and smoothing his hand in circles
his He'd bent was over
the soft curve of her delicious ass. His stiff cock rose toward her, anxious to bury itself inside her dripping gash and when he caught my stare he deliberately drove himself into her. Brenda cried out with glee and rammed her hips back to take him all the way inside her. "She's a screamer," Professor Barton informed me. "But I want you to ignore her," he instructed. "Focus yourself on me, the stroke of my cock inside you."
My gaze met his and held it as he glided through my walls. "How do I feel inside you?" I bit down hard on my lower lip as I drew in a deep breath that swelled my chest against his. "You feel good, Professor Barton." The way I formally addressed him seemed to intensify his need to get off and he bucked up again, increasing the speed of his thrust until it became constant. My
muscles clenched around him, squeezing tight each time he ploughed through me and only easing their grip long enough for him to pull out before he hammered back in again. I lifted myself away, almost floated back down to meet his thrusts like a feather in a dream of clouds. It was the water in the hot tub holding me back, I realized, and the steaming heat rushing up around us only seemed to intensify that dreamy notion.
"Oh Professor," I sighed softly, bouncing my ass down atop his thighs. "I never imagined this," I admitted. "I did," he growled against my ear, the sandpaper roughness of his skin scraping my neck before the soft, wet delight of his tongue swept across the skin to soothe it. "Though in my fantasy I was bending you over my desk and giving it to you from behind," he said. "Like a naughty little school
girl." I tightened my thighs around his hips, deliberately slowing him down to make it last longer. I was fully focused on him, completely oblivious to the sound of Sam and Brenda behind us while the big bad wolf huffed and puffed and pounded away at my aching twat. Even when the two of them made their way across the room and slid into the hot tub behind us, I didn't notice until I felt Sam's hand on my
back and heard Brenda whisper in my ear. "Sam agrees that it's time to give you what you really need," she drew back and met my gaze, her smoky eyes shining playfully. Sam's snug warmth pressed against my back, his cheek brushing mine just before I felt his eager cock rise up to nudge my ass. Later on I would reflect on how easily we all fit together, with Professor Barton anxiously spreading my
cheeks so Sam could push himself inside. Brenda spit into her hand and rolled her sticky palm across the throbbing head of my lover's cock, then pushed him down against my quivering asshole. No matter how many times you've been fucked in the ass, you're never prepared. I felt my muscles clench tight against his entry, but that tightness only seemed to ignite his eagerness to get inside. A strangled cry of pain-
filled excitement erupted from my chest, spurring Professor Barton to rise up and fill me completely. Sam's thrusts started slow and then began to pick up momentum once he was comfortably buried inside me. Brenda covered my mouth with hers, sweetly kissing me while Sam and her husband battered away at me like a fortress in desperate need of breaking. Her kneading hands squeezed my tits, fingers pinching
at my nipples and mouth swallowing every cry that escaped my lips. She moved between Sam and me, kissing us both while her husband and my lover battled away like two swords inside me. Every double thrust brought me closer and closer to screaming release, the heads of both cocks pounding into my g-spot repeatedly. I tried to lose myself in Brenda's kisses, but when I came it was completely beyond my control. Hot
waves of sweet, intense orgasm tore through my body like a tidal wave across an unsuspecting beach, wreaking havoc on my senses that made my entire frame shudder again and again. I must have been screaming, but they just kept hammering away like two woodpeckers intent on whittling a redwood into dust. Brenda devoured my mouth, and though I gripped tight to the edge of the hot tub with one hand, my other
found her hip and squeezed gently before I brought my fingers around and began sliding them through the frothy lips of her dripping slit. I spanned them three-wide and pushed them into her gash, fluttering my thumb across her clit. She writhed and danced at my command, and knowing that all four of us were getting off only seemed to bring me back to the brink of overwhelming release. The water splashed and gurgled
around us, flecking up to mingle with the sweat of our hard work and it tickled as it dripped down my skin. I had gone this far with Juliet before, but knowing that it was a first for Sam and me made it all the more exciting. It must have been overwhelming for him too because I felt his thrusts become stiff and sporadic and then he exploded in my ass like a hot geyser. He pumped and slammed, gripping my arms so tight my skin felt bruised in his hands, and then he shuddered
to a halt behind me. He slid out, offering a moment's relief that Professor Barton wasn't about to allow me to enjoy. The professor picked up the past. Jerking his hips up so hard and fast I could feel his bones slamming against mine. I held his intense gaze while he fucked me, and though I was still jamming my fingers in and out of Brenda's cunt, all I thought about while I did it was her husband's cock inside me.
Brenda's hand slid down my arm, slowing my thrusts into her until she untucked my fingers from her pussy and drew them up to lick them clean. She then laid my hand on Alex's shoulder and backed away, reaching for Sam's hand and drawing him out of the hot tub with her. I saw them wrap towels around their bodies and patter out of the room. I didn't know where they went, but Professor Barton and I were
soon alone in the bathhouse, our cries of passion echoing together while he continued to punch up deep inside me. He seemed insatiable, his hungry mouth devouring mine as he rolled me into the water on my back and pushed off the wall behind him with every thrust. I arched into him, taking him again and again, but even after another slow-shuddering orgasm pulsed like electric delight through my body, he just kept fucking and fucking.
I was definitely going to earn that A+ I so rightly deserved; that was for sure. I didn't know how much more I could take. I was starting to feel raw inside, the friction of his cock burning through me like fire. I clenched and squeezed in an effort to get him off, and thank god it worked because he felt like he could go all night. I watched his face as he rose toward his peak, and then he pulled out of me, rising above me
and jerking himself until long, sporadic ropes of hot white cum shot from the end of his cock to paint my chest and face. I opened my mouth to accept his offering, swallowing every drop he managed to shoot between my lips and then wiping my face to suck his cum from fingers. He took great pleasure in watching me eat what he'd given me, and as he backed slowly away to drop onto the seat behind him in the hot tub, he let
out a long, satisfied sigh. "That was worth every minute," he said. "Yes, it was," I agreed, pushing through the water to kneel before him in the water. "Now, about my grade…" A soft laugh rippled the muscles in his chest and he shook his head. "You've definitely earned that A+," he said.
"Good," I nodded. "Am I going to have to do this every time we have a test?" Professor Barton reached out and rested a soft hand against my cheek. I burrowed into his touch, closing my eyes. "You bet your sweet ass you are." I grinned and lifted my gaze to meet with his. "All right," I agreed, "but next time you're going to bend me over your desk and take me from behind."
He drew me into his waiting kiss, pushing in firm against my lips before muttering, "You may just be my most dedicated student yet." "I take my grades very seriously, Professor Barton." "That's my good girl." When Professor Barton and I emerged from the bathhouse, we found Sam and Brenda in the dining room chatting amicably over slices
of cheesecake. Wrapped in a towel, I sauntered over to Sam and took a seat on his knee. I grabbed a fork from the table and dug into the slice of cake on his plate. "Do you want a cup of coffee, Sara?" I looked across the table at Brenda and nodded. "That would be nice." She left us alone for a moment, her husband following her into the
kitchen. Sam's arms squeezed me tight against him and he kissed my bare shoulder. "He says I'll get my A," I told him. "Good," he rested against my skin.
his
face
"I'll have to fuck him again." "If you're okay with that, so am I." I nodded. "Maybe we can get
together with him and Brenda again sometime," I added. "You know, so you can play too." "Sounds good to me." I turned in his lap and lifted his chin so I could look into his eyes. "You're sure none of this bothers you?" I asked. "It doesn't make you jealous?" "I know you're mine, Sara," he said. "I know that no matter who you have sex with, who you
experiment with, at the end of the day it'll be me you crawl into bed and curl up with." My mouth curved slowly in response, and I leaned in to tenderly answer that observation with a kiss. "I love you, Sam." "I love you too, baby girl," he whispered. Our private moment was interrupted as Brenda sashayed back into the room with coffee
service and more cheesecake. "It was so nice of you to come back and have dessert with us," she said. Alex appeared in the door behind her, his intense eyes holding my gaze for a moment before that tightlipped, cocky grin gripped his mouth. "Next time we'll barbecue," he said. "Just the four of us." Sam nudged me softly from behind, squeezing me in his arms. "We love to barbecue."
I wasn't sure what had happened that night… Well, I guess that wasn't entirely true. I knew exactly what had happened. Sam and I had taken another step forward in our relationship, strengthening what already felt like and unbreakable bond. What I didn't actually know was what it meant, where it would carry us, but as Professor Barton stepped in beside his wife and dropped an adoring kiss against her cheek, I felt like the direction we were headed in was definitely a
positive one. After all, if a hard ass prick like Professor Barton could exist happily in an open marriage, maybe Sam could too… But that was a long way off.
BONUS THE MILE HIGH CLUB
I must have felt like a little kid to boyfriend Sam the day we left for Cancun, bouncing all over the airport like a little bomb about to go off. So much bizarre stuff had happened over the last few weeks that I was in desperate need of a getaway, and Sam was too. My love affair with Sam has been amazing from the start. A little rocky due to circumstances, but since day one it's just felt right, you
know? Even in the beginning when the impact of what we were doing started to sink in, there was guilt, of course. After all, he was my best friend's dad and at the time we got together I was just a high school graduating senior. A lot had changed since I'd gone to college. Sam and I were committed to each other, even if his daughter Becky was still refusing to speak to either one of us. We'd been talking about our future and the all
the possibilities that lie before us, and since we'd met Professor Alexander Barton and his gorgeous wife Brenda, swinging with other couples had joined the long list of delights that really spiced up our love life. We already knew we liked to indulge in threesomes, especially if it involved hot girl on girl action, but Alex and Brenda introduced us to a whole new lifestyle, and since we'd started swapping with them we'd discovered whole new levels of intimacy that neither Sam nor I
ever imagined possible. We were closer than ever, ready to take on the world together, but first I needed to get over my fear of flying. "I don't understand why we couldn't just drive to Mexico." "Do you want to get there before Spring Break is over?" "Maybe," I said, drawing my lower lip between my teeth and
gnawing on the skin out of nervous habit. "Sara, it would take us almost four days to get there by car," he reminded me for the sixth time. "We could just go to Delaware," I tried. "You're getting on that plane." Sam narrowed his eyebrows and stared sternly down the length of his nose at me before reaching out to clamp his hand down on my
fidgeting leg. "Jesus, Sara. How many cups of coffee have you had?" "Four," I shrugged, glancing toward the boarding gate. "I'm cutting you off." He reached over and snatched the Starbucks Venti Mocha Caramel from my hand and leaned to toss it into the garbage before nudging back into me. "I've flown thousands of times over the years, and I'm still here. You're gonna be just fine, darlin'. I promise. I'll take good care of you."
"What if we crash, Sam?" "We are not gonna crash, Sara." I couldn't tell if the annoyed tone in his voice was due to the earlymorning hour, or he was on his last nerve with me, but I leaned into him and rested my head on his shoulder to placate him as best I could. I needed him to be gentle with me, not grumpy. I'd never been on a plane before, which in its own right had really
limited my life experience, or so Sam said. Personally, I would have been perfectly happy driving everywhere we needed to go, and had a fully formulated plan to drive through Russia and right into London when I was finally ready to travel abroad. "More people die in car accidents than plane crashes, babe. It's a little known fact." "No, Sam, that's a myth."
The distorted voice over the intercom system made an announcement I barely understood about boarding Flight 331, and he reached over and took my hand. "That's us," he said. "You got your passport?" he asked for the thousandth time in the last four days. "Yes, I have my passport." He tugged me up out of the seat and squeezed my hand. "Let's go to
Mexico." I struggled with the notion of putting one foot in front of the other, but Sam's blue-grey eyes softened a little, and he slipped in beside me to lower his arm across my shoulders. He shuffled me forward, and I can assure you that I didn't take a normal breath for the next forty-five minutes. By the time we were seated, I seriously thought I was going to hyperventilate and pass out.
"I should have gotten you a valium," Sam sighed, leaning back in the seat near the window and glancing out over the runway. "Don't be mad at me," I huffed and lifted my hand up to my chest to steady my thrombing heartbeat. It didn't help much, but it mentally made me feel better. "I'm not mad at you." He turned his gaze back to me, his expression calm as he reached out and closed his fingers around my clenched
hand. "I'll tell you what," he said softly. "There's a really special club for flyers that I'm positive you'll want to be a part of, but the only way you can join is if you find a way to fight your fear." I tilted my head at him almost scornfully. "The Mile High Club, Sam? Really?" "Don't scoff at it," he chuckled and squeezed my fingers gently inside his. "There's something exciting about getting off in the
clouds." "I'll take your word for it." I arched my brow in disbelief. "You'll find out for yourself," he said. "We'll see about that," I muttered, double-checking my lap belt again and drawing in another deep breath when the flight attendants assumed their positions in the aisles to offer safety instructions. That didn't help me
much, and by the time the plane started heading down the runway for take-off, I thought I was going to have a heart attack. It was about forty-five minutes into the flight before I stopped gripping the edge of the armrest and gave in to Sam's urging to lean over and have a look at the world down below. I was pretty sure seeing all those tiny blocks of farmland and bizarre blue, kidney bean-shaped swimming pools was
only going to send me over the edge into oblivion, but as Sam gently stroked my shoulder and pointed out landmarks below, I actually started to relax little by little. "See," he nuzzled his nose against my cheek before resting his forehead on my temple. "This isn't so bad, is it?" "We haven't crashed yet," I nodded slowly. "And we're not going to," he
promised. "I'm not going to let anything bad happen to you, Sara. Not ever." That promise made me feel safe. I always felt safe with Sam, and even though I knew that realistically, Sam couldn't save me if the plane was gonna crash, I felt good knowing he'd try like hell. "I love you," I whispered, brushing my lips against his cheek. "I love you too, babe."
Now I'd had to pee since before we boarded the plane, but being the huge, paranoid mess that I was, I'd told myself once we boarded that I'd hold it until we got to Mexico if I had to. Yeah, that plan wasn't gonna work, and even though my legs wobbled underneath me as I made my way down the aisle, I finally convinced myself that going to the bathroom wasn't going to kill me, and if it did, at least I'd die with an empty bladder.
What I didn't realize that I would also die of claustrophobia long before the plane went down, as I squeezed myself into that tiny little space they called a toilet. I almost laughed myself stupid when I thought about Sam's Mile High Club, wondering how the hell two people actually managed to fit into the bathroom to have sex in the first place. I guessed the whole scenario was a myth, but then I opened the door after I finished and found Sam grinning on the other
side. "Are you ready to join one of the sexiest clubs to ever be created?" He wagged his eyebrows and I rolled my eyes. "You've got to be kidding me," I snorted. "There is no way two people could fit in this thing, much less get off." A cocky grin gripped the corner of his mouth and he pushed me back through the door. "You'd be
surprised." "Sam," I protested. "We are not both gonna fit in here, come on." I soon realized just how wrong I was as Sam wedged me up against what the airline qualified as a sink and made a tight twist around to lock the door behind him. That arrogant smile still danced over his lips as he spun back around to face me, taking a single step forward to slide his arms down my back. He gripped my thighs and hiked me
upward, planting me on the sink and rushing in to crush his lips against mine. His kiss was forceful, and I knew that protesting against this little escapade of his wasn't going to get me anywhere, so I relaxed against him, opening my mouth to accept the teasing sweep of his tongue. Working hands struggled to hike my skirt up around my hips and I reached down to unbuckle his belt. He stayed my hand before I
unhitched the buckle, unzipped himself and drew his hardening dick through the opening in the front of his pants. I wrapped my fingers around his girth, tugging gently and gasping with a sly smile as he came alive in my hand. While I stroked him, he slid his fingers in the side of my panties, tickling them through my slit until I grew wet and slippery with want. Sam kissed me again, his hand
tightening over mine as I stroked before he tugged my panties to the side and guided the thick, beautiful head of his cock into my, slick anxious cunt. He shoved hard into me, bucking his hips forward and pinning me against the mirror at my back. I let out an excited gasp and circled my hands around his hips, pulling him in again and again while stifling my cries into his shoulder. "It feels good, doesn't it?" He
whispered against my ear, tongue darting out to tease and my neck before his soft, suckling lips strayed kisses across the sensitive skin there. "Yes," I admitted, forgetting for a moment that we were thousands and thousands of miles above the earth. I clenched the muscles of my pussy around him as he thrust in deep. "It feels naughty," "Breaking the rules."
he
said.
The counter pinched and bruised my ass and the backs of my legs, but Sam was right. It did feel good being bad. It roused that familiar ache in my stomach I often felt whenever I thought about being naughty with him, an ache that was only ever sated when he was inside me. As if he felt my need rising, Sam picked up the pace, slapping in and out of me so fast I could barely catch my breath. He was the first and only guy
who'd ever been able to make me cum quick with a cock inside me, and as the tension built up, every thrust was a promise that orgasm was just around the bend. "You're so wet," he marveled, his lips mashing against mine again in a kiss so strong it made the earth feel like it was quaking, but that quaking didn't stop and as soon as I realized it had nothing to do with Sam's cock, panic gripped me once again. "It's just a little turbulence,"
he soothed me, slowing his strokes. The pilot's voice came over the speaker, confirming Sam's statement and instructing everyone to secure their seatbelts until further notice. "We have to go back to our seats." I wriggled against him, suddenly intent on getting out of that bathroom and back to safety. "No, Sara," he shook his head. "We have to finish this."
"But the pilot said…" Sam devoured my words before I could finish speaking them, shoving me back against the mirror again and pistoning hard in and out to not only calm me, but remind him who was in charge. I won't lie. I was terrified as the body of the plane trembled and quaked around us. Panic threatened to overpower the amazing feeling of Sam's big dick inside me, but he wouldn't back off, wouldn't let me
go until we both exploded in glorious, euphoric release. I'd never had an orgasm while I was scared before. It wasn't something I'd ever put at the top of my to-do list, but as anxiety mingled with pleasure, the intense hammer of my little heart drew me closer and closer to what promised to be one of the most amazing orgasms I'd ever had. "You're gonna cum for me," Sam's gruff command heightened
the excitement I felt, and I writhed under that tight little table to get closer and closer. "Come on, little girl, cum for Daddy. Cum for me." My toes stretched and curled in my sandals, fingers clenching the back of Sam's shirt so tight it was probably going to have fingernail tears in it by the time he was done fucking me. I tightened my thighs around him, answering every thrust with a strangled cry I tried to swallow so it wouldn't echo through
the plane like a bad announcement. "Sam," I whispered. "Oh fuck, Sam." "Cum," he said. Sam had worked really hard throughout the course of his adult life to make sure he didn't cum until his lover was satisfied, which made me an incredibly lucky girl indeed. Even as I began to shake and gasp against the undulating waves of hot bliss rippling through
my body, Sam slammed and pounded away at me. As the last tingle of satisfaction began to ebb, his whole body stiffened in my arms and he let himself go, grunting softly as he pumped me full of hot, sticky cum. Still buried inside me, he lifted his hand to both sides of my face and drew me into his soft, waiting kiss. He nibbled at my lips, halfsmiling when he drew back to look into my eyes.
"That wasn't so bad now, was it?" "Un-uh," I shook my head, grinning as I lifted my mouth to his again. He hugged me close, squeezing me tight in his arms before taking a step back and pulling out. "Welcome to the Mile High Club, Sara." I giggled and hopped down from the sink to clean myself up.
I half-expected everyone to stare with derision when we finally made our way back down the aisle to resume our seats, but no one even looked at us. I told myself it was because they were jealous, the secret thought of their envy making me feel naughtier about the whole thing. "Why don't you sit by the window," Sam said, ushering me into our row. I glanced back over my shoulder apprehensively, but he
nudged me softly. "Go on. It's a beautiful view." I slid into his seat and relaxed against the cushioned back of the chair. Drawing in a deep breath, I leaned over to look out the window. Wisps of cloud passed over the world below, but the tightness in my chest felt lighter as Sam settled in beside me and rested his head on my shoulder. "Flying's not so bad, huh?"
I grinned and laid my head against his. "Nothing is bad when I'm with you." He reached for my hand, tangling our fingers together and gently squeezing. I had a feeling our first vacation together was going to be one for the books. I couldn't wait to slip into my bikini and flop down on the hot sands of the beach with the love of my life. We were bound to get into all kinds of naughty trouble together. After all, it was
Spring Break, but you know what they say… What happens in Mexico…
SWINGERS GANG BANG THE BRIDE
Sam Charles leaned down the staircase to make sure all the lights downstairs were turned off and then he glanced into the bathroom at the end of the hallway. She was brushing her teeth, something so simple and yet so sexy his boxer shorts felt a little tighter than they had a second earlier. She bent over the sink, and spit foaming white into the basin. Then she rinsed her mouth clean before leaning into the mirror to inspect her teeth. Her
adorable, tight young ass peeked out at him from under the short hem of her nighty, the thong she wore exposing just enough flesh that his shorts grew even tighter. He smiled. In two days that amazing ass and the long legs attached to it would belong to him. Not that he hadn't had her ass and her tight little pussy at least a thousand times in the last four and a half years, but in less than fortyeight hours they were making it
official. Twenty-two-year-old Sara would become Sam's second wife, and he didn't have an ounce of regret over the decision. There were definitely people who thought he should have at least been ashamed of himself. At forty-two, Sam had known Sara most of her life. Her close friendship with his own daughter had allowed him to watch her grow from an awkward and uncertain pre-teen into an amazingly confident, beautiful young woman who'd taught him
more than he'd ever imagined possible before she came along. He hadn't even really noticed her until just after she turned eighteen, their first coming together inspired by an awkward situation that could have gone either way. Sara had stopped by the house to work on a school project with his daughter Becky and caught Sam home alone jacking off in the living room. Later she would tell him that her urge to slide her hand inside her skirt to
finger her clit had been uncontrollable, that watching his fast stroking hand glide up and down the shining shaft of his cock had made her hotter than she'd ever been. Once they started fucking, there was no turning back and as one thing led to another, Sam quickly found himself completely enamored with more than just her pussy. She hopped back onto her heels and spun around in the bathroom
door to face him. She grinned and swept the cute blonde ponytails over her shoulders and started toward him. "What are you doing lurking there at the end of the hallway, Mister?" "Just watching my beautiful wife-to-be do mundane things with grace and style most women couldn't even begin to dream of possessing." "You were watching me pee?" she slinked her arms around his
neck and raised herself up on the tips of her toes to nuzzle her lips against his. Sam instinctively opened his mouth to kiss her, tongue sweeping between her lips to dance with hers. The mint of her breath cooled him but the close proximity of her perfect body warmed him and made his boxers feel like they were cutting off his circulation. His arms clasped at the small of her back and he swept her closer so she could
feel the urgency of his need for her. "Sam," she gasped and giggled, leaning back to meet his eyes. "You really were watching me pee, you pervert!" She playfully smacked at his chest and then moved in to rest her cheek against his, lips brushing his clean-shaven cheek. "What can I say?" he growled softly into her ear and lifted her off the floor to swing her toward the bedroom. "Everything you do turns me on."
"Yeah?" she cooed, tilting her head and looking up at him for confirmation as he lowered her onto the bed. "Everything?" "Everything," he confirmed, parting her thighs and kneeling onto the bed between them. "How about this?" Sara reached her hand out to stroke the bulging erection inside his boxer shorts, her long fingers curling around the shaft through the fabric and gently
flowing upward until her fingertips brushed his swollen, sensitive head. She squeezed it between her thumb and forefinger, and Sam sucked his breath in through tightly clenched teeth. "Yeah," he nodded and exhaled. "That definitely turns me on." Encircling his waist with her legs, she drew him down on top of her and once he was there she maneuvered him onto his back to climb into place atop his hips. She
wiggled and writhed over his aching hard on, her eyes never shifting away from his face as if all she needed to satisfy herself was his reaction. Even with both of them still clothed he could feel the moist heat radiating from her twat; it beckoned and invited him as if whispering, "Cum inside, Sam. Cum inside me." He reached down between her thighs and peeled the crotch of her underwear to the side. Her slippery
wet folds welcomed him, but before he could even glide his fingers down in to fondler her slick hole she'd pulled his cock out of his boxers. She lifted her ass high in the air to meet the full height of his erection and then pushed his throbbing head into her quivering cunt. Her muscles contracted around him, squeezing and pulling him deep inside her and he thrust himself upward to accommodate
her hunger. He loved to let her think she was in control, even if only for a little while. She bounced and slapped her ass against his thighs and every downward grind send his balls flapping upward to smack against her bare skin. Sam didn't think about much of consequence when he was fucking Sara. He'd learned to control his endurance long ago and rarely required baseball statistics to keep his mind occupied, but sometimes
when he realized she was his, that he would be tapping her hot little ass and making her moan for the rest of his days, it became almost impossible to hold back. And those thoughts always led to the voyeuristic games they'd come to play, him watching another girl between Sara's thighs, lapping at her sweet pussy and making her mewl and squirm like a cat on a hot tin roof… Sara hopping up and down on another man's cock, all the
while staring deep into Sam's eyes so he knew that she was doing it for him, fucking that other man to make him happy. Strange as that might have seemed it did make him happy. Sam had told her years before that he would do anything to make her cum, and in the months following that confession she'd put his promise to the test. Sara liked to eat pussy; it made her dripping wet, and Sam was
surprised at how horny it made him to watch her get another woman off while he fucked her from behind. Later he discovered he enjoyed watching other men pound away at her almost as much as he liked fucking her himself. Listening to her soft coos and gasping moans while he stroked his own cock and watched her get off turned him on more than he'd ever imagined it could. Before Sara, he'd always considered himself a jealous man, but there was something
empowering about letting another man fuck the woman he got to take home. Sam gripped her hips in midcircle and held her tight in place as he sat up to hold her against him. He loved the feeling of her arms around his neck, resting on his shoulders as she pressed her forehead into his cheek and ground down slow and deliberate just to hear him groan in her ear. "You feel so good inside me," she
whispered. Still buried balls deep inside her, Sam held her tight against him and rolled her onto her back. He drew himself out until the head of his cock lingered at her hole and then he pounded in hard. She gasped, followed by a soft cry that Sam could listen to over and over again. The dim light beside the bed cast a golden glow upon her skin that made her look divine. He dove down to cover her body, to own and
possess it in ways only he knew how. She tightened her thighs around his waist and rolled her fingernails down his back, scraping into his flesh just enough to make him cringe and plough into her harder. "I love you," she whispered, her breath a hot pulse caressing his cheek to meet his ear. And that was the key right there. Those three simple words erased
the jealousy that might have otherwise destroyed him as he watched others enjoy her body. "I love you," he devoured her kiss. He did love her, and the fact that she loved him, shared those words and all the emotions that went with them with him alone… that made their lovemaking different than the carnal explorations they enjoyed with other lovers. Love made swinging easy because it was something they did to please each
other, the ultimate sacrifice so many others found impossible to make. But they could, and they would delve even deeper once they were married in just two days. Sara writhed, sliding in as close as too bodies could get and when she started to pant he knew that was his cue to pound hard until delicious waves of release shuddered through her. He pulled his hips back slowly at first, teasing her by bumping only the head of his
cock in and out of her pussy until she cried out, "Please, Sam! Please." He dropped down, pushing himself so far inside that she gasped in surprise. He punched in hard again and again, every stroke bringing him that much closer to the simultaneous release they'd come to rely on in moments when life's hectic schedule made them feel distant from one another. All the wedding plans and appointments over the last few
months had held them further apart than they'd ever been, but he could easily fall back in tune with her. All it took was one final push. Sara wrapped her legs around his ass and squeezed him tight and that was when Sam let go. Every muscle in his body tightened and then relaxed in shudders of bliss as he filled her with his seed. "Sam," she whispered, fingers tangled in the shaggy locks of his sandy hair. "Oh, Sam."
Allowing his body to fall in and crush hers beneath him, Sam snuck a secret grin. She loved him and she'd never said anyone else's name the way she always muttered his when she was completely sated. "I needed that," she whispered, fingers still stroking through his hair. "Mm," he kissed her neck, her cheek and then lifted his face to look down at her. "I always need that."
She smiled and all was right in Sam Charles' world.
***
Sara stood at the kitchen sink rinsing the lunch dishes and loading them into the washer while Juliet and Becky cleared the table. She watched the four men in the driveway toss the basketball back
and forth in a game of H-O-R-S-E that no one actually seemed to be playing. "No doubt Uncle Rory is dazzling everyone with his tales of conquest and debauchery. It's no wonder he's been married and divorced six times," Becky said, leaning into Sara's shoulder to follow her gaze out the window. "Did I ever tell you about that time he hit on me when I was like sixteen?" "Yes,"
Sara
nodded. "And I
wouldn't mention that in front of your dad. He's nervous enough having the three of them around this weekend. Something about nothing but trouble when the four of them get together." Becky's eyes arched upward and she shook her head. "Yes, Mommy Dearest." "Stop it!" Sara laughed, nudging into her friend, who was about to become her stepdaughter.
They'd come a long way from disbelief and denial in the last three years, and though Sara had actually fretted for awhile that Becky might never accept the fact that her best friend and her father were actually a couple, over time she'd come around and it was a huge relief. It turned out that Becky had a secret of her own she'd come to terms with while she was away at college. When Sara had introduced her to Juliet, her two closest friends hit it off faster than she'd ever imagined
and were leaving together in a week on a summer trip to backpack across Europe. Juliet rested her head between their shoulders and gazed out the window. "Is Uncle Rory the one with the pretty puppy eyes?" "No, that's Glen. Uncle Rory is the one who needs a haircut worse than my dad." "Ooh, he's pretty too," Juliet sighed. "You're all grown up now,
Beck. Maybe we should invite Uncle Rory with us on our trip." "No thank you!" Becky backed away from the window. "You know I've sworn off men completely. I'd rather have you all to myself." Sara grinned over her shoulder as Juliet circled her arms around Becky's neck and leaned in to taste her waiting kiss. She'd been to bed with Juliet a number of times over the years and for a fleeting moment she envied Becky's good fortune. Of
all the women Sara had experimented with in college, Juliet had been the most amazing of them all and while she highly doubted Becky would consent to a quick threesome to see her off into her marriage, Sara had been daydreaming about it for days. Becky had no idea the kind of lifestyle her best friend and her father had willingly endeavored into, and though Juliet had an idea that Sam and Sara had taken the
full leap into swinging, it probably wasn't news Becky would be interested in learning. Despite giving them her blessing, Becky was wildly protective of her daddy, and she'd probably lose her shit if she ever found out. Sara's gaze returned to the driveway. The simple game of H-OR-S-E the guys had been playing must have shifted, she realized as she watched Sam charge through Glen and Cash with the ball. Sweat
glistened on his bare chest and his loose, sandy curls were matted against his forehead and temples. Damn, she thought, her tongue tracing her lower lip. She wondered if there would be time for a quick shower together before the four of them headed off to Sam's bachelor party. She was sure his college pals had planned a wild night for him, but maybe if she could give him something hot to think about, the lap dances and pole-swirling exotic dancers would only serve to drive
him back home to rest between her thighs. Superstition be damned! She wanted Sam in her bed, wanted to make sure he knew that endeavoring into marriage with her would always be exciting and new. "We've got a surprise for you tonight," Juliet drew her away from the window. "Something that's sure to keep you occupied so you don't miss Sam too much tonight."
"Oh, I won't be missing Sam," Sara insisted. "He'll be home by midnight, just you wait and see." "Oh no he won't!" Becky boomed. "It's bad luck for the bride and groom to spend the night before their wedding together." Sara groaned and rolled her eyes. "That's just an old wives tale," she said, moving away from the window to sit down at the kitchen bar. "Old
wives,"
Juliet
nodded.
"Exactly. That's how they got to be old wives… by following the rules. You want to be an old wife one day too, so you're going to play by the rules. Your oversexed little coochie will have to suck it up and get through the night without him." "Hello!" Becky covered her ears with her hands. "My delicate ears!" Laughing, Juliet stroked her hand down the back of Sara's head. "Don't you worry, my pretty pet…" She stroked her hand down the
back of Sara's head. "Becky and Juliet are going to take really good care of you tonight. I promise." Sara raised her eyebrows in curiosity, but when Juliet and Becky shared coy grins, she knew they weren't going to let her in on their secret plot to make the last night of her single life one she wouldn't forget.
***
Sara slid into the shower behind him and slipped her arms around his slippery waist. Startled, Sam stepped backwards, bumping his ass against her stomach with a soft laugh. "Jesus!" he chuckled. "I didn't even hear you come in." "That was the point, silly." Hot beads of water splashed down over her hands and she rolled them over
his skin, swirling through the musky body wash he'd been lathering into his skin. She loved the way he smelled, especially after he'd just gotten out of the shower, but the steam filled the air with his scent and Sara pressed herself against him, breathing him in and exhaling a delighted sigh. "We've got a houseful of people wandering around," he reminded her. "You could have been anyone." "I could have been Juliet," she
said. "Exactly." Sam turned in her arms, allowing the full power of the showerhead to splash against her and wet her hair and breasts before he smoothed the damp locks of her blonde hair away from her face. "You like Juliet," she reminded. "I like Juliet when she's with you," he pointed out. "Not when I'm by myself."
"I could call her in here," she teased, sliding her hands down his back, fingers gently squeezing the soft meet of his ass. "We could give you something nice to think about before you leave for your little bachelor party with the boys." "Is somebody jealous?" He grinned, swiveling his hips in a little dance that swayed both their bodies beneath the shower head. "Worried I might indulge in a little lap dance?"
"Not jealous," she assured him, their wet mouths moving together in a slow kiss. Her hand moved around his hip, groping for the long, thick cock dangling between his thighs. He was only half hard, but a few quick strokes would get him exactly where she wanted him to be. "I just don't want you to forget what you're coming home to," she purred, squeezing the meat of his shaft and grinning against his mouth as he kissed her again.
"I don't think I'll be forgetting that anytime soon," he promised, his own fingers slipping down her wet belly and through the cleanshaven lips of her pussy to circle around her clit. "I've got the hottest little pussy waiting for me right here." "Yes, you do." She tugged up and down on his dick until it was hard as granite in her hand and then bracing herself on the shower wall, she lowered
herself onto the tiled floor in front of him and took him into her mouth. His clean, soft skin felt like melted butter on her tongue, flavored by the salt of his pre-cum as it slid across her tongue. She was good at sucking dick. Sam had told her hundreds of times how much he loved the feel of her soft sucking lips and circling tongue, and sometimes she could make him cum in a matter of minutes if she stroked him just
right. Swirling her tongue around the fat, swollen purple head of his cock, her gripping fingers slid up and down his length. Sam's fingers wove into the wet locks of her hair, gripping to push himself further into her mouth. She followed his guidance, opening her mouth wider so he could fuck her face. With her free hand she squeezed his balls, rolling them between her fingertips like a pair of Chinese Baoding balls while jerking him in and out of her lips with the other.
"Oh yeah, girl," Sam moaned. "Suck that cock." Gripping fingers tugged harder at her hair. "Suck my fucking cock, you dirty little girl." Sara's lips tightened with a smile and she pushed them down further, almost gagging herself deliberately with him. He liked it when she nearly choked, it made him feel like a god, and the constricting muscles of her throat nearly brought him to his knees. Faster, she whacked and groped
and bobbed her head up and down until his fingers were so tight in her hair she thought he'd tear it out by the handful before he finally exploded against her tonsils. "I'm gonna cum," he told her. "Keep sucking," he commanded. "Yeah, baby. Yeah, here it comes. Here it comes." He thrust his hips forward hard and Sara felt his hot cream erupt to coat the back of her throat. She gulped it down in eager swallows, slowing her jacking hand
until the last thick, sticky gush shot into her mouth. Sam slid his spent cock from her mouth, and the slackening tool fell with a soft slap against his thigh. Loosening his fingers from her hair, he lifted her chin and looked down into her eyes. "Maybe I'll just cancel this stupid party and stay home with you all night." He helped her to her feet and they twirled under the showerhead together again. They washed each
other, massaging and then rinsing before Sam kissed her and ducked out to towel off while Sara washed her hair. He was standing in front of the mirror when she finally stepped from the shower and wrapped the bath towel around her body. Turning to inspect her as she tucked it in around her breasts, Sam tugged her against him and brushed his mouth against hers. "You know, I won't go tonight if you don't really
want me to." "Sam," she shook her head. "I want you to go. You haven't seen your friends in a long time. Hell, you haven't seen Cash in over ten years. I want you to go and have a good time, okay?" "You sure?" He squinted down at her as he tilted his head. "The four of us used to get into a hell of a lot of trouble together." "I know," she shrugged. "You
told me. And if you get into trouble tonight, you get into trouble. Tomorrow's a new day." She rested her hands on his chest and gazed up into his soft, blue-grey eyes. "Tomorrow is our day." He liked the sound of that, and once again he kissed her, this time slow and deliberate; a gesture meant to show her that every day was theirs, and the only trouble he ever wanted to get into again was the trouble he got into with her. She
felt it; he didn't have to say it. She had nothing to worry about. "Don't let Juliet get you too drunk," he warned with a teasing grin. "She's probably got all sorts of plans to take advantage of you." "It's only taking advantage if I try to stop her," she winked, sliding out of his arms and turning toward the bathroom door. Sam shook his head and watched her long legs disappear into their
bedroom, and then he followed to get dressed and head out for the night with his friends.
***
Sam had been listening to his best friend Rory brag about all the ass he got most of the day. It had actually started three days before with text message ribbings about Sam giving up his freedom to fuck
whomever he wanted, and while Sam had thought about shutting Rory up with the hot, hard facts about swingers not having to give up anything at all, he thought it was better if he just let it go. As open as he was to watching Sara get her hot little pussy fucked, he wasn't sure he wanted Rory's cock anywhere near his wife-to-be. The scantily clad waitress slid across the table to dole out their third round of shots and Sam
allowed himself a glimpse at her tight cleavage. Catching his glance, the waitress grinned a teasing smile to ensure the rowdy table of guys left her a good tip, but she wasn't the only one who caught his glance. Rory ordered another round of shots before sending her on her way with a slap to her ass that made her howl and giggle, and all four men burst into appreciative chuckles. "This round is to Sam," Rory raised his shot glass, and Cash,
Glen and Sam followed suit. "May that hot little bitch in heat he's about to commit himself to always be enough to satisfy him." "Hear,hear!" Glasses clinked together and Sam felt the cold splash of spilled liquid on his fingertips as he drew the shot to his lips and tossed it back. "So you never did tell us," Cash started as he lowered his empty shot glass down to the table with a thunk. "How the fuck did you
manage to get such a hot young thang anyway, Sam? Did you pick her up at daycare, or what?" Sam felt his face flush hot, but he didn't react. "No," he shook his head. "She was a friend of Becky's. We started seeing each other just after she turned eighteen." "Eighteen," Glen whistled. "Color me fucking jealous! I think the last time I had eighteen-yearold pussy was the year I turned twenty."
"I don't know why you're jealous," Rory smirked. "It's not like Sam's getting eighteen-year-old pussy anymore either. What is she now? Twenty-two?" "Twenty-two," Sam answered. "But I can have eighteen-year-old pussy anytime I want it." He couldn't believe how easily that had come out. How quickly that last shot of Jack Daniels must have gone to his head.
"What? You got a time machine?" Cash snorted a laugh and reached for beer. He should have stopped himself there, but the part of him who'd wanted to top Rory's incessant bragging overpowered him and Sam said, "Sara and I swing." Not sure what he'd expected from them, he certainly hadn't imagined the wide-eyed stares that had turned toward him. Even Rory, who had always had a way to top
everything, was stunned speechless. For a moment Sam just sat back in his chair, smugly smiling as he tilted his Guinness for a long swallow. "Swing?" Glen was the first one to speak. "Like… You let her fuck other men?" "And she lets me fuck other women," he shrugged. "And sometimes we fuck them together." "As in… threesomes?"
"Sometimes more," Sam said. "Shut the fuck up!" Rory finally found his voice. "You let other dudes tap your fiancé's ass?" The alcohol was obviously making him bolder, as Sam lifted his shoulder again in casual admission. "And sometimes her cunt." "Jesus, dude!" Cash gasped. "If I had a girl like that…" his voice trailed off.
"I wouldn't let just anybody fuck her," Rory finished the thought everyone was thinking. "Guys, guys, guys…" Sam began. "It's a two way street. I don't just let anyone fuck her. It's something we do together. It's actually made us stronger as a couple. I mean really, when I was married to Caroline just the thought of another man even looking at her drove me insane, but with Sara… I don't know. I get off on watching her with other people,
and she feels the same way." The waitress returned with their fourth round of shots, but no one paid her any mind and for almost three minutes after she walked away the full shot glasses she'd brought just sat there on the table. It was Glen who finally spoke, shaking his head and muttering the word, "Swingers." "Jesus Christ, Sam!" Rory finally slapped him on the back with a hearty laugh. "And here I thought
you'd gone all soft and stale on us, but it turns out you're the horniest dog at the fucking table." "I'll drink to that!" Cash said, lifting his shot glass. Everyone followed his lead and hammered back another shot as Rory motioned for the waitress to bring them another round.
***
Sara hadn't giggled so much in ages, and while most women would have scoffed at having a good old fashioned slumber party on the eve of their wedding, she, Becky and Juliet knew they wouldn't have had any more fun if they'd hired buff, oily strippers to come and gyrate all over the living room. "My turn, my turn." Juliet tilted the bottle of wine they'd been sharing and swallowed a gulp
before lowering it and swiping her hand across her lips. With her free hand she leaned forward and spun the bottle on the floor between them, watching as it circled around and around before wobbling to a halt in front of Becky. "Truth or dare?" she asked, "And don't be a little pussy this time if you take dare." "Did you just call me a little pussy?" Becky giggled and tossed her auburn ponytail over her
shoulder. "Just for that, I'm taking truth." "Pussy," Sara snorted a laugh and grabbed the bottle from Juliet. "You two love that word, don't you?" Becky rolled her eyes and then tilted her head while she thought for a moment. "Truth. I'm still taking truth. You can call me a pussy all you want." "Fine," Juliet drawled, casually resting on her outstretched arm.
"Speaking of pussies, you said you always knew you liked girls, even when you were in high school, but you were just too afraid to act on it." "That's true," Becky said. "That's not the question, silly. The question is…" she paused, drawing it out for dramatic effect. "The question is did you ever fantasize about licking Sara's pretty little pussy when you were in high school."
Becky's face immediately flushed bright pink and she dropped her gaze to the floor in front of them. "Truth," Juliet ordered, wagging her finger at Becky as she started chanting, "Truth, truth, truth." "The truth is, yes and no." Sara felt the soft muscles in her cunt tighten as the familiar tingle of desire warmed her from the inside
out. Even after she'd found out Becky was a lesbian, she'd never even considered the possibility of sex with her. She was Sam's daughter, for Pete's sake, and in less than twenty-four hours Becky would be her stepdaughter. It felt unreal when she tried to process that thought. "Yes and no?" Juliet asked. "That's not a very clear answer." "I told the truth," she shrugged, and Sara noticed she was avoiding
her eyes. "On to the next. Sara, it's your spin." "You are a total bitch," Juliet laughed and leaned over to brush her lips against Becky's cheek. "And just to make you squirm, I can tell you I've had that delicious pink snatch, and you missed out." Sara spun the bottle and watched it circle on the hardwood floor in front of her. It wobbled and rocked to a rest on Becky again, and the red-haired girl groaned and
crossed her arms over her chest. "Now you two are just ganging up on me," she huffed. "You wish," Juliet winked over at Sara. "Yes, you do wish," Sara agreed. "Truth or dare, Becky?" She scrunched her freckled nose for a second as she thought over her options, and then threw her hands up in the air. "Whatever, fuck it!
Dare." Sara thought for a minute, her mind grappling with the best way to initiate the fantasy she'd dreamed up earlier, and decided to start it with something Becky would be more comfortable with. "Okay, I dare you to finger fuck Juliet for two minutes right in front of me." "No, no, no!" Juliet said. "That's something she does all the time! Make it juicier."
"I don't finger you in front of Sara all the time," Becky protested, her cheeks glowing pink again. "I've never fingered you in front of Sara!" "There's a first time for everything," Sara grinned. "Juliet, take off your panties, get up on the couch and spread your legs wide so I can see." "Fine," Juliet sighed. "But I'd much rather watch her finger you." Juliet pushed herself up off the
floor and slid her panties down her thighs. Kicking them off, she walked over to the couch and slouched back, spreading her thin, beautiful legs wide open to reveal the soft patch f neatly trimmed brown hair covering her pussy lips. She was already glistening wet, and Sara knew Becky's fingers would slip right in. Sara and Becky crawled across the floor to rest in front of Juliet, and Becky sat down cross-legged
between Juliet's thighs. Sara couldn't believe Becky, who'd always been incredibly private about her sexuality despite Juliet's openness, was actually going to go through with it. Becky drew in a deep breath to calm herself and then stuck her pointer finger out straight. "She's already sopping wet," Sara noticed. "All this talk about licking pussies made her all hot and horny."
Juliet giggled and wiggled her hips to push them further off the end of the sofa. "Are you gonna time me?" Becky asked. Sara glanced over at the clock on the mantle, watching and waiting for it to turn over. As soon as it said 10:57 she said, "Okay, go." Becky started out slow, feathering one fingertip in a circle around Juliet's folds to moisten it
before she plunged her index finger into the tight, shiny hole. Sara watched as she pushed in knuckle deep and then drew it back out again and again while Juliet laid her head back on the cushion behind her and closed her eyes. "That feels nice," she sighed. "Fuck me with two fingers, Becky." Becky obliged, cramming her middle finger into Juliet's cunt and slowly pumping both fingers in and out as Juliet started to moan. Sara
watched, her eyes wide with want and the tip of her tongue sweeping out in remembrance of Juliet's sweet, salty taste. It'd been awhile since she'd been with Juliet and Sara wondered how Becky would feel if Sara dove in and started snacking on her girlfriend's snatch. She glanced over at the clock, only a minute had passed and Becky was really starting to get into it. She jerked her fingers back and forth as she plunged in and out of Juliet's
depths, making her mmm and ahh with every exhale. Sara watched her glistening fingers emerge and disappear, and each time they came out they were slicker than before. It was driving her crazy, the pit of her stomach clenched and humming with need, and she knew if she reached down into her panties, the crotch would be soaked. "Less than a minute left," she told Becky, who seemed to have relaxed just a little and was now
getting into a rhythm, sweeping her the end of her thumb across the other girl's clit every time she pushed her fingers deep inside. She was sure to make Juliet cum if she kept going past three minutes, and knowing this Juliet whispered, "Don't you dare stop at three minutes." "Make her cum, Becky." Sara leaned in, her shoulder resting against Becky's as she watched her finger her lover's twat.
Becky obliged, quickening her pace as Juliet circled and swayed her hips to accommodate the fastmoving fingers about to get her off. Sara wanted to help, wanted to hear Juliet mewl and moan her release, but before she could dive in to assist, Juliet's orgasm echoed through the living room in a series of gasps and cries that reminded Sara of just how much she'd always enjoyed making her friend cum. Becky's fingers slowed as Juliet's
pleasure ebbed, and then she withdrew them, holding them up for Sara to inspect. "That was longer than three minutes," Becky smirked. Funny, Sara thought. She'd never really paid much attention to the resemblance between Becky and her father, but Sam had flashed her that cynical smirk so many times it was impossible not to notice. Sara reached out and curled her fingers around Becky's hand, and for a
moment the other girl stiffened to her touch, not sure how to react. She started to relax as Sara brought her fingers to her lips, opening them to slide the cum-coated digits inside to taste them. She swirled her tongue out to lick the juices clean, bringing a soft moan calling at the back of Becky's throat. Sara watched the other girl's face, her cheeks flushed no longer with embarrassment, but with desire. Eyes closed, Becky relaxed
when Juliet sat up and rested her hand on the top of her lover's head to assure her that everything would be divine. Sara popped Becky's fingers out of her mouth and much to Becky's excited surprise she leaned forward and pressed her lips to Becky's, parting them slightly to tease her mouth with her tongue. Becky opened to receive her tongue, sinking in to accept the kiss and responding with another elated moan when Sara's mouth trailed
across her cheek and paused to tickle and nibble at her ear. Letting go of her hand, she positioned one hand on Becky's shoulder and allowed the other one to softly travel down to feel her breasts. They were small, but perky, just enough to fill the palm of Sara's hand and though it had been awhile since they'd changed together in high school gym class, Sara vaguely remembered the way Becky's soft, pink nipples used to harden at the drop of a hat. They were poking
through the fabric of her shirt now, stimulated by the squeeze and knead of Sara's skilled hands. "You want her to eat your pussy," Juliet whispered into Becky's ear. "That was what your fantasy was in high school, wasn't it? Sara down between your thighs, sucking and slurping until you came all over her face." "Yes," Becky's moaning admission was barely a whisper.
Juliet's hand traveled down over Sara's to gather the hem of Becky's short nightgown in her hand. She lifted it to expose her pink panties, and Sara glanced down to watch Juliet's fingers slip into the side to jerk and poke while Becky released a gasp between delight and surprise. "You used to tickle your little clit until you came," Juliet went on, "imagining it was Sara's tongue dancing and licking and then you'd plunge your fingers in and pretend that was her tongue too."
Becky said nothing but the word, "Yes," again, and Sara knew what she had to do. Juliet laid Becky back on the floor and Sara slid her panties off. She spread Becky's creamy thighs apart and bent forward on her knees to admire the soft, red patch of hair above her cunt. Freckles dotted every inch of her skin, and Sara thought it was the most beautiful thing she'd ever seen. She wanted to kiss them all, one by one,
until Becky begged her to bury her face in her cunt. But Becky had waited for years to finally have what she was about to get, and as divine as torture could sometimes be, Sara didn't want to make her wait anymore. First she reached her finger out to trace through the slick folds of Becky's fat pussy lips. Her aroma wafted up to greet Sara, promising a taste unlike any she'd ever known before. It was the taste of forbidden
fruit, something Sara had learned to gobble up whenever it was offered to her. She wasted no time diving in, her open mouth closing first over the hard, swollen nub of Becky's clit, tongue sweeping out to dance across it as her lips gently kissed and suckled. Becky cried out immediately, as if the final culmination of her ultimate fantasy coming true was almost more than she could handle. Sara slid her
tongue down through her folds, the first salty taste of her flavor exploded gloriously across her taste buds. She immediately moved down further, pushing her stiff tongue into Becky's hole and curling it up inside her while Becky jerked and mewed soft cries of pleasure. Sara reached down between her legs while she ate Becky's pussy and stroked her own swollen nub through her sopping wet panties. When Juliet saw what she was
doing, she came over and positioned herself behind Sara. Jerking her panties off, she dove in fast from behind and began to slurp at Sara's cunt. No one ate pussy like Juliet, and Sara began to pump her hips backwards, face-fucking one friend while lapping skillfully at the other. Becky arched her back and reached down to push Sara's face deeper into her folds, her clenched fingers tangling into Sara's hair and
pulling tight. "Oh god, Sara," Becky breathed, her voice a hoarse whisper of delight. "Yes Sara, yes! Eat my pussy, Sara! Eat my pussy!" Sara had no intention of stopping until Becky was quivering and creaming, and even then she planned to slide her tongue back in deep to lick every drop of juice that gushed from her cunt. That was when Juliet decided to
share the surprise she and Becky had planned for Sara. After commanding Sara not to move, she slipped away and disappeared up the stairs to Becky's bedroom. Without the wonderful distraction of Juliet's expert tongue swirling around her pussy, Sara was able to concentrate on getting Becky off. She poked her fingers in and out fast, fucking her hard while wagging her tongue like a thirsty dog ad Becky's hot, juicy twat.
Becky's already tightly squeezing hand gripped tighter as her body tensed and her hips pressed upward into Sara's mouth. When she started to jerk and writhe with orgasm, Sara pulled her fingers out and pushed her hungry tongue inside Becky's hole. She lapped up every gush of cum that poured from the other girl's pussy, and didn't stop until Becky's body relaxed onto the floor with a howling sigh of release.
"Jesus, Sara," she breathed out. "My God! Where the hell did you learn to do that?" Sara lifted her head and rested her chin on her hand, propping her arm on her elbow between Becky's thighs. "Juliet," she admitted. "She taught me everything I know about eating pussy." Becky leaned up on her elbows and said, "That was better than I dreamed."
Sara grinned. "I'm happy I could make your dream come true." For a moment Becky looked away, veiling her eyes with heavy, nervous lids, and then she asked. "Can I see how you taste?" "I thought you'd never ask," she giggled. But before Becky could get busy between Sara's thighs, Juliet came down the stairs completely naked save for a big, black strap-on dildo
jutting from between her legs. "All right," she arrived at the bottom of the stairs and placed her hands on her hips. "You eat her and I'll fuck her." Sara's eyes widened with anticipation as she tried to imagine how on earth they were going to carry out that plan. But they made it work, with Sara spread wide over Becky's eager face while Juliet fucked her hard from behind until she was screaming in blissful
release. It was going on one o'clock before they finally finished satisfying Sara and ordered her to go to bed. "You need your beauty sleep," Juliet said, kissing her gently on the temple. "Tomorrow is your big day." "Yes," Becky agreed with a giggle. "Mommy dearest needs her rest."
"You two are the best friends a girl could ask for. Thank you," Sara said, "for making my last night as a single lady worth remembering." Becky and Juliet grinned, both of them proud of their achievement. Once upstairs, Sara turned down the sheets and climbed into bed. After turning out the light, she curled up with Sam's pillow. They'd spent hundreds upon hundreds of nights apart while she was going to college, but in the last few months
since she'd moved in, she'd become so accustomed to snuggling up in his arms and listening to him slow breathing as she went to sleep that for a long time she laid there in the dark turning her mind over the events about to unfold. Sometimes her life seemed so unreal. She was so deeply in love with Sam, and she'd never imagined in her wildest dreams finding the love of her life while she was still young enough to enjoy everything
with him. Married… She and Sam were getting married in the morning, embarking on a new chapter of their life together and it was that blissful thought combined with the contentment of the most amazing night with Juliet and Becky that sent her off to dreamland.
***
Sam couldn't believe they'd talked him into it. Everything in his mind had screamed NO! from the moment Rory first made the suggestion, but then Cash and Glen had jumped on the bandwagon and the begging started. Two hours, three beers and six shots later Sam was too drunk to deny them. He might regret it in the morning, and Sara might just call off the wedding, but he'd had too many shots to try and stop them now.
And even worse, he probably wasn't even going to make it up the stairs to stand by and watch the festivities. "Don't worry," Rory said, shoving him down onto the couch. "We'll take good care of her." "Yeah," Cash chimed in. "We'll be gentle with her." "No," Sam started to protest. "Wait…"
But it was too late. Glen, Rory and Cash had already started tiptoeing up the stairs and Sam the room was spinning so fast he couldn't get up in time to stop them. He pulled himself off the couch, but immediately fell backwards into the cushions again, and when he started to feel like he was going to get sick, he just slumped down against the armrest and closed his eyes. As soon as everything stopped spinning, he'd hike up the stairs to try and
intervene… Sara hadn't heard them come in, and when fingers started prodding and jerking her around in the sheets, she thought at first she was having a strange dream about falling down a hole in the earth filled with grabby hands. She swatted them away and rolled onto her side, but the hands turned her over onto her back again. One of them slid the strap of her nightgown off her shoulder and
slipped into the fabric to cup her breast and she grinned. "That's enough you guys," she muttered. "I'm too tired to go another round." "Another round?" The voice that spoke those words was not one she recognized; it certainly wasn't Juliet, as she'd assumed. "We're just getting started." She started to sit up in the bed, but a pair of forceful hands pushed
her back down into the mattress and a heavy body pressed down hard on hers. The hot, rank stench of alcohol gusted into her face, but the way he'd pinned her down made it hard for her to turn her head away. "What the hell?" A softer voice, a softer hand reached out to her from beyond the crushing body atop her. "We don’t want to hurt you."
And the body on top of her pushed his hips hard into hers. Even through the rough material of his jeans she could feel his bulging hard on. "We just want to fuck you." "All of us," a third voice said from the opposite side of the bed. "At the same time," the body atop her added. Sara swallowed and prayed for her mind to make sense of the situation. Had someone broken into
the house to rape her? Her mind immediately jumped to Juliet and Becky. Were there other rapists in the house? Were her friends about to endure the same torment? "I want to fuck her in the ass," the one to her left said. "You can have her ass," the man on top shrugged. "I've been dying to get inside that tight little pussy since I got off the plane." The way he'd said tight little
pussy combined with the word plane registered their identity in her mind. Rory, Cash and Glen… Where the hell was Sam? Did he know anything about this? "Where's Sam?" She struggled underneath Rory. Cash started to laugh. "Fucker passed out on the couch. He never could hold his liquor." "Right." She relaxed her body. Sam had probably gotten drunk and
bragged about their sex life. They were going to have to have a little talk about discretion, especially if every one of his friends was going to react so vigorously to the idea of fucking his wife. "Well boys, this is your one and only shot at this tight little pussy, so you better make the most of it. And I'm warning you now, you better make it quick. I'm getting married tomorrow and I'm not doing it with bags under my eyes because I didn't get enough sleep."
They were all drunk, and as they fumbled around to take their clothes off, she couldn't imagine their endeavor to gang bang her was going to go over very well. Rory immediately took charge, however, sitting down on the edge of the bed and ordering her to climb onto his cock. "Wow," she laughed. "You're real smooth, Rory." For as much as Rory seemed to like talking about all the ass he got, he wasn't much for
coaxing, and Sara hadn't ever let anyone but Sam dominate her in the bedroom. "You think I'm going to get all gushing wet just because you tell me to climb onto your cock? You woke me up in the middle of the night. The least you can do is get me in the mood." Rory was offended; she could see it in the condescending glare that flashed in his eyes. "And how does Sam get you in the mood." She shrugged. "He has his ways,"
she said. "But if you're gonna give me a nice wedding gift, I want it to be original." That made Rory grin, and he reached for her hand, tugging her over into his arms and rolling her onto the bed beneath him again. She felt the slippery head of his hard and ready dick brush at her thighs as he pushed them apart and rose up on his knees between them. She looked down at his rod, appreciative of the size, but again,
he was no Sam. Glancing toward the left side of the bed where Cash and Glen stood stroking their cocks and waiting, she noted that Cash was closer to Sam's size, and Glen was slightly longer, but thinner than Sam. She imagined at that length he could easily ram himself hard against her g-spot and make her scream, but he'd already called dibs on her ass. While the two of them stood on the sidelines and watched, Rory spit
onto his fingers and lowered them down to lube up her cunt. In theory, all she had to do was think about her threesome with Juliet and Becky earlier that night and she would have been dripping wet on her own, but she wasn't going to make things that easy for him. Especially if they'd gotten Sam drunk on purpose so they could gang bang her without him. Rory shoved his fingers up inside her, stretching apart her
muscles with every jerk and though try as she might to deny it, the rough treatment of her soft, dry pussy actually turned her on. She closed her eyes and released a slow breath that only seemed to encourage him to get rougher. He hammered his fingers in and out of her like a jack rabbit, the hard tip of his thumb fluttering almost violently across her clit. Treatment like that would have made her cum quick, but Rory didn't seem to care if she came or not. When he
thought she was wet enough, he stopped and leaned back on his heels in front of her. "Now you can sit on my cock." Sara didn't want to argue. Really, she was tired and she had a feeling they weren't going to make things easy for her at all. He moved to sit on the edge of the bed again and slapped his thighs as an invitation. Sara obliged, lifting her leg up over his lap and positioning her slippery hole over his fat, throbbing head. As
she glided her slick folds down over his shaft, he closed his eyes and groaned, leaning back and drawing her with him. Rory gripped her cheeks and spread them wide open, then told Glen to take her in the ass. She braced herself as the other man slid in behind her. He spit into his palm, lubing the head of his dick with saliva and then pushing it against her tightly clenched hole. He spit again, this time coating her asshole
with it, and then probing her with the tip of his cock until it stretched inside her, pushing slowly through her walls so both of them were buried deep inside her. "You are tight," Rory said, as if surprised. "I work out," she told him, grinning as she lifted herself up his length while Glen backed out until only his head lingered just inside her ass.
Rory punched back up inside her at the same time as Glen, and Sara cried out in painful delight. While they worked into a frenzied rhythm, taking turns pumping in and out of her, both of them filling her completely, she watched Cash stroking is cock at the side of the bed. "Let me get that for you," offered, and Cash obliged climbing up onto the bed pushing his hips toward her.
she her, and She
reached down and circled her fingers around his fat cock, stroking slowly and smiling when he closed his eyes and released a slow breath that almost sounded like relief. It took a few minutes for the four of them to find a groove, and even then the articulate stroke of her soft hand wasn't enough for Cash. Rory laid back in the bed and Cash climbed across him, much to his dismay, but before Rory could protest Cash shoved his meaty shaft
between her lips and began to vigorously fuck her mouth. She almost gagged as his fat head banged at the back of her throat, her reaction only serving to turn him on more. They stroked every one of her holes in simultaneous rhythm, and as reluctant as she'd been to actually let herself enjoy their lusty tryst, Sara realized she'd never been so full of cock before in her life. She'd had two guys in bed with her
before, one in her ass and one in her cunt, but never three. A part of her lamented that Sam wasn't there on the edge of the bed, watching her face while he stroked his cock. He might have liked to see his three closest friends fucking the hell out of her. Between Glen and Rory doubleramming her g-spot, Sara knew that even if she wanted to hold back, she couldn't. Every hammering thrust brought her closer earth-shattering
orgasm, and when it gripped and shuddered through her innermuscles, her body almost spasmed against her will. The convulsion drove Cash even deeper into her gagging mouth, the vibration of her vocal cords bringing him to his own spurting conclusion. Hot rushes of creamy, salty cum burst against the back of her throat and when he pulled out of her mouth he was still shooting his load, painting her face with the last few gushes of sticky jiz. Sara felt them dripping down
her cheeks and chin, and as Cash backed away and slid off, she reached up to wipe his leavings into her mouth. "That's hot," Rory said, watching her gobble up every last drop of his friend's cum while she bounced up and down on the double-team still fucking away. "If you weren't marrying my best friend, I'd fucking marry you! You're a goddamn gem." Sara took that as a compliment, swirling her hips in a quick,
appreciative jerk that assured her just a few more stirring slams would have her creaming all over Rory's cock again. The two of them inside her felt good, and even though she was tired and feeling guilty about letting them fuck her like that without Sam in the room, she couldn't stop them even if she wanted to, and besides, it was too late for that anyway. She bounced hard and fast, as if Rory's lap was a yoga ball beneath
her, jolting her backward with ever bounce to take Glen deep into her ass. She whimpered and moaned, her cunt and ass both tight and clenching around their cocks each time they drove into her. When it finally happened, the tight squeeze of her muscles and sudden second cumming brought Glen to climax. The combined relief and regret that filled her when he withdrew his cock was immediately quelled by the burning geyser of cum he sprayed all over her back.
With only Rory left inside her, she wondered how long he could keep going. She ground down hard, bouncing up and thumping down again. The sweaty slap of her ass cheeks sounded again and again as she rode him like a cowgirl at a rodeo with one hand squeezing his shoulder to hold on as he bucked like a wild bull intent on throwing her off. But she held on, increasing her own speed to match his until she
felt the cords in his neck tighten and his body grow rigid beneath her. With his strong hands, Rory lifted her off his cock just in time for him to shower her with his own sticky, sweet offering. It shot up to splash against her chin and breasts, cooling as it began to run in tickling rivers down her skin. Rory was still holding her up as if she was little more than a ragdoll, and for a moment she admired the flexing muscles and veins in his arms.
Glen and Cash were already getting dressed, both of them stopping to thank her almost shyly and saying goodnight before shuffling out of the room and leaving her alone with Rory. He sat up on the edge of the bed and searched the floor for his clothes. "I'm not drunk anymore," he noted with a soft chuckle before bending down to pick up his pants. Sara climbed off the bed and sorted through the laundry basket
in the bedroom closet for the towel she'd used after her shower the night before. Wrapping it around her chest, she tucked it in and turned back around just as Rory was zipping up his fly. "Sam didn't give you permission to do that did he?" she asked, crossing her arms over the towel. "Not exactly," he answered, sheepishly refusing to meet her gaze.
"He wouldn't, you know." "I know," he nodded. "And if he remembers in the morning, he might not ever forgive you." A defeated sigh deflated his chest. "I know that too." "I'll tell him I was okay with it," she said. "That I invited you into our bed." "Why would you do that for
me?" For the first time since he'd shot his load all over her body, Rory looked into her eyes. Another sigh escaped him and he said, "I meant what I said, and not just because of the way you fuck. Sam's a lucky guy." She offered him a soft smile and then said, "Goodnight, Rory." In the shower she leaned against the cold tile wall and let the hot beads of water pound down on her skin. She and Sam had done a lot of
crazy things together, a lot of wonderful things, but they'd promised each other early on that they would only explore those things together. She didn't know why she'd told Rory she'd stick up for the three of them when Sam asked what happened, and he would ask. It could destroy everything they had, but if she hadn't let them in, they might have taken her anyway… She was tired and confused,
scared that Sam might never forgive her when he found out what they'd done while he was passed out on the couch. After washing her body clean, she slipped into clean pajamas and crept quietly downstairs. He was still passed out on the couch, his soft snores the only sound. She contemplated waking him and making him come to bed, but decided against it. She covered him with a blanket from the linen closet
and just as she was lifting it up around his shoulders, his hand reached out slowly to grasp her wrist. "Were they gentle with you?" he mumbled. "They promised they'd be gentle with you." She brushed the curls from his forehead and bent down to kiss him there. "They were." "Good," he rolled into his side, still holding her hand. "I'm sorry,"
he murmured, closing his eyes again. In less than the time it took her to tuck the blanket around him again, Sam was asleep and snoring. Sara climbed the stairs and after changing the sheets, she crawled back into the empty bed and fell asleep thinking about the future.
***
Sam didn't see Sara in the morning. Juliet and Becky had herded all the men out of the house before Sara even climbed out of bed, and while they rushed him to the church, Sam nursed one of the worst hangovers he'd ever had in his entire life. They wouldn't even let him send Sara a text to let her know he was thinking about her, that he was sorry he'd been so drunk he couldn't stop his friends from taking advantage of her, and for most of the morning he worried
that when she was queued to walk down the aisle she wouldn't be there. He stood at the altar wringing his hands and pacing the small space between Rory and himself and when the music finally announced the arrival of the bride, Sam surveyed the sea of faces staring back at him from the pews. Then he saw her, and even though her face was covered in a thin white veil, she was the most beautiful
woman Sam had ever seen. He watched entranced as she stepped down the aisle toward him, and through the veil he could see the faint outline of her face. She was smiling, happily walking to meet him, and the weight of guilt and terror that she wouldn't show up at all suddenly lifted away from his chest and he could breathe again. When she stepped in beside him, he leaned close to her and breathed in the familiar scent of her
perfume, and from that moment on everything else was a breeze. They moved through the ceremony, and when Sam lifted the veil to finally look into her eyes, he couldn't stop grinning. He was the luckiest man in the world, and he and Sara were going to have an incredible life together. He leaned in to kiss her, and her lips tasted like berries, her tongue like mint, and when the minister introduced them to the congregation as Mr. and Mrs. Samuel Charles it felt like the
whole world rose in a standing ovation for them, or maybe he and Sara were just the only two people in his universe at that moment. As they raced down the sidewalk beneath a shower of birdseed and excited congratulations, Sam helped her into the waiting limo and then slid in beside her, closing the door behind him. She fell against him laughing before the driver even pulled away from the curb, and he lowered his arm around her
shoulders, drawing her close and kissing her cheek. "This has been the most amazing day of my entire life," she said, turning her lips into his. "Yeah?" he asked. She nodded eagerly, lifting her hand to rest on his cheek. "Yeah." "Well, I hope you're prepared for a long line of the most amazing days of your life, little girl."
Grinning, Sara leaned back to look into his eyes. "Does it start with this amazing honeymoon you've been teasing me about for months? Where are you taking me, Sam?" "Maybe," he grinned. "You'll just have to wait and see. It's a surprise." "I hope you'll always surprise me, Sam." "I will," he promised, kissing her
again. And as the limo pulled out into traffic, Sam reached down to lift his bride's gown, sneaking his hand under the skirt and traveling up the length of her thigh to surprise her. "Mr. Charles!" Sara gasped, and then burst into giggles before leaning forward to close the window between them and the driver. Falling back into her husband's arms, she snuck her hand down to unbuckle the belt of his pants and
slipped it in to grip the soft, warm skin of his hard, waiting cock. Their new life together was already off to a good start, and she couldn't wait to see where he planned to take her on their honeymoon. In the meantime, she planned to take him straight to heaven before they even made it to their wedding reception.
HIS NAUGHTY LITTLE GIRL
Blaine never liked me, and truth be told the feeling was mutual. Actually, I had always hated him. Not only did he come into our lives and steal my mom away from me, but he forced us to move from the small Kansas town I grew up in to a whole new country. Moving to London was nothing like moving to the next town over, let me tell you. Talk about culture shock. To make matters even worse,
Blaine was never even around to help us adjust. He was always away on business, leaving Mom and I home alone in a world so different than the one we came from. And then Mom got sick. My entire life spiraled out of control so fast… she was gone before I knew it, and I was left alone with him. I would have flown right back to Kansas and reclaimed my life, but I had no one there to take me in. I was an orphan.
I was stuck with Blaine. Eighteen and still six months from high school graduation. For the most part we stayed out of each other's way. He didn't ask where I was going when he was actually home, and he never seemed to mind the outrageous parties I threw for a bunch of school friends I barely knew when he was away on business. I was sure the maid told him about the messes I left for her to clean up, but I didn't care. I'd lost everything that ever mattered to
me, and the one person who should have been there to comfort me and grieve with me went on living like nothing bad had happened. I hated him. I wished him dead every time he packed his suitcase and headed out the door without so much as a warning to behave myself while he was gone. He just left me again and again, and I felt so alone. I missed my mom so much that whenever Blaine was gone, I'd cry
myself to sleep in their bed. And that was where he found me the night everything changed between us. I had downed half a bottle some $500 wine from Blaine's untouchable collection and passed out in the bed. I never even heard him come in, but the warmth of his arms circling around me and the nuzzle of his lips behind my ear woke me right up. His strong arms tightened around me, pulling me
back against his naked body, and I stiffened as trembles coursed through me. He was naked, his stiffening cock nudging into the small of my back as he drew me closer. Not that Blaine wasn't one of the hottest forty-six-year-old men I'd ever seen, mind you. If he hadn't been married to my mom for one, and such an asshole to boot, I probably would have crushed all over him, but he was my stepdad,
and as far as I was concerned he'd totally ruined my life. And now he was trying to fuck me? "Katherine," he moaned softly, his tongue gliding along the curve of my neck before his lips latched on to tenderly suckle. Katherine? Great! He thought I was my mom. "Blaine." I struggled a little, but his arms pressed even tighter and I felt like a rabbit caught in a boa
constrictor's death grip. This was all kinds of bad, especially when the tender trace of his lips sent shivers of delight rippling across my skin. A soft breath escaped me before my wits returned, a breath that encouraged his advances. "Are you freakin' drunk?" I whispered. He rolled me onto my back and moved in to hover above me. In the half-light eking through the slatted window blinds, I watched shadows play over his face. His eyes were
closed, and the shadow of stubble on his cheeks made him look rugged. Blaine never looked rugged. In the four years since I'd known him, he'd always been precise and meticulous about his appearance. He shaved every morning, and while there was certainly nothing wrong with that, the stubble actually made him hotter, especially in that light. I lifted my hand to his cheek, prickly hair brushing my palm as he leaned closer to me.
His hungry lips dove in to taste mine. Sweet wine lingered on his tongue, I tasted it as he swept into my mouth, but instead of pushing him away, I relaxed into that kiss and relished in the rich lesson of experience he was about to teach me. I'd kissed a lot of guys, but Blaine's kiss was different, every move slow and deliberate. When his hand came down to cup my breast through the soft fabric of my nightgown, I arched my
back and pressed my chest against his. He squeezed and kneaded, pinching my soft nipple until it hardened between his thumb and finger and I gasped excited pain against his mouth. "You like that?" He laughed, an almost sinister chuckle. The tone of his voice made me want him to hurt me more. "Yes," I whispered. "It feels so good."
In a deft sweep, he lifted my nightgown up over my head and it got lost within the sheets. His hard mouth soon replaced his kneading, pinching fingers and I cried out in delicious agony when he clamped his teeth down on my rock hard nipple. His tongue swept between his teeth, soothing the pain, and then he bit down again, alternating between suckling and nipping until my nipple felt raw from his attention.
This left his hands free, and trailing fingers slid along the flat surface of my stomach. It tickled, and I bucked unexpectedly, which made him laugh again. Soft fingertips teased in a dance that crawled further downward until I felt them brush the bare skin of my smoothly shaved cunt. "You shaved," he said surprised. "Always." As his wandering fingers moved
the lips of my pussy apart, I wondered if he was really so drunk that he still thought he'd crawled into bed with my mother. It made me sad, realizing how much he must miss her, and for the first time since he'd swept in to shatter the life I'd always known, I felt a connection with him. I missed her too, and sometimes the pain of losing her was more than I could bear. We could forget that pain together if we really wanted, and when his index finger dipped
through my moist folds, I arched my back again, my mind filled with nothing but the delightful feeling of his probing finger. "You're so wet." He wiggled his finger against the entrance to my hole and added, "And so tight." He slipped that finger inside me and I gasped when he curled and pushed slow and deep until his knuckle brushed against the aching nub of my clit. As he withdrew, he stiffened his middle finger beside
the other and plunged back inside, spreading me wider. He circled his thumb up and began deliberately rolling over my clit in soft strokes while his fingers worked in and out. Every slip inside made me wetter than the last, his pumping fingers building up a rhythm while his thumb continued to flicker—a gentle plea for me to cum. "Blaine…" It was wrong, and I knew it, but it felt so good I didn't want him to stop. I moved my hand
through the stubble on his cheek and into the clipped curls his soft brown hair. I clenched my fingers around them, pulling his hair softly every time he pushed his hard fingers inside me. "Blaine," I breathed his name again, the soft sound disappearing between his lips as he swooped in to kiss me again. His mouth trailed across my cheek, down my neck and found my nipple again. He sucked and teased, soothing his tongue out to taste and
soothe after ever torturous nibble, but soon his mouth began to wander lower. The brush of his stubble against my stomach sparked an inferno of desire inside me that wouldn't be quelled until he was inside me. But Blaine had other plans, I realized, as he pulled his fingers out of my hole, spread my legs and positioned himself between them. He lifted my calves up to rest on his shoulders and rested his cheek
against my thigh. He was so close I could feel the hot pulses of his breath across my quivering cunt. The only warning before his soft mouth opened over my clit was the gruff brush of facial hair against my thigh and then absolute heaven. His warm, wet tongue slipped between my pussy lips, striving upward until his suckling lips clamped down on my hard little nub. I writhed against his mouth, pushing my hips closer as his
fingers found their way back inside me and his lips and tongue lapped and sucked, swirled and danced around my pussy. I felt myself getting wetter, his saliva mixing with my sticky juices to paint his face and my inner thighs. Plunging fingers fucked me harder, jamming in and out while I continued to buck and squirm under the delectable torture of his lips and tongue. I tangled my hand in his hair
again, tugging and pulling, pushing his face down hard into my cunt until I could feel the tingling onset of orgasm clench the walls of my pussy around his fingers. I threw my head back into the pillows and cried out release, and Blaine drew his fingers out. He dipped his tongue deep inside to lap up the cum pouring from my hole, and didn’t stop until ever last drop had been devoured. He ducked out from under my
legs and rose up, swiping the back of his hand across his mouth. The shadow of his beautiful cock buoyed in the dim fingers of light reaching across the room and I pushed myself up on my elbows to have a look. Hand reaching out, I curled my fingers around the thick base and squeezed gently as I worked upward in soft strokes that made him moan. I didn't think it was even possible, but the sound of his
pleasure made me even hotter than I already was. I wanted more, for the heated echo of his moans to fill the night, so I rolled forward onto my knees and knelt in front of him still gripping his cock in my hand. I rubbed the head against my cheek, surprised but delighted by the bead of precum that smeared across my skin. I traced the smooth head around my lips, and then opened my mouth to slide him inside. A strangled sound caught at the
back of his throat when I closed my lips over his head and swirled my tongue across his hole to taste the last lingering drop of his salty offering. I pushed as much of him into my mouth as I could, his girth stretching my mouth as I bobbed up and down until he I felt his cock bounce against the back of my throat. "Mm…" He dropped his hand atop my head, fingers grabbing for my ponytail and jerking almost
painfully before shoving me back down. His hips pumped as he fucked my mouth, muttering the words, "Oh yes, that's good. You're Daddy's naughty little girl." Knowing that he was well aware then just who was sucking his cock made me grin as I started to lift off, but he pushed my head back down and rammed his dick several times against my gag reflex. He seemed to relish in the convulsing reaction, pumping again and again, my own
saliva dribbling down my chin my mouth was so full of cock. "I'm going to punish you," he promised, gripping me by the hair again and lifting me away from his dick. He slipped out of my mouth with a soft pop. He let go of my hair and gripped me by the shoulders, turning me around to face the shadowed headboard. His hand roved across the curve of my ass with such gentle adoration that I pushed it up
higher in hopes that he'd take me from behind. His massaging, tender hand caught me off guard, made me relax, so when he lifted it back and landed a stinging slap against my skin I cried out in surprise. "You've been bad, Chloe," he hissed, soothing the place where his hand had stung just seconds before. "Throwing parties while I'm away." He whacked me again, and I gasped. "Getting into the wine cellar without my permission." Another
whack that left the nerves under my skin throbbing in pain. "How many boys did you fuck on the sofa?" Smack! And I shuddered. "How many?" "None," I lied. He slapped my ass again. "The truth, Chloe. How many?" Had the maid been spying on me more than I thought? Peeping from the closet while I rode cock after cock and then reporting directly
back to Blaine the minute he got home? "Two," I said. "Don't lie to me, you dirty little slut!" His teeth were clenched when he said those words, spittle spraying out against my back just seconds before he whacked me with his hand again. "Okay, four. I fucked four guys on the sofa!" I admitted, even though I didn't want him to stop
spanking me. "And how many in my bed?" "None," I said. "I swear." "I don't believe you," he seethed. "But it's true," I cried. "I've never fucked anyone in your bed." He brought his hand down in one final stinging slap and said, "Good." His gentle palm smoothed over the sting again, soft, soothing circles. "I will be your first then."
He positioned his hands under my hips and hoisted my ass higher in front of him. The swollen head of his cock brushed against my ass cheeks when he did this, dripping wet with pre-cum again. He let go of my hips and used his hand to tease my pussy, rolling the head around the outside of my tight little hole, stroking it through my folds in prequel to the carnal fucking he was about to unleash on me. When Blaine slipped inside me,
he did it slowly, the torture of his deliberate stroke unlike anything I'd ever felt before. He pushed deep inside until he was fully sheathed within my walls and I could feel his balls hovering against my cunt. "I want you to call me daddy," he said as he slammed his hips against my ass cheeks, ramming me so hard my cervix shuddered inside me. "I will," I promised. "Now!" He punched into me again without mercy, his cool sack
slapping my wet folds. "Please Daddy," I whimpered. "Please Daddy what?" he leaned forward, stretching me until I ached. "What do you want Daddy to do to you?" "I want you to fuck me, Daddy," I pleaded. "Fuck me hard." Blaine slammed his cock into me, gripping my hips again and jerking me back again and again.
Every stroke through my wet walls made me shudder and for the first time in months I wasn't consumed with the anger and pain of loss. I ground back on his cock without prodding, but he continued to squeeze my small hips in his hands, ramming and bucking like a beast. "You like that, you dirty girl?" he said. "You like the way Daddy fucks you?" "Yes, Daddy!" I cried out. "Oh god, yes!"
"You won't be fucking anyone else in my house." He hammered into me again. "You won't be fucking anyone at all," he said. "Only me." The fury of his pounding slowed on that command, his sweet, hot cock gliding in and out of my sopping wet pussy with purposeful deliberation. Every thrust was like a dream, filling me completely, but I wanted to see his face.
"Blaine," I whispered, and when he didn't respond I said, "Daddy." "Yes?" "I want to see your face," I told him. "I want you to know exactly who it is you're fucking." "I know," he said, still thrusting into me as he spoke. "I know it's you, Chloe." "I can close my eyes and pretend you're someone else," I said.
"Anyone else… I want to see your face. I want to know it's you, Daddy." Blaine slid his cock out of me and still holding my hip, he turned me over onto my back. I bounced down onto the bed beneath him, lifting my right leg up and around him. He gripped my calves and slid me down further, then dropped in on me from above. He teased me with the head of his cock again, swirling around my hole before
plunging it back into me with a quick thrust of his hips. Once he was inside me, he lowered his body onto mine and nuzzled his mouth over my cheek. "You like fucking your daddy?" he whispered. "Yes." I reached up to turn his face into mine, my mouth seeking his out. His lips crushed mine, pushing them open with his tongue. "I've always wanted you, little
girl" he told me. "Now your pussy is mine." He ground his hips down into mine, my warm cunt taking his cock again and again. "My little girl," he whispered. "My naughty little girl." Every time he said those words it made me hotter, and I wrapped my legs around him, bucking up to meet his thrusts with insatiable vigor. "Oh Daddy," I moaned, the stubble of his cheek brushing
deliciously against my face. "I love the way you feel inside me, Daddy." "You love Daddy's big cock?" "Oh yes," I cried. "I love Daddy's big cock." This made him pound harder, and I accommodated every single hammering bang with a cry. The wet slap of his balls against my ass tickled, but I delighted in it, shivering and shuddering underneath him and squeezing the muscles of my cunt tighter around his shaft.
He picked up speed again, pumping in and out of me so fast I knew I was going to cum. "Cum for Daddy," he groaned against my neck, ramming harder. It was like he read my mind and knew exactly what I needed to push me over the edge. He stroked and slammed, ramming me so hard I finally exploded all over his cock, warm cum sloshing out from my hole and splashing our thighs as he kept hammering in and out of me.
"That's right," he said. "Cum for Daddy." "I'm cumming!" I cried. "I'm cumming!" "Good girl," he panted and slowed his strokes again, pushing himself deep into me as I arched upward to accept him completely. "I want you to cum too." I reached down and squeezed his ass in my hand, pumping him up and down. "I want you to cum all over
me." "Call me pleaded.
Daddy
again,"
he
"Cum for me, Daddy." Blaine picked up the pace again, ramming me so hard I thought I'd cum again myself before he unleash the geyser of cum building up inside him. I was so close, every slam of his hips against mine, every poke of his cock against my cervix driving me to the edge of release,
but then he backed out of me unexpectedly and posed himself on his knees above me. He wrapped his fingers around the base of his cock and began stroking upward in quick jerks. "Cum for me, Daddy," I begged him. "Cum all over me." As the fountain of hot, creamy cum exploded from the head of his cock and squirted all over my belly and tits, I wished the lights were on. I wanted to see the look on his face,
the twisted excitement of release as my big bad daddy came all over me, but there would be other times… at least I hoped so. I reached out a hand to help him jack the last spurts of cum out, watching the outline of his shadow arch and convulse until he finally collapsed onto the bed beside me. He reached for me, and I curled into his arms, resting my head on his chest as I fell asleep listening to him catch his breath.
The next morning I woke up in bed beside him. He was still sleeping, and in the grey light of morning I watched him. He looked different to me, and I wondered how he would feel when he woke up. He'd obviously been drunk… would he even remember? I climbed out of bed and shuffled into the kitchen to make coffee. I stood beside the pot, listening to it percolate and staring out the window into the alley
behind the flat. I couldn't stop thinking about him, the way he'd felt inside me, his soft confession that he'd always wanted me… that now he could have me. Had he really meant it, or had it just been the wine talking. I was so caught up in my reverie, I didn't hear him come into the kitchen until he slid in behind me and wrapped his arms around my waist. He rested his chin atop my head and drew me back against his
chest, his hips pushing into me from behind. "How's Daddy's naughty little girl this morning?" I felt his stiff cock rise up to brush the small of my back and grinned; not only had he remembered, but he was ready to do it again. Everything between Blaine and I had changed… and I was looking forward to cumming again and again with him.
DADDY'S LITTLE ANGEL
The hot moisture of Maya's breath rushed back to heat her face again and again. Even though she fought to disguise the sound, it sounded like waves breaking on the shore and she was sure any minute her dad was going to look up and see the hazel flicker of her eye, her shadow hovering at the door crack, but so far he hadn't drawn his attention away from the maid down on her knees in front of him.
Rosa's hand glided up and down the stiff length of Daddy's fat erection, her lips slurping and sucking as he pumped his hips and drove himself in and out of the housekeeper's wide open mouth. Maya couldn't believe what he was doing. She'd always suspected her adoptive parents had marital trouble, but she'd never imagined she'd come home early from school one day to catch her dad buried ball's deep in the maid's mouth.
He grunted and moaned, one hand lowering to tangle and grip Rosa's hair, fist clenching tight around the strands as he pushed his cock against the back of her throat. Jesus! she thought, he's huge! She'd seen her share of pictures, knew what to expect from a naked man. Janice Houtz had brought a stack of really dirty magazines to a sleepover at Karen Michaels' house the summer before last, and the three of them had giggled and
fantasized about what it might feel like to have the dangling monster rise and grow fat and push between their thighs. Since then both Karen and Janice had lost their virginity, but Maya was still stuck on fantasy row with nothing but her own fingers to spur on her imagination. She'd tried a lot of other things too. The thin handle of her own hairbrush, a carrot and even a broom handle, but the pain was always too much and she could
never bring herself to pop her own cherry. So she stayed a virgin, getting off while tickling her own clit with her fingers, or bucking softly beneath the vibrating head of her mom's back massager when no one else was home, but beyond that her experience was relatively limited. Her parents never allowed her to date. And even though she was an eighteen-year-old high school senior just a handful of months
before graduation, they refused to budge on their rules about dating. "You'll have plenty of time to date when you're in college," her adoptive mother Elaine told her. "Though I'd much rather you focus on your studies. I'm not paying for a top-notch education just so you can fritter it away satisfying some romantic need that can wait." Elaine hadn't married Hugh until she was 37, and by the time she turned 40 and started thinking
about a family of her own, her body had shut down and refused her. That was when Hugh and Elaine adopted six-year-old Maya and made her a part of their family. For the most part, they'd been a happy family. Breadwinner Elaine made sure her daughter never wanted for anything, and Hugh, who was eight years younger than Elaine, took it upon himself to ensure that Maya got to have fun every once in awhile, even though Elaine herself didn't seem to understand the
concept. Maya had always felt closest to her dad because of his willingness to entertain her. They spent long afternoons at the zoo or the ice rink together, eating ice cream cones and telling each other knock-knock jokes. She was his little angel and she loved him more than she'd ever loved anyone, but over the years the close bond they shared seemed to rub Elaine the wrong way. She hated how much time Hugh spent
with their daughter, envied how easily they laughed together and grew to despise the bond between them. More than once over the years, Maya had fallen asleep to the sound of her parents fighting about Hugh and Maya. She barely heard what they said, but always knew it was about her, and it always ended with Elaine sobbing about how hard she worked to make sure their family wanted for nothing and Hugh
comforting his wife and promising that he didn't love anyone like he loved her. For days afterward, Hugh would distance himself from Maya, and Maya would cry herself to sleep, wondering what she'd done to make both her parents hate her so much. But she was older now, and judging from the flexed muscles of Hugh's ass as he hammered himself in and out of Rosa's gaping mouth, Maya guessed that her parents'
problems went well beyond them making her a part of their family twelve years earlier. Her mom was so focused on her career, on making money, she was never around and Hugh was obviously lonely. A pang tightened in the depth of her gut, the heat spreading downward, sparking through her womb and igniting the familiar sensation she'd come to associate with lust. In all her fantasies, she'd never imagined her adoptive
father's cock before, but there it was, bulging fat and stiff as it pumped in and out of Rosa's mouth right before Maya's very eyes. From where she crouched outside the door she had the perfect view of the action. Her hand stiffened atop her thigh, sliding softly along the length as it crawled toward the hem of her school uniform skirt. She opened her legs a little wider, careful not to rock back on her heels, and slipped her hand
between her thighs. The cotton crotch of her panties was damp with desire, and as her knuckles brushed the tight, sensitive nub of her clit Maya shuddered as waves of want rippled through her. And as she slid her fingers between the elastic, the thin, slick folds of her tight, virgin pussy surprised her. She'd never been that wet before, not even after making herself cum, but something about watching her daddy's cock plunge in
and out of Rosa's mouth made Maya feel like she was going to explode and she'd barely even touched herself. She had to get off, had to feel the skillful slip and tickle of her index finger fluttering over her pulsing button, but if Hugh caught her outside the door, there was no telling what he'd do. He might never understand, never forgive her. Maya tugged her hand out of her panties and rocked back on her
heels to push herself upright. In the maneuver she lost her balance and tumbled backward with a thud that felt like it shook the whole house. Shock and fear trembled through her and she listened for a moment to hear if Hugh had heard. He must have heard, had to… but as Maya pushed herself upright peeked through the crack in the door again, Hugh was still rocking his hips and fucking the maid as soft grunts of pleasure escaped him.
Relieved that he hadn't caught her, Maya allowed herself one more minute to memorize the visual before her. She would call it to mind while fingering her little pussy and the orgasm it would bring on would be mind blowing, she just knew it. She didn't hear the alarming creak of the floorboard as she backed away from the door and headed down the hallway to her bedroom, but Hugh did. The grind
of his hips stopped in mid-pump, his fat cock buried so deep in Rosa's mouth a trickle of drool dripped from the corner of her mouth. "Shh," he hissed. "What was that?" Rosa couldn't answer with his dick in her mouth, but she garbled an alarmed response, her big brown eyes wide with fear and worry. "I said shut up," Hugh whispered, backing out of her
mouth and tilting his head to listen. Surely he'd heard footsteps, but there was no way Elaine was home from work already. Even if she was deathly ill, she'd tough it out, but Maya could be home early from school. He glanced down at his watch; it was 12:49 in the afternoon. Was there some kind of holiday he'd missed? Had some emergency sent the kids home early from school? "Go home, Rosa," he said, his
voice still quiet, but tight with trepidation. He and Elaine had been fighting something awful lately, the last thing he needed was her catching him with his dick in the maid's mouth. "But Mr. Barton, I still have work…" "You'll get paid for the whole day," he assured her. "Come back tomorrow." Rosa's wide eyes didn't flash
understanding, and after a few moments of her staring almost incomprehensibly, he reinforced his order. "Go home, Rosa! Now." She scampered to her feet and scurried from the room. Alone in the study, his cock had grown almost instantly limp, and now dangled between the teeth of his open zipper, waiting for him to put it away and zip up. He stuffed himself back into his shorts, closed his pants and crept quietly through
the house to find out who was home and how much they'd seen. If it was Elaine, she'd never forgive him. She was probably on the phone with her lawyer downstairs having the divorce papers drawn up as he tip-toed through the house. Maya, on the other hand, could be easily swayed to silence with tickets to an ice show, or in the extreme, a new car. Maya was easy to placate, and she had to hear the constant bickering
through the walls at night. If she'd seen anything, he could make her understand, make her promise to keep his secret, no matter what it took. The door to Maya's bedroom was open just a crack. The light was on and he could hear the thrumming beat of her favorite band crawling into the hallway as he approached. Hugh took a deep breath and steadied one hand on the molding while curling the other around the
knob to push the door open. He'd only widened the crack about an inch when he saw her on the bed. Maya's clean white panties hung around one bare ankle, the plaid of her skirt nestled beneath her bare ass and her long, tan legs were spread wide open, revealing the slippery, wet slit of her tight little cunt. Neatly trimmed black hair circled the hole, which quickly disappeared and reappeared behind the fast-flickering stroke of her
curled index finger. Hugh's limp cock instantly grew hard again inside his pants, bulging against the fabric holding it back and the guilt mingled with desire. He couldn't lie to himself. As he'd watched Maya grow into the exotic and beautiful young woman she'd become, he'd definitely noticed her in a most inappropriate way. The soft mounds of her perky breasts held tight beneath the white button-down shirt of her school
uniform, the long stretch of her muscular legs that led to the forbidden fruit nestled between her untouchable thighs. The fruit Hugh was salivating over as he watched her arch her back to probe her fingers down the length of her snatch before dipping into the small, open hole just begging to be stretched and filled. His hand immediately clenched around the aching rod bulging through his pants, fingers curling
through the fabric to stroke as he watched her. Just under the current of music pouring from the speakers, he could hear her soft utterances, delicious moans of pleasure and delight. Had she seen him? The notion only poured gasoline on an already burning fire, and Hugh's cock grew harder than it had ever been as he imagined Maya was masturbating because she'd spied him pumping his dick in and out of Rosa's drooling mouth.
Maya's finger flicked faster, nothing more than a blur of movement as it slipped and stroked across the hard nub of her clit. The song ended, and in the silence that followed her sweet exhale echoed in his ears. "Oh, Daddy," she whispered. "Lick me, Daddy. Lick my pussy, lick it! Yes, lick me." Hugh's cock nearly erupted, and he stopped stroking to hold himself back. The little girl he used to stroll through the zoo telling knock-
knock jokes with was fingering herself and imagining he was eating her pussy. Jesus Christ! It was unbelievable and so wrong, and yet she wasn't his flesh and blood, so was it really wrong? The thought alone of running his tongue through those tight, glistening folds nearly made him explode again, and as he imagined what virgin cunt tasted like, Hugh's tongue glided across his lower lip in hopeful anticipation.
Elaine hadn't put out in years. Using the excuse of a headache or just plain exhaustion, she pushed him away every night and so he'd found other ways to get off and eventually he'd stopped trying to have sex with her at all. Every time he stuck his cock in another woman's mouth or cunt, he imagined how much it would destroy his wife to know how far she'd pushed him, and it was that thought that drove him into ecstasy every single time. Now, as he stood
listening to the little girl he'd raised with Elaine fingering her slit and begging him to eat her out, he imagined Elaine going absolutely insane if she ever found out and that only made Hugh want to do it more. He gently pushed the door open, almost hoping it would creak on the hinges to let her know he was there, but it didn't, and as the next song on her playlist filled the room with sound, Maya continued to writhe
and stroke, oblivious to presence in the room. approached the bed, the fall of shadow not even distracting from her task.
his He his her
Hugh lowered himself onto his knees at the edge of the bed and for a long time he just watched her finger herself. Was she a virgin, he wondered, inspecting the way she avoided pushing her fingers too far into her own hole? Elaine kept her on such tight lockdown, he couldn't
imagine she'd actually found time to lose her virginity, and if she was still untainted the forbidden thrill of popping that cherry himself only made his throbbing erection ache more. When he could no longer take just kneeling there watching, Hugh reached out with both hands, grasped Maya's thighs and slid her startled body toward the end of the bed. Before she could tighten in protest and pull away, he buried his
face in her sweet, young pussy and gave her exactly what she'd been begging for. At first Maya didn't even know what happened. Fear startled her body rigid, but before she could squirm away a soft, wet mouth disappeared into the folds of her quivering cunt as a stiff, probing tongue pushed deep into her aching hole before gliding upward to dance across the throbbing, hard button of her clit. His warm lip closed around
it, sucking and nibbling and Maya's whole body responded to the most delicious sensation she'd ever felt. She'd fantasized having her pussy eaten before, spitting on her own fingertip before tickling and circling around her cunt, but that fantasy was nothing like the intense reality of an actual mouth. She was on fire, the forbidden nature of what was actually happening to her heightening her senses and spurring her dangerously close to
cumming all over her father's face. What was he doing? Why was he eating her pussy? Had he heard her sneak away, followed and caught the naughty, uttering plea for him to lick her cunt? As Maya tried to make sense of it, she realized it was impossible to concentrate with Daddy's tongue slipping and circling, his lips sucking and kissing her clit, and then his tight, thick fingertip probed and pushed into her hole.
She cried out so loud, the sound of her voice scared her, but Daddy didn't seem to mind. He drew her in even closer, his face lost between her legs until all she could see when she lifted her head to look at him was his sharp, black widow's peak bouncing up and down as he devoured her. Just looking up at him, realizing what was going on… who it was down there giving her pussy its very first tongue lashing, made Maya lose control and intense waves of the most earth shattering
orgasm she'd ever had pulsed through her body like shocks of electricity. She writhed and wiggled, pushing her cunt deeper into his face and ignoring the pinch of pain as his finger pushed further into her virgin hole. "Daddy," she whispered and the sound of that one word leaving her lips spurred another intense release of tightly clenched and aching muscles as the orgasm ripped through her small body. "Oh,
Daddy." Hugh lifted his face away from her snatch, and Maya couldn't believe how wet and shiny it was with the cream of her cum. He licked his lips and started to push away, and for a moment she was afraid he'd come to his senses, but when he stood up she saw the bulging erection tenting the fabric of his pants. She watched as he unbuttoned and unzipped his pants and slid them down over his hips.
The big cock she'd seen him push in and out of the maid's mouth earlier bounced free from its confines, the thick shaft slightly curved as it stretched out to greet her. Was he going to fuck her with it? Was she finally going to lose her virginity, or would he just make her suck him off the same way he'd done to Rosa? Hugh kicked his pants off onto the floor and climbed up onto the bed between her thighs. Resting his
hands on her bent knees, he spread her legs wide and gazed down at the skirt folding in plaid ripples around her waist. She was just a school girl, and from the tight clench of her hole around his finger, Hugh was pretty sure she was still a virgin. He'd been with a lot of women in the years since Elaine had sexually shut him out, but he hadn't fucked a virgin since he'd been in college more than twenty-two years earlier. The memory of that tightly clenched space gripping his cock
made his muscle leap and the head of his dick slapped gently at his stomach, leaving a damp splatter of pre-cum in its wake. Maya was sopping wet, and he'd need no extra lubrication to get inside her waiting twat, even if she was still a virgin. He looked down the bed at her, into her eyes and saw their hazel depths gleaming with trepidation and desire. She wanted him, wanted him inside her. He'd already crossed the threshold
of wrong; there was no turning back for either of them now. Hugh slid his hands down the length of her thighs, tight fingers squeezing the flesh until he arrived at the gateway to forbidden pleasure. With one hand he leaned down atop her, hovering above and looking deep into her eyes, while he tightened his other hand around his shaft and glided the aching mushroom of his cock through the gushing folds of her untouched
pussy. He pushed the head inside her tight opening, lingering there as he regarded her face. She'd pursed her lips together and scrunched her nose in anticipation of the pain she knew was sure to follow. "This'll only hurt for a minute," he promised, and waited until she answered with a quick, anxious nod. Hugh lowered himself inside her, pushing slow, but hard as his thick cock struggled through the constricted confines of her pussy
until he felt his head brush the thin piece of skin that confirmed his suspicion of her virginity. With a heavy thrust of his hips, he broke through her hymen and delighted in her strangled cry of pain that echoed in his ears. He crushed her petite body beneath his and relished in the tight squeeze of her thighs around his hips as he lingered unmoving for a moment within the breached walls of her cunt. Then he drew himself
back slow, listening to her draw an aching breath through clenched teeth as her unaccustomed muscles stretched to accommodate his size. He pumped back into her again, slowly grinding himself in and out until she loosened enough for him to pick up the pace. Maya was in a state of delightful agony, unmoving beneath him even though she knew she was supposed to rise up to meet his thrusts. His promise that it would only hurt for
a minute proved untrue, but despite the pain Maya didn't want him to stop fucking her. She was still horny, still worked up by the forbidden nature of what they were doing, not to mention the incredible orgasm he'd given her with his tongue. With his chest pressing down hard on hers as he ground his meaty length in and out of her stretched and aching cunt, Maya could smell the musty scent of her
cum on his face. She knew how she tasted. She'd suck the slippery offering from her own fingers enough times to know he'd gotten an unforgettable mouthful of delicious cream. She'd never tasted a man's cum before though, and even though she never wanted him to pull his big cock out of her, when he was ready to cum maybe she would ask him to shoot his load into her face so she could devour his offering. Until then, she would have to grit her teeth and pray that
her tight cunt loosened enough for her to feel pleasure too. She couldn't believe she was fucking the only man she'd ever called Daddy. It was wrong, so wrong, but it felt so right that she was giving him the one part of herself she'd been saving for the right man: her virginity. And as he lifted his head to look down at her again, Maya saw a fire burning in his dark blue eyes, a fire unlike any she'd ever seen in him before.
"Do I feel good?" she asked him. Hugh grunted, the soft sound of her voice intensifying the pulsing build-up throbbing in his balls. "You're so tight," he said, slamming his cock into her depths again. Maya responded by lifting herself to meet his thrust. "Is it good to be tight?" "Oh yeah," he panted, burying his face in the crook of her neck, hungry lips tasting the sweat that
painted her flesh. "Tight is good," he whispered. "Very good." She squeezed the muscles in her twat tighter around him; Hugh could feel it, and he knew he was too worked up to hold back much longer, especially since he'd been so close to spraying the back of Rosa's throat with his white, hot seed. He couldn't remember ever having been squeezed so tight before, and it was almost more than he could take. She loosened her grip,
allowing him to back out and then dive back through her glorious depths again. He slammed in deep and hard, banging her until she cried and begged him to fuck her even harder. "Fuck me," she said. Hugh had heard those words hundreds of times in his life, but they'd never sounded sweeter than they did as they passed through Maya's soft lips. Hugh crushed those lips with his own, opening his mouth into
her gasping kiss and sweeping his tongue down to dance with hers. "Fuck me, Daddy," she pleaded again. "Fuck me hard." Hugh punched his cock in and out of his little girl, delighting in the way she rocked up to meet and devour him inside her cunt. The fact that she'd called him Daddy on purpose only spurred him closer to an electric explosion that was sure to empty every drop of cum built up in his bulging ball sack. He was no
teenage boy; he wasn't ready to cum yet. Not after he'd only just pushed his way between her thighs for the first time. He wanted to make it last, to never forget the forbidden act he'd given in to in order to spite that nasty bitch he'd called his wife for the last fifteen years. Not that he ever wanted Elaine to find out he'd fucked their daughter, but the thought of her walking in and catching him buried sack-deep inside Maya only intensified his need to let go.
"I'm gonna cum," he told her, lifting himself up to look into her eyes again. Maya nodded eagerly, he angelic face lighting up at the prospect. "Cum in my face," she pleaded. "I want to eat your jiz." Those words pushed him over the edge, and unable to hold back anymore Hugh pulled out of the welcomed tightness of her forbidden pussy and gripped the shaft of his cock in his hand. He
pumped his fist up and down the length and she rose up onto her elbows to give him the perfect target to paint with the hot ropes of thick, white cum about to blow from the head of his cock. She reached out and closed her fingers around his, helping him stroke himself to a convulsing orgasm that shot his load all over her shirt and face. Maya opened her mouth and moved into the direct line of fire,
excitedly catching the last long spurt of creamy jiz on her tongue before closing her mouth to taste it before swallowing. The cum was thick and sticky, salty and almost bitter on her tongue. She gulped it down before wiping it from her face and licking her fingers clean. Hugh couldn't believe how readily she ate his cum, and as a satisfied grin rose to meet his lip, he sighed contentedly and shook his head. For a moment the two of
them just posed there in the bed, taking in the act they'd just endeavored into. There was nothing in the world more forbidden, save for actual incest, but didn't the fact that she wasn't really his daughter, that she'd invited him into her bed make what they'd done okay? Neither of them moved until the ringing of the telephone on the table in the hallway started to ring. It rang two, three and then four times before Hugh climbed off of
the bed and pulled into his boxer shorts. Maya watched him shuffle out of her room, laying back with a blissful sigh she refused to allow guilt to destroy. She heard his voice when he picked up the phone, but couldn't make out the words he was saying. Several minutes later he hung up the phone and Maya listened to the soft pad of his eager footsteps on the hardwood floor as he stalked back to her bedroom. "That was your mom," he said,
leaning against the doorframe. "She's working late again," he added, a devilish grin lifting at the corner of his mouth. "We're on our own for dinner tonight." "And for the rest of the afternoon…" Daddy's naughty little angel lifted her eyebrows and patted the mattress beside her as she scooted over to make room for him in the bed. Hugh didn't think twice, but entered her bedroom for the second
time that day, fully intent on claiming her tight little pussy and making it his own private playground.
DADDY'S LIL DEVIL
Camille tried to be a good girl. For the most part anyway. She didn't party the way a lot of her friends did and she certainly didn't sneak under the bleachers at the football games to let Dave Saunders feel her up like half the other girls at school. It wasn't that she wasn't interested in sex. Sometimes late at night she laid in bed, curious hands beneath her quilt touching and
caressing herself as she imagined Dave Saunders' fast fingers teaching her body lessons unlike any she'd ever learned before, but it never went beyond the fantasy. She wouldn't dare even consider it because her step-father Ted was a strict Baptist minister, and he'd put the fear of God in her long before he'd married Camille's mother. More often than not when she was exploring the dirty, secret parts of her body and thinking about
Dave Saunders, her naughty and unclean mind flashed to images of Ted standing in front of the congregation on Sunday morning. Face beaded with sweat, his gaunt cheeks red with the lord's fire as he preached of sin and eternal damnation, it was a sight that never failed to inspire her. Mouth open wide as he joined the choir in praise, the golden blond locks of his carefully cropped hair shined around his head like a halo and Camille knew it was a sin, but it was
Ted she thought about the first time she tickled her clit until hot waves of the most intense pleasure rippled through her body from head to toe. And every night after that first glorious, self-induced orgasm, Camille couldn't even look Ted in the eye at the dinner table. She would wait until he bowed his head in prayer, expecting that everyone else at the table had done the same, and then she'd lift her gaze across the pot roast and mashed potatoes
to admire him. The only Daddy she'd ever known, the man who'd saved her mother from a life of sin by plucking her up out of the gutters and making an honest woman of her. But there was no saving Camille, or so Ted was fond of reminding her. Born out of wedlock, she was a child of the devil and he swore up and down that not even being as strict as a military sergeant with her would wrench Camille from Satan's
grasp. She tried to be good. Tried with all her might, but nothing she ever did was good enough for Ted. He set up a strict regimen she was expected to follow, and when she broke the rules he would punish her with his belt, lashing her twenty times and leaving thick red welts and stinging bruises along the backs of her thighs and across her backside. He
always
asked
the
same
question as his shadow lingered in the door, belt hanging slack in his hand, and eyes glistening with some twisted sense of satisfaction that Camille often recalled when she was touching herself. "Why do you make me punish you, Camille?" Camille never answered him, except for the steady hiccupping sobs that wracked her chest. She didn't know why she made him punish her, at least not until she was older and the fantasies that
burned in her memory while she masturbated began to center around the wicked lash of his belt across her bare skin. She liked to be punished. She loved being bad, and there was even a twisted part of her that fantasized about one day turning the tables on Ted and giving him a taste of his own medicine. She'd picture him tied to the bedposts naked, arms and legs spread wide and body trembling as she poised above him with his own belt swinging from her hand.
"Why do you make me punish you, Ted?" Imaginary Camille would ask before whipping the belt through the air and delighting in the sweet slap of leather on his glistening white skin. It was a fool's dream, and she knew it, but it didn't stop her from dreaming it. Even as the fantasy grew more twisted and wicked, it brought her more joy than she could have ever dreamed and the year she turned eighteen Camille
began to look for ways to make Ted angry on purpose just to invoke his wrath so she could endure his punishment. Several times after he'd doled out her dues and locked her in her bedroom to think long and hard about a fiery eternity in the pits of hell, Camille heard her meek and mousey mother ask from the end of the hallway, "Don't you think she's getting too old to be spanked, Ted? She's eighteen years old now…"
"Eighteen and on the fast track to hell," Ted reminded her. "I know what I'm doing. I'll make a Godfearing good girl out of her yet. Trust me, Myra." Obviously she did trust him because she never stepped in, never dared to raise a hand to protect her own daughter from Ted's belt, but Camille didn't care anymore. She was going to get Ted back, teach him a lesson. She would fight fire with fire, even if they both burned.
On the morning that all hell broke loose Camille hid Ted's briefcase after her mother left for work. Alone in the house with her stepfather, she stepped out of the shower in nothing but a towel and left the bathroom door hanging wide open, knowing it would only be a matter of time before he barged down the hallway in search of his missing briefcase. Sure enough she heard the sound of his shoes marching down
the hall, and she lifted her bare leg up on the sink to slather lotion down the length. The smooth curve of her tight little ass peeked out from under the small towel she'd wrapped around her body. At first Ted stalked past the bathroom without stopping, but he must have caught sight of her pink, naked flesh from the corner of his eye because he stepped backward and appeared in the doorway, one eyebrow cocked over a disapproving green eye.
"What in the name of God are you doing, Camille?" he barked, his hand lifting to rest on the frame of the door. It was funny, she thought. What she was doing had nothing to do with God, and it certainly wasn't in His name. Despite the indignation in his scolding tone, Ted's eyes lingered for a moment on the luscious cheek of her ass peeking out from under the towel before traveling the length of her propped,
bent leg. "Putting on lotion, Daddy." She laughed and tossed her damp golden locks over her shoulder as if his question was the most absurd thing she'd ever heard. "Gotta keep my skin all smooth and soft so I don't wind up a wrinkled old hag." She glanced over her shoulder at him, making eye contact when he finally lifted his gaze away from her bare leg. He swallowed hard, his Adam's apple jutting up beneath his
chin before he opened his mouth to speak. He closed his mouth again, speechless, which made her giggle as she rolled the creamy lotion down over her thigh and knee before rubbing it gently into her calve. "You…" he stammered. "The door… Damn it, Camille! I've told you a thousand times. It's perfectly indecent for a girl your age to run around the house half-naked." She widened her big blue eyes
innocently and asked, "But why, Daddy? Does looking at me make you feel ashamed?" She lifted her leg off the sink and lowered it to the floor as she turned toward him. "Does it make you want to see more of me than just my legs?" She took a step toward the door, her fingers working at the loosely tucked top of the towel until it fell free around her ankles and she stood naked as the day she was born. Ted
swallowed
again,
and
Camille watched droplets of nervous sweat bead on his forehead when she took another step toward him. She watched his face, the strange mix of shock mingled with desire; a look she'd seen in his eyes every time he'd lingered in her doorway after doling out a much needed belt-whipping. "Go to your room, Camille." The usual confidence he harbored wavered, his voice catching in the back of his throat as he stepped
aside from the door to allow her room to pass through it. "Go to your room and wait for me to bring my belt." She mocked surprise and pouted, feigning hurt and disbelief, but under the surface she was smug and burning with that twisted desire. "But Daddy, why? I didn't do anything wrong." "You've been doing everything wrong your whole life, and now you're just brimming with the
devil's malice," he said. "Filled with his evil, you dare to tempt me with sins of the flesh." "Are you going to use your belt on me?" She hoped Ted heard the underlying current of lust in her voice when she said those words. "Go, Camille! And for Pete's sake, cover yourself!" But she didn't cover herself. Instead she left the damp towel she'd used to dry herself off lying in
a heap on the bathroom floor and walked past Ted completely naked. She paused for just a minute as she passed through the door and met with his gaze. She tried to understand the mixture of twisted emotion she saw inside his wide green eyes, but they were tempered with something darker than she'd ever seen before. He didn't follow her down the hallway, at least not right away, so when Camille arrived at her
bedroom she left the door open and sat down patiently on the edge of her freshly made bed. She spread her legs just a little as she leaned back on the comforter and listened for the sound of his footsteps. It would give him the perfect view of her smooth, shaved pussy lips when he finally appeared in the door, a sight she hoped would make him salivate. Several minutes passed before she heard the hard heel of his shoes
on the floorboards and growing closer to her room with every step. She saw his shadow first, as he paused to the right of the door, and then what she thought was the flash of brown leather as he lowered his hand to his side. Ted stepped into the door frame, and she didn't know if he'd expected her to put clothes in, but the shock on his face seemed to suggest that he had. He swallowed again, his eyes centered on the sweet candy between her thin legs, and then he
entered the bedroom. "The fire of hell is in your blood, Camille." He'd said this to her before. In fact, it was a favorite line of his in the moments just before he bent her over the bed and surveyed her ass for the perfect strike point. "You're a child of the devil." In the past those words would have made her feel terrible inside, surely part of Ted's plan. A meek and compliant woman was a God-
fearing woman, and until that point Camille had always done her best to comply, but it was never enough for him. No matter how hard she tried to be good, it was never enough, so maybe it was time to give into the devil's prodding and embrace the wickedness burning inside her to get out. "I am a child of the devil," she said, lifting her defiant eyes to his and marveling at the flickering fear that danced inside him. "Satan
burns and aches inside me, Daddy. Stoking the fires of hell in my soul." She positioned her arms behind her and leaned back further on the bed, spreading her legs wide so he could see just how hot the fire of hell was. For a moment Ted's eyes lingered on her sweet, bald snatch, terror mingling with desire, and Camille tried to imagine what was going through his mind. He surprised her by stalking toward the bed and grabbing her by the wrist.
He yanked her up off the mattress in a deft move that, had he not been holding on tight, would have sent her reeling across the room. He sat down in the place she'd been and did something he'd never done before. He bent her naked body across his lap, her perky breasts dangling over one thigh and her legs hanging over the other. She wriggled a little at the uncomfortable position, and the movement of her body stirred something inside his pants.
His dick was hard. His straining erection jutted out of his pants and pushed into the side of her chest through the fabric of his trousers, and Camille glanced back over her shoulder at him in surprise. As if he couldn't bear the thought of her acknowledgement, Ted raised his hand in the air, fingers straight together and palm cupped, and brought it down so fast she didn't even have time to prepare for the stinging slap of flesh on her ass.
Her cheeks instinctively clenched together as hot pain seared her skin, the nerves just below the surface tingling and burning. She didn't have time to explore the feeling because he brought his hand down again and again, whack, whack, whacking as she writhed and bucked beneath every blow. Teeth clenched tight in rage, Ted spanked her over and over, every smack harder than the last. She felt
the rigid leap of his restrained cock inside his pants respond to each hit, as if the fire of hell inside her had spread into the wicked tool in his pants. And though the constant pain made her feel weak, she didn't cry out and she closed her eyes tight against the stinging tears that threatened to drip down her cheeks. "I've failed with you." Ted's jaw clamped so tight flecks of hot spittle flew from his lips when he spoke and landed on her back. "Lord
Jesus, how I've failed." His voice cracked, and his hand lowered to rest on her ass cheek. Camille thought he was going to cry. "I brought the devil into my home," he muttered. "Allowed him to rest in my heart and burn in my loins." Camille didn't allow her rigid body to relax, even though he'd stop hitting her. She remained tense, anticipating the next round of punishment, but it never came. Instead the hand he'd laid down on
her ass smoothed across the tingling pain. Circling around her cheek in soothing motions, she stared at the floor and tried to imagine what he was thinking. His hand traveled over the curve of her ass, lingered for a moment between the crack and then tickled between the backs of her thighs as he pried them apart and brushed his fingertips across the swollen lips of her virgin cunt. Hot waves of excitement shuddered through her
as the hard tip of his finger brushed through her wet folds, traveling upward to press and wriggle around the aching nub of her clit. He pinched and rolled it between his fingers, invoking an almost painful sensation that pleaded to be satisfied with further stimulation. Even though she'd fantasized about Ted's fingers stroking her clit at least a hundred times, the reality far surpassed the daydream. When Camille masturbated, she was
gentle and soft, but Ted's fingers were cruel and teasing as they mingled sensations of pleasure with pain. Jerking and squeezing her nub in his fingers, she felt her body respond until they'd created a twisted sense of rhythm. She writhed against his unrelenting fingers, delighting in the delicious mixture of agony and ecstasy, and when she felt the pull of her stomach muscles tingling with the first sign of orgasm, she cried out for the first time since he'd laid her
over his knees. Her body rippled and undulated as she came, and Ted continued to pinch and rub her clit even after the shuddering waves began to dissipate and the longing for something to fill her aching pussy took over. Ted responded instinctively, his fingers rolling up through her slit until they lingered outside her tight, unbroken hole. Not even Camille had stuck her fingers inside herself, for fear of the pain all her friends
swore came with losing their virginity, but Ted didn't hesitate. His curious finger probed through the folds of damp flesh, circled around her hole until it was slick with the juice of her orgasm and then he cruelly jammed not one, but two wide fingers into her clenched virgin pussy. Camille writhed and squirmed, part of her wanting him to take his fingers out of her, but the other part longed to feel them push even
deeper, or better yet, to feel the rigid monster she felt poking through his pants battering its way inside her body. "How many times has the devil been inside you, Camille?" His teeth were still clenched, flecks of spit cooling her skin when he spoke in that violent tone. "Never." The sound of her own whimper surprised her. "Liar!" He rammed his fingers
harder and she cried out in sweet pain. "You are the devil's whore," he said, punching them in deeper and spreading the two fingers apart inside her to stretch her tight walls wider. And then he pulled them out, examining the sticky fluid that coated them in the morning sunlight shining through her bedroom window before he gripped her hips in both hands and lifted her up off of him. He threw her body face down on
the bed, ass jutting up over the edge as he stood and positioned himself behind her. He bent down and spread her legs so wide the muscles in her thighs stretched and burned. She heard the buckle of his belt jingle as he loosed it, and buried her face in the comforter. Excited tears burned her eyes, dampening the fabric beneath her, as she braced herself for the fiery force of his belt, but the sound that followed was not the soft sluice of leather through belt loops. It was the lowering of his
zipper, fabric rushing against skin as he dropped his pants to the floor and lowered his weight onto her from behind. His knees bent into hers, hairy thighs smooshing the backs of her legs and the soft, moist head of his rock hard cock brushing through the crack of her ass as he crushed her underneath him. He only lifted away enough to grab his rod in his hand and glide the tip down through her ass in search of the
dripping wet pussy hole begging to be filled. He circled it around her sopping slit, pushing and prodding at the tight virgin cunt beneath him, but the angle of her ass wouldn't allow him to penetrate her. Ted let go of his shaft and tightly gripped her hips in both hands, jerking her body upward to grant him access. Holding her in position with one hand, he gripped his dick in the other and once again moistened the head by swirling it
around the cum that had dripped out of her pussy after she'd orgasmed all over his fingers. Once he was slicked and coated in her juices, he pushed the hard, swollen mushroom of his head into her cunt and tried to ram himself deep inside her. Her virginity still intact, the clenched and nervous muscles made it impossible for him to batter his way into her pussy, but that didn't stop him from trying. Camille
through the thick girth of his fat cock would split her in half if he pushed any harder, but she didn't dare protest. After all, this was exactly what she'd wanted all along; he'd made sure of that every time he'd taken his belt to her and promised her that one day she'd get what she really deserved. The stretching agony burned and tingled like fire in her snatch, and with hard jerks and thrusts Ted continued to pry her tight cunt
apart with his cock until with one heavy pound he tore her hymen and rammed himself balls deep into her hole. Camille finally did cry out then, the agonizing bliss of finally knowing what it really felt like to have the devil inside her making the pain of losing her virginity feel divine. "Daddy," she whimpered as he began to withdraw. A part of her was afraid that he'd come to his senses and was about to pull out of
her, but when she cried out the word, "Daddy," again, Ted pounded back into her with a force that made her entire body tremble. There was nothing gentle about his thrusts. She was the fiery anvil of hell and his cock the devil's hammer, molding and shaping her to his evil will and evil had never felt so good. He bucked and writhed, his weight crushing her as he pounded and pulsed, his sweat coating her body. He grunted and
moaned, quickening the pace and squeezing her small hips so tight she thought for sure they would shatter in his grasp. Masturbation had never felt as good as the painful grind of his meaty shaft in and out of her aching walls, and for the first time she knew now what it was to truly have the devil in her. Ted was no man of God. He was the devil and she was his whore, whimpering and crying sweet bliss under the fiery hot slam
of his sinful cock. One day they would both burn in hell, but she didn't care. The glide and punch of him in and out of her felt like heaven, so how could it be wrong. She wanted him inside her forever, to feel the stroke of his fat head and thick length ripping through her walls until he pounded and purged the sin from her body, but his rhythm grew sporadic, his body tensing and tightening until Camille knew her revenge was
about to come to a sticky sweet end. His grip pinched her skin so tight, she wailed and when he pulled his cock out of her she muffled her cry of protest in the quilt beneath her. A hot spray of wet fire spurted out to coat her sweaty back and then another and another until Ted's knees finally stopped jerking into the backs of her thighs and she felt the fire cool and drip down the skin of her back. He backed away from her, his
footsteps stumbling across the hardwood floor, belt buckle ringing like a church bell in Camille's ears. She didn't dare move, couldn't bring herself to lift her face from the bed as she listened to him slide his pants up the length of his trembling legs. He zipped himself back inside them, but didn't buckle his belt. Instead he turned toward the door, and Camille snuck a peek over her shoulder to watch his shadow slip into the hallway.
He didn't shut the door, and she listened to his footsteps fade down the hallway until he reached the top of the stairs. Then it was silent, save for the huff of her own breath and the hammer of her heart inside her eardrums. Moments later she heard the distant sound of his voice. "Hello, Alison, this is Pastor Morrison. I know it's late, but I haven't been feeling well this morning. I wanted to call to let you know I won't be in today." He was
quiet for a second and then added, "I'm sure it's nothing, just a flu bug. Thank you, Alison. I appreciate your prayers." The phone clunked back into the cradle and his footsteps echoed on the floor again, crawling closer to her bedroom. She was still watching the door, not sure what to expect, and when he appeared in the doorway a shiver of fear mingled with anticipation as he stepped back into her room. Once inside, he closed the door
behind him and walked toward the bed. "I'll help you, Camille," he said, sitting softly on the edge of the bed and resting a hand on her thigh for a moment before allowing it to travel up to softly caress the curve of her ass cheek. "Together we'll get the devil out of you yet." Camille felt the corners of her mouth lift into a devious grin. If the only way to get the devil out was to first let him in, she'd just have to
suffer the wrath of God and take her punishment.
DANCE FOR DADDY
Buffy McKitrick… with a name like that I was bound to wind up in the porn industry. At least that's what my step-dad Dean used to say all the time when my mom wasn't in the room. I always figured he was just a dirty little pervert, imagining me naked every chance he got, and while I won't deny I definitely did my fair share of teasing in high school, I certainly never planned to go any further than a little ass wiggle now and then to entice him.
Dean wasn't a bad looking guy, but once he and my mom split the year I was a senior in high school, I figured I'd never even see him again even though he was the only father figure I'd ever really known. Boy was I wrong. My freshman year at NYU I was seriously hard up for cash. Mom could barely afford to pay my tuition, even though she made too much money for me to get financial aid. Commuting two hours every
day was out of the question, so I needed to get a job if I wanted to be able to stay in the Village. Long story short, I started out working for minimum wage at the Burger Bunny. If you've ever lived in Manhattan, you know minimum wage just doesn't cut it, and midway through my first semester I was working full-time on top of an eighteen credit course schedule. Not fun! While all my friends were out partying and actually
enjoying their college years, I was elbow deep in fryer grease and crying myself to sleep at night. It wasn't fair, but what was I supposed to do? A girl's gotta eat. And then my roommate Shaz introduced me to her friend Misty. Not only was Misty drop-dead gorgeous, but she was always loaded with cash. If we went to lunch, she paid, and once I saw her tip the pizza delivery guy $23 on a $17 order. She was in the same
situation I was in, paying her own way in order to stay in Manhattan, but instead of working six or seven nights a week, Misty only worked two: Friday and Saturday night. She had the rest of the week to focus on classes and her social life. I couldn't believe it. "How?" I remarked. "I mean seriously… where can I sign up for that job?" Misty leveled a gaze at Shaz and then returned her eyes to me.
"You're cute enough," she said. "You could probably get hired no problem, but I don't think you could do it." I felt my brow knit in disbelief. What was she doing, working for the mob? "Oh come on," I reached out for her arm. "How bad could it be?" "It's not bad at all," Misty shrugged. "But you seem like a bit of a good girl."
I swallowed the bitter lump that rose in my throat and prepared to start pulling hair. Obviously Misty knew nothing about me. "Who are you calling a good girl? Come on, what is it? I want in. You don't understand how bad I need this, Misty. I'm killing myself at Burger Bunny." Misty offered a sympathetic smile and reached out to touch my arm. "How secure are you with your body?"
What kind of question was that? "I don't know," I shrugged. "I've always liked it." "So if I told you to strip down right now and dance around in nothing but your panties, you wouldn't have a problem doing it?" "Umm…" The lump in my throat was back. "I guess not." "You guess not?" She smirked. "You need to be one hundred percent sure you wouldn't have a
problem with it for this job. Buffy, I'm a stripper." My mouth must have dropped down to my tits. "A stripper?" I finally said. "No fucking way!" "Yes fucking way." "How much do you make a night?" "It depends on the night, but usually I make about $500." "Jesus!"
I
choked
on
that
thought. "$500 a night?" I tallied up eight nights a month in my head and nearly fainted at the prospect. That was $4,000 for the month. Even if I worked 8 hours overtime at Burger Bunny, I wouldn't even come close to clearing half that amount for the month. Plus I'd be exhausted and I'd probably wind up flunking out of school. "Sometimes it's more like six or seven hundred," she said. "Just for taking your clothes
off?" I couldn't believe it. It was like a dream come true. "Where do I sign up?' Misty giggled. "I'll tell you what. I am working this Friday. Why don't you come in and check it out. If it really looks like something you could handle, I'll introduce you to Dean. He's always looking for dancers." I didn't think anything of the name. I mean after all there had to be thousands of people in New York
alone by that name. She wrote down the address of the club where she worked and told me to ask for her at the door when I got there. I tucked that slip of paper into my wallet and promised her I'd be there. After Misty left that night I spent hours on the internet doing my homework on stripping when I should have been doing my Psych 101 homework, but if the job was really as good as everyone seemed
to say it was, I'd have plenty of time for actual homework if Misty's boss Dean was interested in hiring me. When I crawled into bed that night I couldn't stop thinking about Misty stripping. I imagined her up on stage in front of me, wrapped around a pole so tight the lips of her spread cunt left smear marks on the metal. In that fantasy I joined her onstage and latched my lips onto her pussy, lapping and tasting her juices as she writhed and bucked under my kisses until she exploded
in my mouth. Beneath the sheets I fingered myself, dipping the tip of my index finger inside to wet it and then gliding it back up to flicker and flutter across my swollen, aching nub as I imagined eating Misty's snatch. The fantasy soon altered to the two of us in a delicious 69, fucking each other's faces until we creamed and creamed and slurped up every last drop of cum that gushed between our quivering
thighs. I'd fantasized about another girl eating me out before, but for some reason that fantasy about Misty made me hotter than I'd ever been, and when hot orgasmic waves shuddered through me, I kept flicking and flicking until I came again and again and again. By the time Friday rolled around, I seriously considered calling off work at Burger Bunny, but I needed the money and I didn't
want to start counting my chickens before they hatched. Dean might not want to hire me at all, and the last thing I needed was to get fired from the grease pit. I got home around nine-thirty Friday night, jumped in the shower and then slid into a tight little miniskirt and spaghetti-strap tank top that really showed off my Double D's. I left my dark, auburn hair loose around my shoulders and added a tasteful touch of makeup.
Leaning in to inspect myself in the mirror, I puckered my lips and blew my reflection a kiss. "Come on, Buff. You need this job!" I said, winking and stepping back to grab my purse off the desk behind me. I took a cab to the address Misty gave me and stepped out onto the sidewalk outside the club. I was surprised at how many men were standing outside in line waiting to get into the building, but as soon as
the burly bouncer saw me walking toward the entrance, he motioned for me to come to the front of the line. "You one of the new girls?" he asked. "Not yet, but I hope to be. Misty told me to come tonight and watch her dance. She's going to introduce me to Dean." "Nice," he slid the rope aside and leaned back to open the door for
me. "I'm Cliff." "Buffy," I smiled pretty and hoped like hell Cliff and Dean were close enough that a good word from the bouncer might go a long way toward helping me. "Misty will probably go on in about fifteen minutes. You'll be better off if you have a seat near the back. I'll let her know you're here." "Thank you." I bounced through the door, making sure I wiggled
what my maker gave me as I walked, another hopeful attempt at Cliff putting in a good word for me. The inside of the club was nothing like I expected. I'm not sure why, but I was fully prepared to walk into some rowdy lion's den with greasy-looking groping guys in dirty wife-beaters practically fucking the dancers right on the tabletops, but for the most part it looked like pretty respectable club. Most of the guys were in business
suits, unwinding after a long week at work as they nursed drinks and fed crisp green bills into their scantily-clad waitresses' g-strings before they walked away from the table. A couple of the guys near the stage were leaning inward, carefully studying the beautiful duo, one blonde and one African American girl coming together in a final move, their lips just a breath apart as the DJ ended the track they'd been dancing to.
The way they'd ended like that was so hot, I felt my stomach tighten—a combination of nerves and excitement—as I realized that could be me. I took a seat near the back like Cliff had told me to do, and watched the men at the front of the stage reward the duo with appreciative whistles and applause, but even better was the steady stream of green they collected before disappearing backstage.
When the lights dimmed onstage I leaned forward in my chair, hoping to get a glimpse of Misty next. As the spotlight centered on her body stretched against the length of the pole at center stage, I drew in an appreciative breath and sat back to enjoy the show. Watching her made me really hot, as memories of my last masturbation fantasy ebbed at the back of my mind. The swirling of her tiny hips, the lift of her leg along the pole as she tucked and
whirled around like a beautiful blonde pinwheel caught in a hurricane gust… Wow. It was so intense I could feel my tummy tighten as that tasty daydream fluttered in the back of my mind. She was amazing, and though I'd never exactly been the most coordinated athlete, I was pretty sure I could do what she was doing with a little practice. The men seemed to like her too, tucking bills into the garter belt around her thigh
every time she sashayed by them, and when she finished performing, both her belt and tiny little g-string panties were overflowing with cash. And that wasn't counting the money she swept up off the floor on her way off the stage. It was about fifteen minutes and two other dancers later before Misty finally approached me from behind and rested a hand on my shoulder when she leaned down. Her touch made me ache even
more, and I had to shake my head to get rid of the dirty daydream playing in my mind. "I was afraid you wouldn't show up," she said. "I told Dean all about you and he's really excited to meet you." "Really?" I glanced back at her and she grinned wide as she nodded. "Yep. Come on. He's in his office." I didn't realize how nervous I
was until I stood up, my ankles trembling with every step I took as I followed her past the bar and down a long hallway to the closed-office at the back. I took a deep breath to calm myself while Misty knocked on the door three times. A voice called out from the other side, "It's open." She pushed open the door and the man sitting at the desk glanced up from the papers scattered in front of him. As soon as our eyes
met, I almost died. What were the odds? "Buffy?" Thick, black eyebrows lifted his forehead over surprised blue eyes. "Well I'll be…" he tsked and shook his head, leaning back in the chair as Misty shoved me into the office with a stiff hand. "Wow," I nodded. "Just… yeah. Wow." "Do you guys already know each other?" Misty asked, glancing
between us. "You could say that," Dean nodded. "I'll tell you what, Misty, why don't you head on back to the dressing room and get ready for your next performance while Buffy and I have a little chat." Misty looked toward me to make sure I was okay with her leaving us alone and I offered a meager nod. "Good luck," she mouthed and then headed back out the door, closing it behind her.
Dean just sat there for what felt like a week staring at me, occasionally shaking his head and lifting those striking blue eyes to my face. "Buffy, Buffy, Buffy," he finally said, rising to stand and gesturing for me to sit in the chair across from his desk. "I always said with a name like yours you'd wind up in porn." I cleared my throat with a nervous laugh. "So this is porn then?" I asked. "I thought it was
just dancing." Dean chuckled and rested his arms on top of the desk as he resumed his chair. "Nah, it's just dancing," he said. "But I'm telling ya, with a name like that… you could go all the way, and you could make way more money doing porn than you'd ever earn onstage." "Yeah, but I could never run for president," I said. He quirked a grin, the corners of
his eyes crinkling into crow's feet as he did. "Is that what brings you here? You wanna be president someday?" "Right now I just want to pay my rent so I can actually focus on school." Nodding, he rested his hand under his chin for a moment and studied me like he used to when I was pretty sure he was picturing me naked. "Can you dance?"
"I don't know," I admitted. I figured if I was going to not get hired by my ex-step-dad, I might as well be completely honest with him. "This is my first attempt at getting hired someplace like this." "I see." His brow fell and the smile started to fade from his lips. "What if I put on a little music and you can dance for me right now," he suggested. "Show me some of your moves and I'll let you know if you've got a future here."
"Really?" I couldn't believe what he was asking me to do. I figured that as soon as he realized it was me coming in for the job, he'd just sent me home again for fear of pissing off my mom, or something. Was he actually considering hiring me? How weird would that be parading around naked on stage in front of the guy my mom had been married to nearly all my life; the man I'd more or less known as my father since I was five years old?
"Sure," he shrugged. "I don't owe that cheating whore you call a mother jack shit, but you never did me any wrong. I'd like to help you out if you've got moves." "Wait," I shook my head. "Mom cheated on you?" She'd certainly left that little nugget out of the details when Dean left. I always thought he'd just taken off and left her the same way my read dad had done, but if what he said was true, I was seeing my mother in a whole
new light. "More times than I can count on both hands," he sighed. "Look, Buffy," he started, "I always thought you were a good kid. I don't hold what she did against you." "Okay," I swallowed. "So…" He shrugged his shoulders up around his ears and then let them drop again. "You gonna show me what you got, or what?"
I smiled and dropped my purse onto the floor beside the chair before standing up. "You gonna play me some music?" Dean's iPod was already connected to the stereo system behind him. For a moment he scrolled through his playlist and then clicked on a song, nodding for me to back with as he pressed play and turned up the volume. I recognized the song right away, the slow, steady drumbeat and sensual
bass guitar nudging me to slide out of my jacket and drop it over my shoulder and onto the chair behind me. The maneuver was simple, but hot, and as I sauntered toward him one long-legged step at a time I could tell that even though I'd barely gotten started I was really turning Dean on. He leaned back in the chair and rested his hands in his lap, watching me writhe and wriggle, spin and slide until I was
just inches away giving him a show he was sure to never forget. I nearly jumped away when he reached out to touch me, smooth hands traveling across my thigh and upward to squeeze my ass. "What about a lap dance for Daddy?" He quirked an eyebrow at me, his dark stare serious, his half-smile playful and oh so naughty. I didn't know what to say, but in my mind I rationalized that if he actually gave me the job there might be
customers that asked for the same. He needed to know I could do it without reservation, so I turned around and shook my ass so close I could almost feel his eager breath rushing out across my skin. I bumped and ground, lifting my leg and squatting seductively down onto his lap and then slowly rolling my hips in teasing circles. I had no idea how sexy it would make me feel, how naughty it would be to hump and glide against his crotch,
and when I realized how hard he was beneath me slow trickles of desire warmed me, tingling in my tummy and aching inside my cunt. Between work and school I hadn't had time to date at all since I'd come to college, and no dating meant no sex. It had been months since I'd had a hot cock inside me, and when Dean's strong hands locked onto my swiveling hips and pushed me down harder into his erection another shock of need
pulsed through my body. I knew it was wrong to even be considering what I was considering, but the forbidden nature of following through with the dirty deed about to transpire just made me want him inside me even more. "You have such a sweet little ass," Dean told me as he slid one of his hands beneath the short, tight confines of my skirt to squeeze my ass cheek. It didn't take long for that hand to wander around to my
waist, down over the thin, silky strip of my panties and in through the side. His stiff, probing finger slid through the moist folds of my aching cunt and I closed my eyes, still circling my hips and bumping down to entice the stiff dick restrained by his pants. When his finger dipped into my wet, hungry pussy a soft moan of encouragement escaped my lips. "Mm," I breathed out that single syllable in slow delight. "Your
fingers feel so good inside me." "Wait until you feel my cock," he said. "So thick and fat as it pushes through that tight little snatch of yours. Oh," he exhaled an exalted sigh. "The way you used to parade around in those boy shorts, shaking your ass in my face like an invitation to an all I could fuck buffet… I've been dying to get inside your little cunt for years." I couldn't believe he'd said that. Even as I continued dropping down
to fuck his stiff finger, I thought of all those dirty jokes he used to make about me having a career in the porn industry. He'd been imagining himself between my spread thighs the entire time, and though I'd never really thought about him that way before, now that I had I wanted his cock inside me more than I'd ever wanted a dick before. He'd let go of my waist to fumble with the zipper on his pants while
still fingering my tight snatch with the other hand. He pushed two fingers into my cunt now, twisting and swirling them in and out of my aching hole and obviously delighting in every soft, mewling moan that fell from my lips. With his hard dick finally free, he started to stroke himself with one hand as he finger-fucked me with the other, pumping those two long, stiff digits deep into my hole and twisting them back out before jamming them in again and again.
I cried out in protest when he drew those fingers out, but my dismay quickly turned to a needful whimper of delight when I felt the fat head of this thick cock slip past my stretched panties to bump around the edges of my twat. I ground down onto his shaft, its thickness spreading my tight walls wide until he was buried balls deep inside me. I felt his cool sack leap up to bump my clit as he punched his hips upward and started sliding in and out.
He was so thick, the thickest cock I'd ever had, that as he stretched through my clenched cunt every stroke was like a wet dream. I found myself quickly meeting his every thrust with eager delight, growing hornier as he started to grunt and buck behind me. There was no time to think about the repercussions of what I was doing, the consequences of my actions, and he felt so good inside me that even if I had had time to
think about all that stuff, it wouldn't have made a difference anyway. When Dean shoved forward and splayed me across his desk, he wrapped my legs around his waist and crushed down hard, pushing my body into the hard wood beneath me. Paperwork fluttered off the desktop and drifted to the floor in a rustle, but Dean didn't seem to care. All that mattered in that moment was his big dick inside me stroking its way closer and closer to explosion.
Even though I wanted to concentrate on how horny I was and how quick my stepdad was going to make me cum if he kept fucking me at the pace he was, my gaze kept moving toward the door across the room. I imagined Misty barging through and catching us, her judgmental eyes growing wide as she stood with her mouth agape watching me get fucked good and hard. I thought about Cliff the hot bouncer busting through the door, his face alight with shock before he
strode across the room to fill my mouth with his cock. What was going on in my head? I'd battered down the taboo walls by letting Dean into my pants, and now I wanted to go even further? And even crazier, I thought about Dean filming the whole thing, me stuffed full of cock from every angle as Misty climbed atop the desk and dropped down to smother me with her sweet, dripping snatch. Good God! Was Dean really right about
me? Was I destined to become some kind of porn star? The possibility of that notion pushed me over the edge and into hot, explosive orgasm, the walls of my cunt shuddering and clenching around my stepdad's thick shaft as my own sweet cream made me even wetter than I was before. "You like that?" Dean snarled, bending over me so that his rough, stubble-coated chin scraped against my sensitive ear. "You like Daddy's
big cock?" He pushed his weight down on me, the hard corner of the desk nearly cutting into my thighs he was fucking me so hard. "Yes," I couldn't lie. I did like his big cock, but even more than that I loved the fantasy of getting paid because I'd let him fuck me when he should have been auditioning me for a job. Daddy's little porn star… that thought spurred me into another quivering round of orgasm so strong it was impossible to stifle
and quiet my cries. "Cum for Daddy again," he pounded me into the desk. "Gush all over Daddy's dick." And just like my overactive imagination had spurred me into a shuddering puddle, so did his words. They were like fluttering devils perched on my shoulder, their forked tongues diving into my sensitive ear to tickle and drive me into naughty, forbidden convulsions so strong I swore I saw burning
stars as my world crumbled to beautiful dust around me. "Call me Daddy," Dean growled into my ear. "Tell Daddy how much you love the way he fucks you." "I love your cock, Daddy!" I whimpered. "You fuck me so hard it hurts." "Oh yeah," he slammed into me so hard his balls made a wet slapping sound against the dripping panties he'd only peeled aside
before battering into me. "You like to get fucked hard. You like fucking your daddy." "Yes, Daddy!" I cried. "Oh yes!" The dirty things Dean was saying to me combined with my whimpered utterances must have made him just as hot, or maybe it was just the fact that he was fucking me, the little girl he'd practically raised as his own for almost twelve years. He started pumping even faster, so fast every
stroke through my walls was electric and fierce, the friction almost burning my wide-stretched pussy until finally he pulled out. I could heard the fap and slap of him jerking off behind me. I lifted my head to peer back over my shoulder, the vision of him jacking his cock so hot I almost came again even though he wasn't touching even touching me. Thick spurts of white, hot cum burst from the bulging, purple
mushroom of his cock, spraying up into the air at first, and then he aimed it downward to paint the seat of my panties and bare thighs with gooey, warm jiz. It tickled as it dripped, cooling against my skin until goosebumps raised against my flesh and I shivered. Dean just stood behind me catching his breath and processing what we'd done for what felt like ten minutes. His limp, spent cock dangled through the open zipper of
his pants. Finally, he slapped the side of my ass as if silently willing me to get off his desk and then he dropped back into his chair with a satisfied exhale before stuffing himself back into his pants and zipping up. I scooted off the desk, his cold seed dripping down the backs of my thighs. Dean handed me a bunch of clean napkins from the last fast food restaurant he'd eaten at and I wiped myself clean before turning
around to face him. I felt nervous again, but I knew it was now or never. If I flinched for even a second, acted in the least bit like I felt ashamed of what we'd done, he'd never give me the job. Swallowing my apprehension, I leaned back on his desk and crossed my arms over my chest. "So about the job," I started. "I need this, Dean." "Call me Daddy," he said. I
watched the snide corner of his mouth jerk into a sly grin. "Daddy," I corrected myself. "I really need this job. I'm busting my ass at Burger Bunny. I barely have time to do my homework and I'm exhausted all the time." "Okay." I watched him for a moment, trying to guess what that one simple word really meant. "Okay?" I asked.
"Okay," he shrugged. "Come in Tuesday and Thursday for a couple hours, watch the other dancers, practice… You can start next weekend." "Really?" "Sure," he nodded. "Quit that other job tomorrow and I'll cut you a check tonight to get you through the next week." I couldn't believe what I was hearing. "Are you serious? I can't
pay you back until I get on my feet… I don't know how long it'll take." "You don't have to pay me back," he shrugged again. "Consider it an investment in your future," he said. "I want you to focus on school, study hard…" He paused for a moment before finally finishing with, "Make your old man proud." "I don't know what to say." I heard the quiver in my own voice.
"How about thank you, Daddy?" I nodded, blinking back the tears of overwhelming joy that threatened to slip down my cheeks. "Thank you, Daddy." I bent down and hugged his neck, squeezing tight before laying a kiss on his cheek as I backed up. "Thank you so much." "You're welcome," he grinned. "Now go on home and get a good night's sleep."
"I will," I promised. "Thank you." I felt giddy as I backed away from his desk and bent down to retrieve my jacket from the back of the chair. "It was real good seeing you again, Buffy. I'm glad we'll be able to work together. I really wanted to stay in touch but… you know. Things with your mother… and all that." "I understand."
"And Buff," he started, holding back for a moment as he carefully considered his words. "This… you working here, let's keep that between us. I wouldn't want your mom finding out…" "Of course not!" I nodded in eager agreement. I couldn't imagine what my mom would say if she ever knew. She'd probably have a stroke right after she called up her lawyer to go after Dean for even more alimony than she was already
soaking him for. "Good girl," approvingly.
he
smiled
I ducked out of his office and walked through the hallway and back out into the club. Misty was up on stage again, finishing her last number, and though I'd just been thoroughly reamed in a way that should have satisfied me for the night, watching her glide down the length of the pole made me quiver inside all over again. Maybe with us
working together we could combine our talent and put on a real hot show someday, but for the moment I was content to just watch and learn, soaking in the memory of her every move so I could practice at home and pray that one day I'd be as good a stripper as Misty. I waited for her to come out of the back, excited to share my good news. "Well? How did it go?" she asked as she rushed up to meet me.
"I'm in!" She squealed excitedly, gripping my arms in her hands as she jumped up and down. "Awesome! This is gonna be so sweet!" "Yeah," I nodded in agreement, surveying the club. It was gonna be awesome. I was going to be dancing for my Daddy two nights a week and if I did a good job making sure he was satisfied, he'd make sure my bank account was never empty
again!
BAD BIKERS DADDY'S LITTLE GIRL
ONE MAYBE WHEN YOU'RE OLDER
As long as I could remember my dad and his friends made an annual bike run from California to Florida
for Daytona Bike Week. For weeks before the run they'd gather daily in Dad's garage, prepping their hogs for the trip and reliving memories of bike runs past. Every year I'd linger on the sidelines, listening to their bawdy tales and watching them polish their chrome… until my dad realized I was there and sent me off with the promise of his belt across my backside if I didn't give them their space. "Why can't I go too?" I whined
the same tune every year. And every year Dad would say, "It's no place for a girl your age. Maybe when you're older." Maybe when you're older… Whatever! I was old enough to get them beers when they were thirsty, old enough to notice the way half of them ogled me whenever I pranced through the garage to talk to my dad. Maybe when you're older. God, how I hated those words.
The year I turned eighteen I started bugging dad around Christmas. "I'm older," I said. "I'm eighteen now. Can I go with you this year?" Dad grunted from under the oil pan, the wrench in his hand clanging against concrete as he dropped it. "It's not place for a girl your age. How many times do I have to tell you?" "But that's not fair! George let his daughter go when she was
eighteen!" I looked toward Dad's friend George, who was reclining against the hood of Dad's truck. "Didn't you, George?" I raised my eyebrows at him, hoping he would back me up. "It's true, Red," George said. "I took Alyssa with me for the first time when she was seventeen." "See!" "I'm not George," Dad reminded me.
Yeah, no shit. George was cool. "And you're not Alyssa," he added after a few minutes of stiff silence. "Won't you at least think about it? Please, Daddy?" "No." He sat up and wiped his greasy hands on the thighs of his torn, faded jeans. "That's my final answer." "I'm not a baby! Why do you
hate me?" I glared at him like a little girl who'd been denied ice cream at the carnival. "I'm not dumb, Dad. I know what goes on th…" "Enough, Rachel!" He tightened his jaw, his sky-blue eyes narrowing hard at me before he reached his hand up to swipe a trail of black through his beard. "The answer is no. If you ask again, I'll throw you over my knee." As if. He hadn't spanked me
since I was six-years-old. He liked to threaten, but he never followed through. Still, I didn't want to push him. He had that look in his eye that seemed to promise he might just give in and blister my ass if I didn't leave him alone. I didn't say anything else, but I stomped out of the garage with such immaturity I was actually a little ashamed of myself. I heard Dad's and George's muffled voices as I slammed the door behind me and started toward the house. Just as I reached the last
stair to the porch, I heard my name. Glancing back over my shoulder, I saw George stalking toward stairs. I'd always thought George was hot, even though he was older than my dad. Rugged, carefree and with a body that never seemed to quit, even though he was pushing fifty. "You know he's just looking out for you," George said. He lifted his hand to rest on the railing and I watched as his eyes rolled up the length of my legs, lingering for a
moment over the crotch of my tight, cut-off jean shorts and then lifting over my exposed stomach. "You say you know what goes on there, but really, Rachel, you have no idea. It gets really wild. He's just trying to protect you." "From what?" I balked. "Finding out what a dirty old man he is? I know what goes on, George, and trust me when I tell you I'm not afraid." "You should be." He tossed his
salt-and-pepper ponytail over his shoulder and looked hard into my eyes. "The guys we ride with… Yeah, they tease you and laugh with you, but your dad… he's worried about what might happen when they get you alone. Red's daughter, or not, you're a hot little thing with an ass that doesn't quit and bouncy little titties they can't keep their eyes off." "And what about you, George?" I asked, leaning against the banister
and stretching my legs before crossing them at the ankle. "Can you keep your eyes off my tight little ass and bouncy titties?" A flush of pink crept up the sides of his neck, splotching both his cheeks as he lowered his gaze away from me and toward the bottom step. "That's exactly why your dad won't let you go, right there. It's like you're walking around with a big 'fuck me' sign on your back, and you know it's there, but you don't care."
"Is that what you want to do, George? You want to fuck me?" "Now Rachel," he stammered. "You know… your dad and I… I wouldn't, even if I did want to." "Oh, come on," I purred, moving down a step and sitting down. I opened my legs a little, knowing from that angle he'd catch a glimpse of my bright pink panties inside the denim. "It'd be our little secret. Daddy'd never have to know."
"I would know," he said, his gaze lifting toward that glimpse of lacy pink. "I'm not a virgin, you know." I spread my legs a little wider, leaning back with my elbows on the porch step behind me. "But maybe… No, never mind. You're too much of a pussy." I closed my legs, stood up and hiked the last two steps. I heard his heavy boots on the staircase behind me when I whipped open the screen door and
walked into the house. I didn't have to look back to know he was hot on my heels, or that the splotches of pink that had colored his neck were now burning his face bright red. I was already halfway to the kitchen when I heard the screen door creak on its hinges and slam closed again. "You know, maybe your daddy should have turned you over his knee more often, you spoiled little brat," George spat, coming up fast behind me and grabbing my arm to
spin me around. "You could do with a good spanking." "And who's gonna give it to me, George?" I laughed to hide the trembles of desire fluttering through me at his touch. "You? Are you gonna spank me?" "I should." His teeth were clenched tight together, and when he said those words tiny bits of spittle flecked my cheeks. "I should turn you over my knee and tan your hide real good."
I leaned forward and rested my hand on his chest. So close I could smell the musty odor of oil and dust on his skin, I lingered near his cheek and said, "Don't make promises you won't keep." Still gripping my wrist in his hand, he pushed past me and dragged me into the kitchen. With a heavy shove, he positioned me over the counter so my ass was sticking out in front of him. I didn't think he'd actually go through with it, but
then I glanced over my shoulder and from the corner of my eye saw him draw his arm back. It rushed forward in a blur, his open palm slapping the bare skin just under the low-cut of my shorts. It stung, the nerves tingling in response, and then he spanked me again and again and again. With every whack, he made comment. "It's not like you didn't have this coming." Slap! "Always prancing around in your short
shorts." Slap! "Shaking your ass at me like some kind of go-go dancer." Slap! "Someone should have done this…" Slap! "…a long goddamned time ago!" Slap! Warm pulses of pain throbbed beneath my skin in the place his hand had repeatedly smacked. I thought he was going to keep slapping, but then he caught himself in mid swing, his fist opening and closing as if he were shaking off the tingles in his flesh.
"Rachel," he muttered my name like a man who'd lost control, the syllables shuttering across his tongue. "Oh Rachel… I'm so… I'm sorry." His calloused palm slid over the throbbing pink imprint his hand had left on my backside and shivers tickled across the surface of my skin in trails of tiny goosebumps. "I shouldn't have lost my temper like that. It's just that…" George was still smoothing his hand over the pulsing spot where he'd spanked me. "You're an adult now."
"That's why you spanked me?" Still glancing back over my shoulder, I cocked an eyebrow at him. "You need to start acting like a grown up." I pulled away from his hand and slowly turned around to face him. "You're not my dad." I grinned at him, fingertip reaching out to trace down the stubble on his cheek. I trailed over his neck, and he stretched to the side with a
shudder. That fingertip glided over the open buttons on his shirt, down the muscles of his chest and stomach, which were still tight and firm. I didn't stop until it rested over the button stretching the waist of his dirty jeans. Looping it into the waistband of his pants, I undid the button and slid his zipper open as I dropped slowly in front of him. "Is this grown up enough for you?" I asked, slipping my fingers into his underwear. The sticky wet
head of his hard cock brushed against my hand and I leaned back to smile up at him. "Did spanking me make you hard, George?" "Rachel, you shouldn't be…" I pulled his cock out of the waistband of his underwear and eyed the length. It was long and a little on the thin side, but nice and smooth beneath my curling fingers. "Your Dad is right outside." "He's busy," I said, leaning forward to lick the glistening drop
of cum bubbling from the head. "Mm," I moaned, glancing up at him for approval. "Maybe," I pushed the soft, swollen head into my mouth, twirling my tongue around the edges before suckling sweetly and then popping him out of my lips. "Maybe if I show you how grown up I am, you can convince my dad to let me come along with you guys." I tempted him further by licking my lips and then lowering them
over his cock again. I wrapped my grip around his shaft and drew upward in precise strokes, while flicking my tongue up and down, over and around the throbbing, purple head of his cock. He grunted, his fist clenching as he jutted hips forward to slowly slide his dick in and out of my wet mouth. "Rachel," his whisper was almost a protest, but that protest was tainted with desire for me to keep sucking. "Rachel, this is…
bad," he said. I nodded in agreement, his cock still gliding in and out of my lips until an excited moan garbled in the back of my throat. He rocked faster, my lips stretched around him, the head banging the back of my throat until I almost gagged. I kept pumping my fist up and down his shaft, stroking harder and faster while he tried desperately to stifle the quickening gasps of desire pulsing from his lips.
Still jerking him off, I pulled him out of my mouth and said, "You'll convince him, won't you, George?" And in an effort to make sure his answer was to my liking, I lowered my face to his sweaty sack and suckled his balls until I felt his fingers in my hair, tangled and pulling, pushing me closer. The salt of his sweat mingled with soap, coating my tongue as I glided it up his hot shaft. I lifted my gaze to his again. "Please?"
"Yes," he hissed and pushed his cock between my lips again. Ramming himself in and out of my mouth as if it were some hot, young pussy, I tightened my lips around him and let him pound at my tonsils. "Yes," he said again, his voice quivering. "Keep sucking my cock. Stroke me, stroke me hard." Under his grip, strands of my hair began to painfully snap free, but it felt good, almost as good as the throbbing welt he'd left on my
ass. If I had thought I could get away with it, I would have fucked him right there on the kitchen counter, but we had to be careful. My dad would have shot him dead on the spot if he'd walked in and caught his best friend fucking me. A blow job was a quick guarantee that I'd have George on my side, longing desperately to penetrate more than just my mouth the next time. "Oh god! I'm cumming," George announced, bucking his hips faster.
I could feel his stiff cock growing harder, surging with the promise of his hot, salty seed. I quickened the movement of my hand, bobbing up and down with my lips and tongue until he groaned and shivered, spraying his cum down my throat. I gulped it down, swallowing every last drop and licking him clean with my tongue before sliding him out of my mouth and looking up at him. "I'm older now," I said, lifting
my hand to wipe the corner of my mouth. "Tell my daddy I'm a big girl, George. Tell him it's time I came along." I put his cock back in his pants and drew the zipper upward. "If you convince him, there's more where that came from." George refused to look me in the eye, and I knew why. He'd have an even harder time looking my dad in the face, I figured, but he'd still talk to him and do as I'd asked. After the
amazing cock-sucking I'd just given him, he'd want more. He wouldn't be happy until he was buried balls deep in my pussy and fucking me until I screamed. Without buttoning his fly, he brushed past me, stormed outside and seconds later I heard the roar of his Harley kick to life before he burned out of the driveway and sped off.
TWO FLY LIKE AN EAGLE
Having George on my side was tantamount to convincing my dad to let me tag along cross country.
Though he didn't show his face at the house for a few days, the afternoon he did return everyone was hanging around Dad's garage discussing campgrounds and possible weather snags along the way. They were plotting to travel through Arizona and New Mexico, down into Texas and through Louisiana. They'd scrape the bottom of Mississippi and Alabama before cruising on into the Sunshine State. A straight trip through took
about forty hours, at least that's what Dad said, but they were planning to take their time. Stopping to camp overnight in New Mexico and then driving the next until they reached the campground just outside of San Antonio, Texas. George showed up just as they were discussing a campsite in Gulfport, Mississippi, and avoided eye contact completely as he walked to the refrigerator in the corner of the garage to get himself a beer.
"Three days ride," Eagle said, leaning back in his chair. "I can't wait to get on the road, feel the wind in my hair again. It's been so long." He waved his hand through his mid-waist length, black hair, shifting it over his shoulder to cover his back. Eagle had just gotten out of a five year vacation in prison (for what, I had no idea… my dad refused to tell me whenever I asked, often answering with, "Mind your own business and get me a beer.")
Eagle was hot. That wasn't his real name, but I'd always thought it made him sexier. I think I remember Dad yelling at him once and calling him Alan, or something, but everyone else called him Eagle because of his Shoshone heritage. Eagle… I wondered what it would take to get him on my side. He used to call me Little Wing when I was a kid. He'd drop down on all fours in the back yard and let me ride around on his back like a
horse, laughing while he said, "Fly, Little Wing." I was a stupid kid. I thought that meant he liked me, that maybe when I grew up I could marry him. I couldn't tell you the number of times I'd lay in my bed at night tickling my clit and thinking about Eagle down between my thighs, even before he went to prison for whatever it was he'd done wrong. Sometimes the thrill and excitement of him being in prison only made me wetter, as I tried to imagine what horrible crimes he
committed. Maybe he'd knocked over a convenience store, or murdered someone. I shuddered and drew my hand up to rest on my thigh. George was looking at me, watching me watch Eagle, and a twinge of excitement sparked in my tummy. Was he jealous, or just remembering the delicious feeling of my wet lips and slippery tongue gobbling up his hard cock. Another twinge rippled through me, and I
felt my panties getting moist. George and Eagle, both of them at the same time… I wondered what it would take to make that happen. It was like my dad got some weird vibe from me or something because in that instant he plunked his beer down on the table in front of the map and startled me from my daydream. "Don't you have homework or something?" "No," I shrugged.
I felt the pink stain of embarrassment creeping along my heated cheeks. I hated it when he made me look like a baby in front of his friends. Friends who had all watched me grow from a toddler into what George had referenced as a go-go girl with a fuck me sign on her back. "Well go find something to do somewhere else. Go to the mall, or go tan, or whatever it is you do." "I'm hanging out," I told him,
feeling my lower lip push into pout mode. "I like listening to you guys talk." "Too bad, go on, get!" He rolled his eyes and reached up to scratch at the strawberry blonde patch of stubble covering his cheek. "She's not hurting anybody, Red." George waved him off, and I could almost hear the quiver of fear in his voice. As if speaking up would give away our naughty secret and he'd wind up with a shotgun
pointed at his face before the day was through. "You remember what it was like," he went on. "The thrill of the ride. You should be glad she's even interested in what we do." "Is that what she is?" A hint of sarcasm gripped his voice. "Interested in what we do?" Oh god, he knew. He knew what I'd been sitting there thinking about while dreamily gazing over at Eagle's leather chaps and imagining no pants beneath them. I imagined
Eagle knew I'd sucked George off, and was secretly thinking about how good it would have felt to slide my slick, young pussy down on his long shaft. "She thinks if she hangs around here long enough, I'll let her come along," Dad said. "But it ain't gonna happen. So she needs to just scoot her ass on outta here and go find something else to do." "You're not letting her ride with you?" Randy was a big guy, bald-
headed, but with a long, curly blonde beard streaked with silver threads. He wasn't fat, but he had a bit of a beer gut. I'd certainly never fantasized about Randy, but maybe if I could win him over to my side… I wondered for a moment what it would take. Flashing him a hint at my panties? A hand job, maybe? "Hell no!" Dad half-snorted, half-bellowed. "There's no room on the back of my bike for her." "That's no reason to not let her
come along on her first cross country, Red." I almost wet myself when Eagle spoke up, his deep voice stirring a hush the garage. "She can ride with me." I swear a whole minute ticked by before Dad started to laugh, a deep belly chuckle only reddened my cheeks more. "What, and watch the cops drag my eighteen-year-old daughter off to prison with a parole violator? You're not even supposed to leave the county, Eagle."
"Bah," Eagle waved a hand at him. "They'll never know I'm gone." As he turned his soulful brown eyes toward me, the hair fell from over his shoulder and back into his face, curtaining his gaze. "You wanna fly with me, Little Wing? It'll be like old times when I used to let you ride around on my back." Before I could even answer Dad said, "No! Absolutely not!" "Dad," I sighed. "You're not being fair."
"I don't have to be fair. I'm the boss." Arching my eyebrows toward the ceiling, I pushed myself up to stand. "Whatever." As I made my out of the garage and toward my car, I could hear Eagle and Dad exchanging clipped words. Something about me not being a baby, and if he didn't let me ride with someone he could trust, I'd find someone he couldn't and do
what I wanted. Dad didn't say anything to that, at least not that I could hear through the closed garage door. I walked to my car and slid into the driver's seat to take a ride and blow off steam. Despite his rough exterior, I knew my dad loved me. I was all he really had in the world, besides his bikes, and maybe he was just trying to protect me. I remembered what George said about the guys he and my dad riding with looking at me
like some kind of sex object. Was that what my dad really saw, or was it really like I was walking around with a big "fuck me" sign strapped to my back? I don't know how long I drove around, but it was already dark when I pulled up to the house, just in time to see Eagle pull out of the driveway and turn right. Instead of turning in, I followed him up the road, hoping he'd realize it was me and pull over to talk. He either
didn't notice me, or he actually wanted me to follow him all the way to his house. I climbed the driveway and left my car idling while he locked up his bike inside the garage. About three minutes later (though it felt like an hour,) he walked out of the garage and stalked toward my car. I rolled down my window and he bent down, hands perched on the door. "I thought that was you behind me.
You wanna come inside?" I nodded and turned off the car. He stepped back from the door to let me out, and I followed him up the porch steps and through the rickety screen door. The light he turned on in the living room glowed orange, but dim, casting dusty light across the barely lived-in space. I'd never been inside his house, and I wondered if it had been any cheerier before he'd gone to prison. "I'd offer you a beer, but I'd
rather not go back to prison right now." He waved toward a worn, brown and gold sofa and said, "You can sit down." "Thanks." I shuffled toward the couch and took a seat. The knots in my stomach seemed to be tying and untying themselves while my brain cried out, what the hell am I doing here? "Pretty pissed off at your old man, huh?" He lowered himself onto the chair opposite of me, his
long legs stretching out as he relaxed. "I don't care what he says," I shook my head. "I'm going on that ride." Eagle's lips drew into a slow, wide grin. "I've no doubt you'll find a way. Hell, I tried my best to help ya. Would have loved to have you ride with me, but Red's got a good point. I shouldn't even be going on this ride, and if something came up, I wouldn't want you to get in
trouble." "I'm a big girl," I told him. "I can handle trouble." I was surprised by the sinister sound of his laughter. He leaned forward in the chair, templing his fingers together and resting his elbows on his knees. "I've no doubt of that either, Little Wing." His stare moved over me, traveling the length of my legs, hovering over my chest and then lifting to meet with mine. "I go away and you're just a
little bud, come back and find a full grown flower, but you got a good life ahead of you. You don't need that future tainted with a criminal record." "There's gotta be another way." I wanted to lean closer to him, breathe him in and see if he still smelled like earth and smoke and sweet cherries. "Can you help me?" He laughed again, shaking his head. "How am I supposed to help you? You know Red. Once his mind
is made up, it's made up. Unless you learn how to ride alone and come up with your own hog…" "You could teach me." I leaned forward excitedly, my hands reaching out to cover his, fingers curling over his warm flesh and gently squeezing. "Yeah, I could, but not in time." "Oh," I sighed and started to withdraw my hands, but he snagged them in his and held me there.
"Is that why you really came all the way out here?" he asked. "To ask me to help you find a way to come on this ride?" I shrugged my left shoulder up under my ear and looked down at his hands over mine, long fingers pressing softly against mine. "I really wanna go." His hand slipped away from mine, lifting up to draw my chin up so I had no choice but to meet his eyes. "I can't help you, Little Wing.
I'm sorry." I half-nodded, my mouth twisting with defeat. I should have known there was nothing he could do, but it didn't have to be a wasted trip. What if… "Can I help you?" I looked up into his eyes again, the corners of my mouth drawing into a slow grin. "You've been away a long time…" He tilted his head as if to ask if I was suggesting what he thought I was suggesting. Without asking for
clarification, he said, "You know your old man would skin me alive if he ever found out you were here, and if he knew you just made that offer…" He paused, his finger still lingering under my chin, thumb thoughtfully caressing my jaw. "He'd set my skinless body on fire and keep pouring on the gasoline." I shook my head. "He'd never have to know." I lifted my hand to curl fingers around his wrist and then nestled
my cheek against his open palm. Turning my head, I kissed his wrist, then trailed my lips up over the inside of his hand. I darted my tongue out to trace the length of his middle finger for lowering my lips over it and suckling softly. The gentle sound of his throaty moan brought another grin to my lips as I popped his finger out of my mouth. "I've thought about you," I told him. "I used to finger myself in bed and imagine it was you going down
on me." One eyebrow shot up in disbelief. "You really are all grown up, aren't you?" "Let me show you." I moved onto my knees and crawled toward him, pushing him back in the chair. One by one I unfastened the buttons on his shirt, untucking it from his worn, faded jeans, and he just watched me, the corner of his mouth occasionally
spiking in curiosity. His chest and abs were rock hard, as though he'd had nothing to do but work out for five years, and I slid my finger down the center of his stomach, not stopping until I met with the thin black line of hair trailing into the top of his jeans. When I reached for the button, his hand lowered over mine to stop me. "Once you unleash the beast, there's no turning back," he said. "I'm not afraid."
This made him smile, and he lifted his hand away from mine, allowing me to slip the button through the hole and draw down his zipper. He was already hard, bulging to break free as the zipper moved over his underwear, and I wondered what waited for me beneath the white, cotton waistband. I palmed my hand over the sensitive, leaping hard on pushing to be free, stroking him through the fabric and trying to get an accurate feel for his size. He
felt huge, but the only way to be sure was to unleash the beast, as he'd so calmly stated. My fingers curved beneath the waistband and brushed his skin. He shuddered in anticipation as I drew his cock out to inspect it. Lowering my gaze down the length, I surmised he was at least ten inches, and as impressive as that was the girth was what really made me gasp. He was so thick, I wasn't even sure he'd fit into my mouth, but I'd
never been a quitter. I had to try it. I leaned close, eying the glistening drop of excitement at the top of his swollen, purple head and then darted my tongue out to taste the salt of his pre-cum. All the while he watched me, eyebrows raised as I gripped him at the base, opened wide and lowered my lips over his thick, hard cock. "Mm," he sighed, sinking even further back into the chair as I glided my tongue in circles around
the fat head. "I forgot how good a woman's mouth could feel." I suckled, pushing as much of his dick into my mouth as I could fit, all the while stroking slowly up and down with my tightly fisted hand. I slurped and drooled down the length, wetting him so my hand easily glided the length of his shaft while I sucked. "Jesus, girl," he moaned. "Where the fuck did you learn how to do that?"
I shrugged, never removing my slow, gliding lips from his cock. His hand snaked up, tangling into the hair at the back of my neck and guiding my head up and down, but as I suspected he was so thick I could barely fit more than a couple inches of him into my mouth at a time. I felt him pushing toward the bag of my throat, tickling my gag reflex, and as I gagged, the contracting muscles drew even more of him into my mouth, the
slobber trickling down his cock and over my fingers. "You've obviously been practicing," he said, stopping me from bobbing back down. "But how about we make your little fantasy come true?" Eagle gestured me toward the couch again, and I stepped back, lowering myself into the sinking cushions. He stood up, his cock still hard and bouncing between the teeth of his zipper, and came toward
me, kneeling on the floor and parting my legs. His warm hands lingered for a moment on my knees and he leveled his gaze at me before glancing down between my thighs. I was wearing a short, black skirt, which he easily slid upward, bunching it at the top of my legs before almost violently wrenching my panties down and dropping them on the floor beside him. My skirt had fallen down over me again, but he quickly pushed it back up, eying my glistening pink snatch
with approval. "You're all wet." He slid his finger up from my hole to tickle the hard nub of my clit for a second, his grin growing. "In your fantasies, was I doing this?" That same finger glided down my slit again and then slowly prodded my folds. He pushed it deep inside me, rolled it around and then drew it out, pushed it in and drew it out until I started to writhe and wiggle against each thrust.
I threw back my head and closed my eyes, not believing that teenage fantasy I'd fingered myself too all those nights was finally coming true. Eagle was down between my thighs, his finger deep in my pussy, and then he lowered his lips over my clit, his soft tongue snaking out to taste my snatch. I shivered with delight while he circled his tongue around and around my hard, pulsing clit, while still driving not one, but now two fingers in and out of my hole.
His lips felt like wet feathers, tickling, sucking, lapping and slurping while he ate my dripping pink pussy. Each time he drew his fingers out I could feel how wet they were, completely soaked with my juices before he jammed them back inside. I'd had my pussy eaten before, but Eagle was like a professional, pulsing and slapping, darting and sliding, hardening the muscles in his tongue at all the right times.
I bucked my hips, pushing my cunt closer to his mouth until I was practically riding his face. It was better than my finger-fucking fantasies. So much better, and when he started to suck hard on my clit I couldn't hold back. I cried out, waves of pleasure rippling through me as he lapped at the cum gushing from my pussy in excited spurts. When I opened my eyes again, he lifted his face to look at him. In the dim orange light his face
glistened with my juice and he rolled his tongue out to lick the taste of me from his lips. "You taste so good," he said, his right hand swiping across his chin. "And your pussy is so tight. You're not a virgin, are you?" I shook my head. "No. I've been with lots of guys." "I bet you've never been with a guy like me." At that, we both glanced down at
the massive cock throbbing in his lap. It was true. Most of the guys I'd been with were guys my own age, and none of them had been as thick as Eagle. I wondered as I stared how it would feel to wriggle my wet pussy down onto that beastly shaft and start slowly pumping my hips. "There's a everything."
first
time
for
I shrugged and sat up, pushing his shoulders back and positioning myself over his lap. He held his
cock straight in one hand, and cupped my ass in the other, guiding me until his thick, swollen head brushed through my slick folds and bulged against my tight hole. Even as I lowered my hips in attempt to push him inside me, he was so thick his cock just probed the outside of my pussy, stretching against the wet skin. He bit his lip and pushed upward, concentrating hard on getting inside me, but it was no use.
He was too big. Even though I was dripping wet with his spit and my own cum, it wasn't enough lubrication for him to easily slide inside me. Eagle lifted me up and away and told me to lie down, then he got up and left me alone. I got comfortable on the floor, my skirt lifted up over my stomach and legs bent and waiting. I heard him shuffling around in the other room, and then his footsteps as he walked intently
back into the living room. He slid his pants down around his knees and then bent on the floor in between my legs. He had a bottle of olive oil in his hand, which he twisted open and poured generously into his hand. Olive oil? That was new. He slicked the thick, golden oil over his cock, a soft moan catching in the back of his throat while he stroked it down the length of his shaft, then back up to coat the head. "Turn around," he said, "and get
on your knees." I rolled onto my stomach, backed toward him and pushed my bare ass into the air. I glanced over my shoulder to catch the flash of his approving grin just before he poked the oiled head of his cock around the edges of my tight snatch again. Even with the extra lubrication, it took almost a minute of determined prodding before he finally pushed that thick, throbbing head inside me. The slow glide of
his shaft breeched my walls, pushing them further apart than they'd ever been, and I gasped with surprise and discomfort as he fully sheathed himself inside me with a slow, throaty moan. "Oh yeah, girl." He squeezed my ass cheeks in his grip, still pushing into my depths. "You are so fucking tight." I whimpered at the feeling of him stroking backward and nearly screamed when he slammed his
massive beast into me with a heavy bang I'd be feeling for days. Bucking his hips forward, he built up a rhythm as the skin inside me stretched and hugged, muscles clenched tight and quivering in response to every stroke. It took awhile for me to get into his rhythm, willing respond and jam my hips purposely backward until I could feel his balls slam with a wet smack repeatedly against my lips. Every thrust drove him deeper,
his cock repeatedly ramming my cervix, but it was a delicious pain unlike any I'd ever felt before. "You like that?" His hand smacked the tender skin of my bouncing ass as I ground my hips backward. "You like that big cock?" "Oh yes!" I wailed. "Slam me harder." He pounded my pussy, each quick, precise stroke drawing me closer to the rippling intensity of
gushing orgasm. The walls of my cunt shuddered around him and I cried out, "Don't stop fucking me! Don't stop! Don't stop!" Squeezing hands kneaded the meaty flesh of my bucking ass. Eagle's thumb edged closer to my asshole, stroking the outside gently to moisten the tip and probe it against the tense hole. My muscles instinctively clenched around his thumb as it wiggled inside me, stretching and prodding as he kept
ramming his massive cock into me. "I'm gonna fuck your ass," he growled, pushing his thumb deep inside my hole. I'd actually never been fucked in the ass before. I'd been fingered and tongued a few times during oral sex, but I'd never taken cock through the back door. I won't lie; I was a little scared. He'd barely been able to squeeze his massive dick into my tight, dripping pussy, so I could barely imagine him breaching the
clenched walls of my virgin ass. With his cock still balls deep in my snatch, I gasped at the cold drizzle of the olive oil he'd lubed his cock with dripping down over my quivering hole. He pulled his thumb out, rolling it around in the oil and then plunging it back into my ass to loosen the tight muscles with a few powerful strokes. "Your ass is even tighter than your pussy," he said, quickening the stabbing pulse of his cock and
sliding his thumb in harder, faster. I'd just gotten used to his girth and didn't want him to pull out so soon. "I've never…" I started to say, but he pulled his thumb out and spread my ass cheeks wide with both hands. It was just a little sore from the skillful poke of his thumb, so I could barely imagine how painful it would be when he rammed his thick shaft inside. He slid out of me, and as if he felt me quivering with fear, he
promised in a whisper, "It'll only hurt for a minute." My muscles instinctively tried to block him when glided the slippery head of his cock teasingly against my ass. Each time I tightened, he'd push against me, grabbing my cheeks in his powerful grip and spreading them wide to show me who was in charge. Even though it had shocked me a little, his thumb had felt good inside me, stroking and tickling, and the slick prod of
his swollen head promised to feel just as good, so I started to relax. And then he punched his cock into my ass so hard I screamed. As he drew back, the fat head still lingering inside, he slowly stroked forward again, filling my clenching hole with the entire length of his ten inch dick. "Jesus!" I cried out. "Oh my god! Jesus." Eagle half-laughed and half-
cried out, the pleasure quavering in the strangled sound of his excitement. With each deliberate slam of his cock, I cried out, but soon the muscles began to relax and pain mingled with pleasure. He reached around to fondle my clit with his fingers, pounding in and out of my asshole like a jackhammer. I swear, I saw stars behind my closed eyelids. "So tight," he moaned. "So tight, this won't take long," he promised.
He tickled my clit like a master, his long fingers gliding in and out of my dripping cunt while he rammed me over and over again from behind. Before long hot waves of excitement rippled through me. My orgasm only intensified his cries, and he pushed harder, punching in and out of my stretched and aching asshole. "Yeah girl!" Every bang sent shocks of pain through me in agonizing delight. "Fuck yeah!"
I wanted to please him, to show him I wasn't some inexperienced little girl anymore, so I clenched my teeth against the pain and jammed my ass down over his cock again and again until I felt his body stiffen and tense. He shuddered with an earsplitting cry and shot his cum into my ass like a geyser of fire. He slowed his stroke, ramming me over and over until his load was blown. Still
gasping for breath, he
pulled out torturously slow. Every inch he backed out was a small hint of relief. Eagle panted behind me, his hand reaching out to affectionately stroke the small of my back. I stayed on my hands and knees, ass still pointed upward for fear that if I let myself fall, I'd never get up again. "My god," I whispered. Hot cum leaked out of my ass and trickled down the backs of my thighs.
"You're not a virgin anymore, Little Wing," he said, slapping my oiled skin. "Next time it'll feel even better." Next time? I gulped at the thought of him pounding that massive rod into my ass again, and finally allowed myself to collapse onto the floor in a puddle of strange contentment. I heard him get up behind me and walk out of the room. A few minutes later he returned with a towel and knelt
down to gently wipe the cum from my thighs and ass. I winced each time he neared my hole, which made him chuckle as he dropped down to sit beside me. "You're a trooper, girl." He spanned his palm over my shoulder and squeezed. "Yeah," I asked, glancing back at him. The damp strands of his long black hair fell around his face, but I could still see his eyes glistening with excitement in the dim orange
light. "A real trooper," he nodded. After a few minutes of silence, he said, "I bet you never imagined that in your fantasies." I laughed and shook my head. "No, I didn't." "I'm honored," he said. "Fucking you has been like a taste of forbidden fruit." Neither of us said anything for a long time after that. My brain wasn't thinking in words,
but in the short pulses of tingling pain still rippling through my ass. "A fruit I'd like to taste again and again." "If you can help me convince Dad to let me ride along…" I started, "you can taste my fucking fruit anytime you want." His lips tightened into an appreciative grin of agreement. "You'll be on that ride," he promised. Leaning down, he brushed his lips against my ear and
whispered, "If I have to kill to make it happen." It took awhile for me to work up the energy to get dressed and go home. Eagle walked me to my car and bent down in the window to say goodbye. "Thanks," he said. "For letting me be the first." I nodded, shifting in my seat to try and find a comfortable position. "Anytime," I winked, turning the
key in the ignition. He backed away from the car and watched me drive away. Eagle would help me, probably more than George, but I couldn't even begin to imagine how. I'd seen Dad's furious refusal when Eagle had suggested I ride with him. It was going to take a lot of convincing, but I had a feeling he'd do whatever it took to make sure my tight little ass was on that ride.
THREE TONGUE AND TORQUE
There weren't a lot of individual women that hung out with my dad and his friends. Most of the chicks
who did come around were wives or girlfriends, but not Stacey. She'd been like the lone female for as long as I could remember, and for years I thought she and my dad were an item, so kind of twisted couple who hooked up to satisfy their carnal lusts, but kept separate houses to keep things from getting too complicated. Stacey came and went, even when Dad wasn't around, and could often be found tinkering in the
garage with the 1966 Sportster she'd been restoring for the last few months in her spare time. Dad was away on some business trip and I was home alone for the weekend when I heard Stacey roar into the driveway Saturday morning. I peeled the curtains back and watched her pull up the garage door, her tight ass disappearing inside. If anyone could convince my dad to let me tag along on the ride, it
would be Stacey. He listened to her with a level of attention that fell short when it came to others, which only reinforced my suspicion that there was something more to their relationship than met the eye. Finding a way to convince her to help me wouldn't be easy. She was hard, the kind of strict woman my father often said would have been the perfect mother to help raise me. Since no one else was on the property and I really didn't think
Stacey would care one way or the other what I was wearing, I shuffled out to the garage in my baby doll nightie and slippers. I probably should have at least put on a sweater. It was a little chilly that morning, and halfway to the garage my nipples were so hard I thought they'd poke through the fabric of my short little nightie. I crossed my arms over my chest to hide them as I approached and lingered outside the garage door to
watch Stacey rifle through the tool cabinet for the right torque wrench. She hadn't heard me approach, so when she caught me from the corner of her eye standing there watching her, she jumped a little and lifted a hand to her chest with a gasp. "Jesus, Rachel!" she turned around to face me, the golden braid of her hair hanging over her shoulder. "You scared the hell outta me."
"Sorry," I shrugged, forgetting about my rock hard nipples for a moment and dropping my arms down at my sides. "What are you doing out here so early? I figured you'd still be asleep," she said. "I didn't leave here last night until around midnight, and you still weren't home." She was waiting for me to get home? Probably on my dad's orders, I thought. "I must have just missed
you." I stepped up into the garage. "Why? Were you waiting for me?" Stacey drew her left shoulder up. "Just wanted to make sure you were keeping out of trouble." I giggled and tossed my hair back over my shoulder. "Me, get into trouble? Never!" She surprised me with the soft titter of her own laughter. "Yeah, you and trouble are one and the same." She turned back to the tool
chest and brought out the wrench she'd been looking for, a long, steel rod with a bumpy black rubber handle. She clenched it in her fist, slapping the steel against her other palm as she turned back toward me. "Stacey, you're going on the ride to Bike Week, right?" "Always do." "Why won't Dad let me go?" She stepped toward me, still
slapping the wrench against her open palm as she walked. "Things get a little wild," she chuckled. "Well, a lot wild, really. Not the kind of thing Red wants his little girl exposed to." "But I'm not a little girl anymore," I huffed, crossing my arms over my chest again. Stacey's gaze shifted down to my cleavage, the curves of my perky titties made more obvious as I pushed them together. "No." The
pink tip of her tongue darted out to trace her bottom lip. "You are certainly not a little girl anymore." "I want to go," I said. She was still licking her lips and staring at my tits, and I couldn't believe I'd never seen it before. Stacey was a lesbian, and she hung out with Dad and his friends because she was just like them in more ways than one. "Do you think…" I took another step toward her, innocently toeing the floor between us. "Do you think
maybe you could help me convince him to let me come?" "I don't know." She drew her hand up to massage her tilted neck. "He'll listen to you," I said. "He always listens to you, and I really think if I had you on my side…" For a moment she seemed to be thinking about that, her gaze finally traveling away from my chest until her eyes met with mine. "So you want me to talk your dad into
letting you ride with us?" she surmised, taking a step toward me while still palming the torque wrench as if it were a weapon. I watched it fall into her hand, fingers curling tight around the handle as she lifted it up and dropped it again. "Would you?" "Hmm," she pursed her lips. "And if I do, what's in it for me?" "I don't know." I started to
shrug. She was standing right in front of me, slap, slap, slapping the wrench. "What… what would you want? I could wash your bike for you." I said. "Every week…" "I don't think so." Stacey shook her head. "What else ya got?" "I have $600 in the bank. Maybe it'd help you get some parts for your bike?" The sharp titter of her laughter took me by surprise. "I don't want
your money little girl." "What then? What will it take to get you on my side?" "How about…" Her eyes traveled down to my cleavage again, lingered for a moment and then went lower. "How about you take off those panties and let me have a look at that pretty pink pussy of yours?" My eyes widened as she returned her gaze to mine, a smug smirk toying at the corner of her
mouth. "You want to see my pussy?" "For starters," she said. "I've caught a few glimpses in those short little shorts you like to parade around in. I want to see it without the restrictions." "Okay," I gulped. "So I take off my panties, and then what?" I'd never imagined Stacey propositioning me before, but as I watched her tongue trace her bottom lip a tingle of excitement
warmed my belly. The way she was handling that wrench, I could only imagine where taking my panties off my lead and suddenly those panties were clinging damp against my snatch. "Take 'em off and we'll see." I hesitated, reaching down to loop my fingers through the elastic at the sides. "What are you gonna do to me?" "Whatever I want," she raised an
eyebrow and slammed that cold steel into her palm again. I tugged my panties down slowly, unlooping my fingers when they reached my knees and letting them fall around my ankles. Stacey watched, head tilted as if the angle would give her a better view, but apparently it wasn't enough. "I'm gonna need you to get up on the table and spread your legs so I can get a real good look."
I glanced back over my shoulder at the table behind us where Dad and his friends played cards and laid out maps to plot their travels. I walked over to the table and hopped up onto the corner, scooting back a little and dangling my legs over the edge. "How's this?" I asked. "Open wide," she said. "I wanna see your tight little pussy." I spread my legs and Stacey bent down in front of me, head tilted again like she was some kind of
pussy inspector checking out my snatch for quality. I watched her eyes glaze over a little, and then she reached out with her finger and stroked through my slippery folds before wiggling the tip around my dripping hole. "You're all wet." She drew her finger out and held it between us and my glistening juices ran down over her neatly trimmed fingernail. "And you're not very tight either," she said. "It looks like somebody's
been a very bad little girl." I might have been tight before Eagle rammed his massive cock into me, but I wasn't about to tell her about that. "Let's see just how bad she's been." Stacey tickled the nub of my clit with her fingertip and then traced down my slit again. She circled around the outside of my cunt and then jammed her index finger inside my while I watched in awe. "One finger's not gonna be
enough." She pulled her finger out and stiffened her middle finger beside it, then pushed them both into my folds slowly. "Two doesn't seem like enough either. You have been very bad." She quickly pushed a third finger into my cunt, which was now completely dripping with excitement, and jerked them in and out a few times. She was watching her own fingers glide in and out of me, or maybe she was just staring at my pussy with eager anticipation of my reaction. "Can you feel that?"
"Yes." "How does it feel?" She finally looked up at me, her amber eyes shining with deviance. "Do you like it?" I swallowed hard and nodded. I wasn't going to lie. I loved the feel of fingers in my pussy, and it didn't really matter whose they were. She pushed them deeper, all three fingers, and then closed her eyes to lean in and sniff softly. "You
smell sweet." Her breath whispered against my inner thigh, and I shivered, an act that made the muscles of my cunt contract around her fingers. "Ooh," she said, leaning back to look at me again. "You like my wiggling fingers in your pussy, but how about this?" Stacey pulled her fingers out and drew the rubber end of the torque wrench up to tease me. The bulging handle glided through my slick snatch almost like a dildo, but the
fact that it was something so foreign just made me wetter. It was cold and foreign against my slit, but I won't lie; it felt good and I wanted her to push it inside. She slipped it slowly inside me, twirling the ribbed handle in slow circles that felt so good I couldn't stop the ecstatic cry that escaped me. Stacey's eyes widened at the sound, and her mouth hung open just a little bit while she continued to slide the torque wrench inside
me. "You must really want to come on that ride to let me fuck you with this," she laughed. "How does it feel inside you?" "Weird," I said, "but good. Those little bumps feel amazing." "Yeah?" she twirled it again, pushing it in a little deeper and watching my face to gauge my reaction. "You've a lot of cock in that tight little pussy, I'd guess.
Never anything like this though." "No," I shook my head. "Dildos," I told her. "And you're right, a lot of cock, but never anything like this." She shoved the handle in to the hilt and I gasped as I felt cold metal on my hot, wet walls. Goosebumps prickled across my skin and I lowered my head back against my shoulders to close my eyes and enjoy the strange sensation of Stacey pushing the torque wrench handle in and out of my aching
hole. "Have ever had a woman go down on you before?" When she asked this, I felt the warm hush of her breath brush against my innerthigh, her open mouth hovering close to my clitoris when she spoke. The muscles in my stomach clenched and my pussy clamped the handle tighter in anticipation of her hot mouth closing over my clit. I breathed out the word, "No," in a near squeak, every muscle in my
body tensing with excitement. Her warm, wet tongue darted out to tickle the hard, aching nub of my clit, then circled slowly around before she clamped her lips down and started sucking on me like melting ice cream. She swirled her tongue in an amazing dance, her lips munching and the torque wrench pumping hard into my suddenly dripping snatch. I was so turned on and wet I could literally feel the warm juice splashing the
insides of my thighs. In my quest to win allies to my cause, I had never once imagined that would entail another woman tongue fucking my pussy. Her lips and tongue felt so soft, an amazing contrast to the cool, nubbed handle of the wrench gliding in and ramming my cervix hard. I lifted my head and looked down at Stacey between my thighs, her own eyes blissfully closed as she sucked and slurped. Watching her tongue slip
out of her sticky, puckered lips made me even hotter, and I knew if I kept watching I'd cum all over that wrench and her face. Even though she'd been in control from the minute she told me to drop my panties, I couldn't stop myself from reaching out and tangling fingers into her loosely braided, golden-blonde hair. I pushed her face deeper into my pussy, the lips of my cunt writhing against her desperate tongue and
mouth. She looked like a glutton at an all you can eat buffet, like she wouldn't have enough of me until she was licking the last drop of cum from my snatch. I would have held her there for hours, riding her mouth until I came and came again, but she ended the tease and looked up at me. The wetness of my cunt glazed her face, and though I'd tasted my own pussy on my finger before, I wondered how good I'd taste in her
mouth. She rose from where she'd knelt between my legs, gave the wrench a final twist inside me and then pulled it out. White cum bubbles shone on the black handle, and for a moment I was terrified that she wasn't going to finish me off. "Lay back on the table," she said. I did as she told me, scooting back and then dropping onto my elbows, still looking at her.
"All the way." There was a dominant edge to her voice, a warning that if I didn't do exactly what she said, things would definitely not turn out the way I wanted them to. I dropped my elbows and lowered my back and head onto the table behind me. From that position, I couldn't see her anymore, but I heard the shuffle of fabric, the draw of her zipper and then her footsteps. Stacey climbed up onto the table
between my legs and lowered her naked body over mine. I had never fantasized fucking a woman before, so I had no idea how that would even work, considering she didn't have a cock. Imagine my surprise when she straddled my hips and began rubbing her slippery cunt against mine. The lips of her pussy were swollen with desire, and though at first I couldn't imagine I would feel much just from her sliding against me, it felt almost the same way her mouth had felt
slurping at my snatch. She moved slow at first, deliberately rolling her clit through my hole and then bouncing it against my own swollen nub. She squeezed my tits beneath the fabric of my nightgown, kneading hard with every forward movement. Each thrust increased her speed until she was bucking and riding, slamming her cunt so hard against mine it almost hurt. Soft, excited moans echoed from her, and I swear she
only rode me for five minutes before she was quivering and shaking with orgasm. When she looked down at me she was smiling, a naughty, teasing smile. "You're so fucking hot just touching you made me cum," she said. "And now you're gonna cum too." She lowered her body over mine and slid slowly down the table until her face was centered above my cunt. She opened her lips and
chowed down fast, lapping up her own cum in quick, darting tastes. She worked her fingers up inside me, one index finger from each hand, and then spread my cunt hole wide open so she could fuck me with her long, stiff tongue. "Oh," I arched my back and rammed my pussy onto her tongue again and again. "Oh god that feels so good." Her quick, flickering tongue wandered back up to my clit again,
lips suckling and tongue swirling with such skill I could feel the heat rising in my belly. She jammed two fingers in and out of my pussy, but they didn't feel near as good as the torque wrench gliding in and out. I soon forgot about the pleasure of that strange tool as she sucked hard on my clit and lashed her tongue out almost sloppily, but with such precision I felt ripples of orgasm course through me in hot, delicious waves.
"Yes," I cried out. "Keep eating me, please don't stop!" "That's right," she said between tongue lashings. "Cum for me, girl." Another expert swirl of her tongue and I knew the cum was just pouring from my pussy. Stacey wasted no time burying her lips and tongue deep inside me again to lap up every last drop in slow, torturous strokes. "Mm," she moaned, still licking. "Mm, god you taste so sweet." With a final slip of her
tongue through my folds, she lifted her face up to look at me. "So you wanna go on the ride?" she wiped the back of her hand across her mouth. I swallowed hard, but I could barely nod. My head was swimming from the best pussy-eating I'd ever endured. It was like she knew exactly how to tongue and suck, swirl and finger until the world melted away. Too bad she hadn't kept up with that torque wrench. I
could only imagine how good it would have felt to orgasm with that buried deep inside me. "I… Yes," I finally said. "I really want to go." "I'll convince him," she backed off the table and started to get dressed. I just laid there feeling triumphant, but weak in the knees. "You will?" She
glanced
back
over
her
shoulder at me and said, "You bet. I'll even let you ride with me, and you can sleep in my tent. That'll make him feel like you're safe." "Wow." I finally found the energy to sit up. "And if I sleep in your tent…" "You won't get much sleep," she shrugged. I grinned, almost shocked at how much I liked the idea of wiling the nights away with Stacey
between my legs. Maybe she'd even let me go down on her too. I hoped so. After all, I sort of owed her one after the most amazing orgasm I'd ever had. "Nice." My compliance seemed to please her, and with butterflies fluttering in my stomach I got up and found my panties, which had dropped near the garage door. I slid back into them and turned to Stacey.
"I'll talk to him as soon as he gets home," she promised. "You'll be on that ride with us, don't worry." "Thank you," I excitedly. "I owe you!"
squealed
She nodded. "Yes, you do. But I'm sure we can work out a payment plan we're both satisfied with." Stacey tinkered away in the garage all day, and occasionally I watched from the window.
Whenever I saw her bend over, I felt a tingle in my stomach and dampness between my legs. I wondered what she tasted like. Maybe one day I'd be lucky enough to find out.
EPILOGUE
As promised, Stacey managed to convince my dad to let me ride along with them to Daytona. He barely batted an eyelash when she told him she'd keep an eye on me. Everyone said he wanted to protect me from the guys he rode with, but
I wondered if Dad even had a clue just how much Stacey loved to eat pussy. She winked over her shoulder at me, and I swear I blushed! It was going to be one hot, wild ride cross country, and I couldn't wait to hop on the back of her bike! Suddenly, the road to Daytona seemed hotter than I ever dreamed, and I wondered just how naughty things would get during Bike Week.
got milf Sticking It To Mrs. Dewitt
Barbara Dewitt knew that at 43 she was still one of the most attractive mothers on the PTA. She'd always gone to great lengths to strut through the center aisle at school meetings, shaking her ass and ignoring the derisive stares of jealous mothers so exhausted they could barely be bothered to put on makeup, much less drag a comb through their wild hair. When she was a little girl her mother taught her that a proper lady never left the
house without first making herself presentable, but Barbie liked to go the extra mile. She'd always wanted to turn heads, to make the other women squirm in their seats when their husbands followed her tight skirt to the front row and watched her brush her hands beneath her thighs as she sat down and crossed one shapely leg over the other. The attention made her feel spectacular, even though most of the other women in town were
barely cordial to her unless they had to be. They had to know she'd fucked their husbands. She'd been propositioned so many times she could have filled an entire library of journals with bawdy tales of just how unladylike she was behind closed doors, but she never let on. She simply smiled and held her head up high, taking great pleasure in knowing she could have anyone she wanted, whether he was married or not.
Those old married men were getting older by the year, and with the youngest of her four children preparing to graduate high school in a few months, Barbie was actually glad she'd finally be getting rid of that crowd. If one more pouchystomached, middle-aged insurance broker in a crooked tie approached her in the parking lot and asked if she'd like to have a drink with him, she thought she'd be sick. Barbara DeWitt was better than that. She deserved more, but she lived in
such a small town and it was getting harder and harder to find anyone worthy of the prize between her thighs. Ignoring the crowd of milling mothers exchanging soccer stories outside the high school, Barbie made her way to her car and reached for the door handle just as someone called out her name. "Mrs. Dewitt?" Her stomach muscles clenched
and tightened, but the ever-ready smile she always kept on standby was already drawing at the corners of her mouth when she turned around, flipping the blonde puff of curl over her shoulder. She was actually relieved to see eighteenyear-old Ethan Hardwicke rushing toward her, waving a piece of paper in his hand. "Mrs. Dewitt," he called again, picking up the pace. "Hello, Ethan," she leaned back
against the car behind her. "Hi, Mrs. Dewitt," he gulped in a deep breath to steady himself as he approached. "Sorry to run after you like that, but my mom asked me to give you this if I saw you." He held the paper in his hand out, his wide eyes narrowing as she tentatively reached to grab it. Barbie had known Ethan since he was five-years-old, and though the first thought that came to her mind as she looked him up and
down was the plump, awkward little boy with coke-bottle glasses hedging his way anxiously toward the pool at Aimee's sixth birthday party, the second thought she had was how nicely he'd shaped up over the years. He'd been playing football since the eighth grade, toning his baby fat into lean, hard muscle. He had to be over six-feet tall, she figured, her gaze rolling up the length of his legs, pausing for a moment on the
taut stomach beneath his shirt and then lifting to appreciate the broad chest and shoulders at eye-level with her. Ethan's choice to wear contact lenses had also been a smart one, removing those magnified lenses from his soft blue eyes and showing off the long lashes that fell over the tops of his cheeks every time he blinked. "Oh, that's all right, Ethan." She smiled and reached out for the paper in his hand. "What is this?"
"It's her pumpkin pistachio bread recipe," he explained. "She said you asked for it after the rotary club breakfast last month." She hadn't really asked for it, at least not on purpose. David Hardwicke had been trying to coax Barbie into meeting him on his boat when his wife Rose approached. The first thing that came to mind at the time was complimenting Rose's pumpkin bread, and they'd ended their conversation with a promise
to trade recipes the next time they saw one another. Barbie hadn't given it a second thought, but apparently Rose had thought about nothing else since. She reached out and gently grabbed the paper. "You be sure to tell your mother I said thank you, Ethan." "I will, Mrs. DeWitt." Barbie flashed him another sweet grin as she folded the paper
in half again and tucked it into her purse. David Hardwicke had fucked her plenty over the years, always coming to her with complaints that Rose didn't enjoy having sex. And no wonder; David liked it rough. Barbie had always liked that about him. For a fleeting moment she wondered if Ethan was anything like his father in bed, and when that thought hit her mind, she was surprised to feel a warm rush of
blood flush into her cheeks. Was that shame, or intrigue, she wondered, lowering her gaze? Either way, he was more than half her age, and she couldn't imagine he'd find her attractive anyway… even if his father had said she had the most beautiful cunt he'd ever slipped his tongue and cock inside. She'd done everything in her power to keep herself tight over the years, and she'd always taken great pride in the
compliments her efforts had won her. "Well, thank you, Ethan," she nodded, turning back toward the car and lifting up the door handle. Ethan lingered for a moment at the edge of the car, waiting until she'd slipped inside before offering her a nod and turning back into the parking lot. She watched him walk away, tilting her head as she admired the snug fit of his jeans cradling his tight ass. His father had
had a nice ass once too. She sighed and dug through the middle pocket of her purse to find her keys. Jamming them into the ignition, she turned, but it only clicked. Furrowing her brow, she held her breath and turned again, but nothing happened. "Shit!" she muttered under her breath. "Shit!" Barbie sifted through her purse for her cell phone, drawing it out
and auto-dialing her husband, Peter. It went straight to voicemail before she remembered he'd said that morning he would be going out of town on business again. Peter was always away on business, so that was nothing new, but sometimes it really bothered Barbie. Especially since the kids were all growing up and she found herself spending more and more time at home alone. Leaning back in the seat, she
tilted her head against the rest and closed her eyes. Her oldest son Rick lived two hours away and the twins, Kyle and Dean, were both living on campus over ninety miles from town. Aimee had gone camping with a group of her friends. Alone again… Another sigh escaped her and she reached over to try the ignition again. Click… and nothing. She slapped her hand against the steering wheel and cursed again. It
was just like Peter to go out of town when she needed him. Their entire marriage had been one out-of-town trip after another, and Barbie knew he didn't take those trips alone. It was one of the reasons she'd never felt guilty about straying, but it didn't make her feel any better when he was gone and she was left stranded in the high school parking lot. Behind her she could hear the crunching gravel of car after car
leaving the school, and it was only a matter of minutes until she was sitting there alone in the dusky orange glow of sunset watching the parking lot lights click on one by one. It was a four mile walk home, and before she even opened the car door to step out onto the pavement, her feet ached. But what else was she going to do? Her entire family was out of town, and it wasn't like she could call up any of the men
who'd gladly done her service in the past. Their wives would never understand. There wasn't even a cab company in town, and she certainly wasn't paying $40 to call one in from the city just to drive her four miles. Maybe she'd get lucky, she thought. Maybe someone would be kind enough to stop and offer her a ride. She'd be so grateful; she'd offer him anything, no matter how pouchy his stomach was.
Reaching for the door handle, a knock on the passenger's side door startled her and she let out a small squeak before lifting her head to see who it was. Ethan Hardwicke bent to peek his face in the window, his perfect brow wrinkled with concern. "Everything okay, Mrs. Dewitt?" he called through the glass. She reached for the button on the panel at her arm and rolled down the automatic window. "My
car won't start." "Oh no," he frowned. "You want me to take a look?" She shook her head. "I tried to call Peter, but he's out of town on business. I'll probably just have it towed back to the house and let him deal with it." "Well," he started, glancing back over his shoulder at the only car left in the parking lot besides hers. "I could at least give you a ride home."
"Oh, I couldn't ask you to do that, Ethan. You've probably got to be home yourself. I wouldn't want you to go to any trouble for me." "It's no trouble, Mrs. DeWitt. Come on, I'll give you a ride." His soft smile reminded her for a moment of his father again; they had the same eyes, the same delicious lips. She grabbed her purse, jerked the keys from the ignition and locked the car before following
Ethan across the parking lot to his Ford Mustang. Like a gentleman he opened the passenger's side door for her and closed it before walking around to get behind the wheel. It was surprisingly meticulous inside the car; not like her own boys' cars, or even Aimee's for that matter, which always seemed to be littered with soda bottles and fast food wrappers. Ethan started up the car as Barbie drew the seatbelt across her
chest and settled back into the seat. "This is a nice car, Ethan. You must have worked very hard to get it." "Thank you." He grinned with pride. "I worked two summers over at the lumber yard to save up for it. My dad matched me dollar for dollar on everything I saved." "Your father is a good man," she nodded, resting her hand on the dash as he pulled out of the parking
lot. Ethan turned onto Main Street and merged with traffic as she relaxed and glanced back over her shoulder into the backseat. She wondered how many girls he'd had in the backseat, hands up their shirt and firmly squeezing their perky young tits as their heavy breathing fogged the windows. She'd lost her virginity in the backseat of Peter's car, but with so many other things to occupy their time, Barbie
wondered if kids even made out in the backseat anymore. "I really appreciate this, Ethan," she broke the awkward silence. "Aimee's camping with the Grants and the twins can't be bothered to come home unless they need their laundry done." An uneasy laugh caught in the back of her throat. "It's not a problem at all," he said, glancing across the car at her for a moment. "I would have felt real bad if you'd gotten stranded, so
I'm glad I was there to help." "Me too." The silence returned, stifling the air between them as he crawled the streets, weaving in and out of traffic cautiously. She thought several times about asking him where he planned to go to college and whether or not he thought he might get a football scholarship, but every time she looked across the car at him all she could think about was how attractive he was. Not a line or
wrinkle on his face, not a bulge of fat anywhere on his body. Unlike his father, who's blond hair had been silvering the last couple years, Ethan had dark brown curls that he'd let grow just enough to give him a daring, tousled look. Her gaze lingered again on his lips and she found herself wondering what it might feel like to kiss them. Would it be different because he was so much younger, still gripped in the throes of
adolescent inexperience as he awkwardly tilted his head to accommodate her hungry mouth. She imagined her flat palms rolling up the muscles of his stomach, caressing his hard nipples through the fabric of his shirt as he pushed his bulging crotch against hers in aching desperation. Barbie's abdomen clenched with tingling anticipation, the fiery prospect of his hot, young body against hers igniting something
inside her she hadn't felt for a long time: lust. "I'd like to invite you inside for a piece of pie when we get back to my house," she said. "As a thank you, and before you even start to say it, I absolutely won't take no for answer, young man." Ethan chuckled, and grinned across the car at her. "I've never been one to say no to pie, Mrs. DeWitt."
"Good!" Once she had him inside, she'd find a way to get him out of his clothes, and then she'd give him a real proper thanking. It had been ages since she'd had a good, stiff cock inside her, and more than twenty-five years since she'd had one as young as Ethan. The tingling warmth in her stomach drifted lower, through her womb and into her cunt, which grew wetter between her thighs the
more she thought about seducing the young man. By the time he pulled into her driveway, she was sure the back of her skirt would be dripping with want. "It's so lonely here now with all the kids gone," she told him, leading him up the walkway to the front door. "Well, Aimee's not gone yet, but sometimes it feels like she is. She's always running off with her friends and it seems like Mr. DeWitt is hardly ever home at all
these days." "It makes me sad that Mr. DeWitt leaves you alone like this," Ethan lamented, following her through the front door and stopping to take his shoes off to leave them on the mat. "If I had a wife half as pretty as you, I'd never leave her home alone." "Oh, Ethan…" The giggle that escaped her was almost schoolgirlish, and she was sure if she stopped to check her reflection in
the mirror, she'd be blushing too. But how much of that blush was from his compliment, and how much of it was the naughty thoughts that had been running through her mind the entire ten minute trip home in his car. "You're such a sweet boy," she said, turning to pat his cheek. "Now I baked two pies today. Cherry and peach. Which do you prefer?" "That's a real tough decision," he ducked through the hallway and
into the kitchen as she flipped on the lights. "You're a growing boy. How about a piece of both," she said, gesturing for him to have a seat in one of the stools nestled beneath the kitchen island. Before he could protest, she had both pies out on the counter and was already carving into the cherry. She gently laid two fat slices side by side and stepped back as she slid it in front of him.
"Whip cream, dear?" "Yes, please," he nodded. She walked to the refrigerator and took out a can of whipped cream and a pitcher of milk. She shook the aerosol can in her hand as she made her way back to the island, almost laughing at the way her breasts bounced up and down inside her bra with every shake. Ethan was watching them too, she noticed, but instead of drawing
attention to it, she set the milk down and leaned over his plate, spraying a generous helping of whipped topping over his pie. Flecks of white cream splashed up to dot her cleavage and neck, and she found herself laughing as she stepped back to look down at the small mess she'd made. "I swear," she shook her head. "I'm such a klutz." "No… You're just fine, Mrs.
DeWitt." Ethan had already grabbed a napkin from the counter and was reaching over to brush away the cream as she leaned into him. His hand lingered there between her cleavage for a moment and then he drew back, his cheeks raising red splotches of heat from his embarrassment. "It's okay, Ethan," she said, holding her hand out and wrapping her long, perfectly-manicured fingers around his wrist. She drew
his hand and the napkin back up to mop the mess away, and he lifted his gaze to meet with hers. "It's okay if you want to touch me. You do want to touch me, don't you?" He swallowed, and she watched the Adam's apple bob up and down as he leaned back to make sure he understood what she was asking. The slow nod that followed almost seemed to flow against his will, but there was no denying the hunger she saw burning in his eyes.
"Did you really mean what you said?" she asked. His awkward hand lingered atop her breast, and she rested hers over it in an attempt to quell his nervousness. "About me being pretty?" "You're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen," he swallowed again, but this time he didn't allow his eyes to roam away from hers. He held her stare, as if that gesture was enough to convince her of his sincerity. "All
the girls at school… I don't know, they're cute and all, but they're like stick figure clones that refuse to feed their bodies and allow them to fill out like a real woman's body should, but you…" He paused for a moment, as if he had to process the rest of that thought before sharing it with her. "Your body is amazing. So soft, all curves." His resting fingers squeezed her breast tenderly beneath them and Barbie drew a strangled breath through clenched teeth.
She couldn't believe how easy this was going to be. She'd at least expected him to insist he had to get going, but there he was sitting in front of her, his curious hand kneading her tit beneath it. "No disrespect, Mrs. DeWitt, but your husband is a fool to leave you here all alone like he does." Barbie lifted his other hand up to rest on her cheek, tilting her face into his palm while stroking his fingers with hers "You're a sweet
boy, Ethan." She closed her eyes and kissed his fingers. "Such a sweet, sweet boy." The caress of her lips urged him forward, and when Ethan's mouth found hers it was in a crushing, dominant kiss that took her by surprise. Firm and wet, he pushed his tongue between her teeth and darted out to tag and tease her own. It had been years since she'd been kissed that way, and when he rose from the stool still kissing her and
drew her body close to his, Barbie felt like she might swoon. His eager hands circled her waist and snuck down to cup both cheeks of her ass, instigating her even closer with a soft squeeze. He began drawing at the fabric of her skirt, hiking it up until he'd gathered it in bunches around her waist. Another unexpected gasp escaped her when he gripped the lace of her panties and jerked them down in a quick tug. Positioning his hands under
her thighs, he lifted her off the floor and set her on the stool, allowing her skirt to trail out behind her. The stool put her at the perfect height to accommodate him, but Ethan had other plans. Sliding his hands as he squeezed down the length of her thighs, he bent down in front of her and for a moment he rested his face against her leg. He breathed her in, leaning back to admire the slick and swollen lips of her pussy begging to be kissed.
As if he could not refuse the silent offer, he closed his eyes and leaned in, tongue sweeping out to glide upward through her folds. When he arrived at her clit, he closed his mouth around and gently sucked, all the while pushing her thighs further apart to gain deeper access to her sweet cream pie. Barbie could not believe how quickly it had all transpired, from fantasy to reality, his warm tongue danced blissful circles around her
cunt. She rolled her head along her shoulders and let out a soft, appreciative moan. Inspired by the sound, Ethan tongued deeper, lapping and wagging as Barbie wriggled and grew wetter and wetter under his perfect mouth. She couldn't even remember the last time she'd had her pussy eaten like that, and he was just a kid. Most of the men she'd been with over the last few years were lazy; she'd even go so far as to call them selfish. They'd much rather stuff their cock
in her mouth than go down and make sure she got off too. When she felt his probing fingers slide into her hole, Barbie cried out and pushed her hips forward. The stool rocked beneath her, and Ethan drew his face away long enough to enjoy a soft chuckle before diving back in to lick and finger her like a real champ. She was beginning to reconsider her original assessment about how much time school boys had for sex
in a world obsessed with digital connection. Ethan Hardwicke certainly seemed to have spent plenty of time practicing his oral skills. She wondered if he'd spent as much time working perfecting his other techniques, but before she could delve too deep into that thought, she felt the muscles inside her begin to clench and shudder as warm waves of orgasm rolled through her. "Oh
Ethan," she
murmured,
dropping her hand down atop his head and clenching her fingers in his hair. She pushed him deeper and he wiggled his face back and forth between her lips to cover himself in the gush of her juices. "Ethan, you're so good at that… Oh my god. Oh yes, that feels so good." Muffled through the forward thrust of her hips as she bucked and inched herself closer to his mouth, Ethan's voice came out muffled and flecks of saliva and pussy juice
dotted her quivering thighs. "I told you I really liked pie, Mrs. DeWitt." Diving fingers plunged through the pillowy wet warmth of her depths, reaching in to tickle and probe while he continued to satisfy her with his mouth. "I never expected…" Another surge of electric delight shot through her and she grasped the countertop with her free hand, knocking over the can of whipped cream in her haste to steady herself.
"Oh god, yes! You're a good boy, Ethan," she cooed. "A very good boy!" Grinning, the drew his head back to look up at her, obviously pleased with himself. "May I fuck you, Mrs. DeWitt, please? I'm so hard right now, I think my pants might bust if I can't get inside you." He was so polite, asking her permission that way. She couldn't remember a single man she'd ever been with asking if he could fuck
her. She lifted his chin, drawing him upward until he was standing in front of her. Slow, but eager hands drew the leather strap of his belt free and the buckle jangled and shook against the loop of his jeans when she unbuttoned and unzipped him. The head of his hot, young cock poked out the top of his boxerbriefs, swollen purple and bulging with need. She reached out to brush her fingertips along that fat mushroom, wiping the drop of precum from his tip and lifting it to her
tongue to taste him. His salt on her taste buds made her shiver, and though she could have done wonders to that boy with her mouth, she wanted him inside her. After all, he had asked so nicely and he had said please. She yanked the waist of his jeans down over his ass and leaned back to appreciate the size of his cock. It was thick and long, longer than his father's, that was for sure. And if he was even half as good with his dick
as he was with his mouth, Barbie knew she was in for a wild ride. "Have you ever been with a woman before?" she asked, gripping him in her hand and slowly stroking her fingers up and down his length. Ethan closed his eyes and swallowed hard, his body instinctually leaning closer to her touch. "I've been with a few girls." When he spoke, there was a quiver in his voice. "Never a real woman though," he added, the catch of his
tone at the back of his throat making Barbie grin. "Well then," she purred, tugging his cock gently to urge him forward, "let me be your first real woman." Still gripping him, she circled the head of his shaft around the wet opening of her gash to moisten him for entry. Once he was dripping, she smoothed the lubrication own his length and then positioned him at the entrance of her cunt. Ethan eased slowly into her, pushing apart
those tight walls she'd taken great care to keep strong over the years. He would never be able to tell she'd had four children. No one ever could. Once he was buried balls deep inside her, he bent down and brushed his mouth against her cheek, whispering softly, "You really are the most beautiful woman I've ever seen, Mrs. DeWitt." "Ethan," she breathed his name,
and he drew himself back so he could slide his girth into her again. Barbie positioned her hand on his tight stomach, delighting in the strong muscles that flexed and rippled with every thrust of his thick cock inside her. Her other hand circled around his back, gripping and squeezing his ass as he pumped and drilled himself through her walls. "You're so tight," he marveled.
Barbie closed her eyes and let his powerful thrusts carry her away to a time and place she hadn't been in decades, a place where she felt not only wanted but beautiful and appreciated. Every slap of his cool balls against her ass, every plunge of his thick young dick spurred her closer and closer to heaven, and when he picked up speed, pounding harder and faster, Barbie's cries grew louder, more appreciative, more jumbled. She could barely even form his name on her lips, and
when he darted his tongue out to tickle her ear, a tingling wave of ecstasy swept through her entire body. "You're beautiful," Ethan told her. The stool rocked on the floor beneath them, threatening to topple over, but Barbie didn't care. Let it fall, let their bodies fall. Ethan would crush her to the floor and driller her into the tiles before all was said and done, but she wanted
him to. But Ethan didn't want her to fall, so he gripped beneath her thighs, still holding himself inside her, and hoisted her body upward against his. He moved slowly, somehow managing to thrust inside her with every step as he made his way to the living room and laid her down beneath him on the sofa. As he fell in atop her, stretching himself through her depths, Barbie could more easily rise up to meet and accept him. He quickened his
pace again, slapping his hips against hers, his sack against the edge of her ass. He was going to devour her with his eager mouth, which danced across her neck, lips tasting, tongue teasing as he suckled and tasted her flesh. Barbie buried her face in his shoulder, breathing him in and sighing as the sweet scent of youth and musk filled her senses. Not even as a young woman had she ever been fucked so well, given the
proper attention she needed to feel completely fulfilled, and maybe that was why she'd spent so much of her time bouncing from lap to lap. She'd been searching, seeking, but she would search no more. She didn't think it was possible, but Ethan's strokes pounded harder, faster, the slap of his skin against hers echoing through the quiet living room like clapping hands applauding the most amazing sex she'd ever had.
"Keep fucking me, Ethan," she pleaded. "Fuck me until I cum." "I want you DeWitt."
to
cum, Mrs.
And the way he kept calling her Mrs. DeWitt… something about that formality made the forbidden nature of what they were doing burn hotter in her belly. If he kept up at that pace, it wouldn't take long before she reached her peak again and trembled into a warm puddle underneath him.
She lifted and stretched her leg up over the back of the couch, allowing him even deeper access and when he began to slam that throbbing fat head against her cervix, Barbie wailed under every hammer. The muscles of her cunt gripped and squeezed him, luring him in deeper with every thrust. "Yes, Ethan! Just like that." "Does DeWitt?"
it
feel
good,
Mrs.
"Oh yes," she cried. "It feels divine. So divine!" Every shocking pound brought her closer and closer, making her rise up eagerly to take all of him again and again, and when she finally let herself go, her entire body shook with pleasure. She nearly screamed, it felt so good. "Keep cumming," Ethan rammed her, dropping so deep inside he seemed to touch her in places she didn't even know were a part of her.
"Cum for me, Mrs. DeWitt, again and again." "Ethan," she was barely able to say his name. "Ethan, yes! Ethan!" Even as the waves began to ebb off, the feel of him inside her was so intense she knew it was only a matter of minutes before he drew her right back to the brink. When Ethan's body began to stiffen, Barbie continued to writhe and glide him through her, wanting desperately for him to explode all
over her. His muscled tensed and his thrusts felt almost forced, as if he were holding himself back so he could commit every second he spent inside her to memory. "Now it's your turn to cum, Ethan," she rose up to kiss him. She could still taste her own juices on his skin. "Cum for mama, baby boy. Cum all over me." As soon a she started talking to him, it was too much for him to hold back anymore. He convulsed
and tightened, drawing back until he slid out of her. She leaned upright and grabbed his cock in her hand, sliding her fingers quickly up and down his length until a hot, sticky geyser of cum shot out the tip and sprayed all over her chest and neck. Some of it even landed on her cheek, and after the last hot rope of it spurted out, she laid back on the sofa with an exhausted breath and reached up to wipe her face. She licked that cum off the tips of her fingers while he watched, and then
took great pride appreciative smile.
in
Ethan's
"Now you've been with a real woman," she said. Ethan offered a single nod, still grinning as he said, "Thank you, Mrs. DeWitt." "Thank you, Ethan," she said. She'd never tell him, or anyone else for that matter, just how much she'd needed that or how empty
she'd felt inside before Ethan Hardwicke filled her with his fat, young cock. Even if he never came back to her, he'd ignited a desire inside her for something more, something only a boy his age could understand and fulfill: appreciation and need. She shooed him off to clean up in the bathroom, and went into the kitchen to wipe the cum from her dress. She'd have to send it to the cleaners, but it had certainly been
worth it. She was just wrapping tucking his two slices of pie into a Tupperware container so he could take it home when he emerged from the bathroom looking satisfied and more relaxed in her presence than he'd been when they first arrived. "I want you to take this pie home, Ethan." She took a step toward him, holding the container out for him to grab. "As a thank
you… for the ride home and… well, for making me feel like a real woman for the first time in a long time." Ethan looked almost shy as he shuffled toward her, reaching out to take the pie. "You are a real woman, Mrs. DeWitt." She lifted her hand up to rest on his cheek. "You're a sweet boy, Ethan." He leaned down and brushed his
lips against her cheek, but she turned her mouth to meet with his. He opened his lips against hers and Barbie caressed the tip of his darting tongue with her own. When she stepped back, it was her turn to feel almost shy underneath his powerful, appreciative gaze. "I'll stop by tomorrow and give you a ride to the mechanic to pick up your car, if you need." "That nodded.
would
be
nice,"
she
And she would be sure to thank him again, good and proper. "Good night, Mrs. DeWitt." He brushed a lock of hair from her cheek before stepping back and heading out the front door. "Good night, Ethan," she whispered. She listened to the door close and the sound of his car start up outside and she sighed to herself, "What a sweet boy."
BACKSTAGE PASS WORLD TOUR
BACKSTAGE PASS STICKY SWEET
The crowd surged forward as the first wail of electric guitar blared through the amplifiers stacked at the front of the stage. When the drums kicked in, the mass of sweaty bodies flashed in the brilliant flood of gel lighting and pressed forward in a tidal wave of obsession. It was so crazy, I thought for sure they were going to crush me, but then the flashing neon and pyrotechnic blaze signaled the band's arrival and all fear disintegrated.
I was in my element. Front row and so close to the stage I could feel the bass vibrating through my legs, in heavy thrombs that tingled up the length of my calves and caressed my thighs. It pounded underneath the drums, leading the guitars in a steady rhythm that never failed to make me wet. Bass players. Since I'd been old enough to masturbate, their rhythm had seen me through a thousand orgasms, brought on by my own
eager fingers while imagining my rock star of the week pumping my slick pussy until I cried out in release. I liked guitar players too, and drummers knew how to pound until you screamed. Lead singers had a way with words that often left me feeling weak in the knees, but there was something about the bass players that never failed to arouse me. This week my bass player's name was Nick, and he had no idea how
many nights I'd lain in bed whispering his name while gently probing the aching folds of my clit. Nick didn't know me from Eve, or any of the other bitches pressing their bodies against the stage and screaming for somebody, anybody in the band, to pay attention to them. He had no idea I'd left my apartment that evening with a single mission: to make my nightly fantasy come true with him. Half-lunged in front me on the
stage, his black hair was already dripping with sweat, and when he banged his head to the beat, beads flew forward and dotted the stage just inches from my reach. I watched him, fingers rolling skillfully over the strings, sliding up and down the neck. He stepped back, flipping his hair over his shoulders. His green eyes flashed fluorescent in the lighting, and then he glanced down at me. I smiled, bobbing my head with his perfect rhythm and mouthing the words to
the song they were playing, which seemed to amuse him. He winked and grinned, then leaned into the guitarist, Mikey, who swooped over to jam with him during the lead. Together they were a tangle of black and gold, their hair thrashing as fingers climbed up and down the necks of their guitars. Each time Nick came up for air, our eyes met and I knew my mission was one step closer to accomplished. From one song through the next, he
rarely wandered away from my side of the stage, but when he did he came quickly crawling back, occasionally dropping on his knees just beyond the reach of my outstretched fingers to tease me with every throbbing note. Before the encore, a finger tapped me on the shoulder, and I glanced over to meet eyes with a wall of man meat standing to my left on the other side of the partition between the stage and the
crowd. The guy was so big, I could have sworn I'd seen him on some TV wrestling program. He gestured for me to lean closer with his finger, but even as he bellowed over the screaming fans around us, it was near impossible to hear him. I shrugged at him, and glanced back toward the empty stage. He tapped again, this time with more urgency, and when I turned he was standing right in front of me. I
held
my
hands
up
and
scrunched my face to ask what he wanted. He gestured with his thumb over his shoulder, but I wasn't psychic. For all I knew I was getting bounced for being too hot for the front row. The lights dimmed again, drawing a screaming hush from the crowd that hurt my ears almost more than their piercing screams, but the hush became the least of my worries when a large pair of hands circled around my waist and plucked me up over the partition like I weighed no
more than a puppy. "What the hell are you doing?" I kicked and wriggled, but before he could answer the scream of guitar tore through the momentary silence and the lights blazed bright again. With one arm firm around my waist, the wall of man meat carried me out kick and squealing through the side stage exit. My blood was boiling when he finally set me on my feet, and I didn't care if he did spend his
weekends flying off the top rope to drop elbows on gorillas twice his size. "What the hell is your problem?" I slapped him across the face so fast, he didn’t know what hit him. "Who do you think you are?" "I'm Jon." He reached up to rub the red marks rising on his cheek. "Nick Summers asked me to fetch you." "Fetch me?" I played appalled
really well, but on the inside I was giddy with glee. "What are you? His dog?" "I'm his bodyguard." A half-grin quirked the corner of his mouth. "Do you want to go back to the hotel, or not?" "The hotel?" "Band's staying over at the Hyatt. There's a short meet and greet after the show, but Nick doesn't like to hang for the after
parties. He's headed straight over to the hotel once he's done shaking hands and kissing babies, and he wants you to wait for him there… If you're interested." Interested? Had this guy hit his head on too many doorframes? Of course I was interested, but I didn't want to look too eager. "Who's going to be there?" "Just you," he shrugged. "Or I can stay with you until Nick comes in, if you don't want to wait alone."
He waggled his thick eyebrows beneath a shaggy mane of strawberry blond hair, but it did nothing for me. I was focused on finding rhythm with my bass player. "I can wait alone," I said. "Suit yourself. The limo's out here. I'll ride over with you and take you up to his room so security doesn't hassle you." Jon the bodyguard led me out through the back doors of the arena
and into the alley behind. A white limousine was parked and idling at the end of the alley, and a crowd of anxious fans, both male and female hovered behind a brawny security guard who didn't even glance at Jon and me when we walked by. The women in that small crowd glared though, their catty eyes following as the limo driver opened the door and ushered Jon and I inside before closing it behind us. It was a five minute ride to the
hotel, five minutes during which I could feel Jon the body guard probing the short hemline of my black leather skirt with eager blue eyes. I ignored him and stared out the window, but uncrossed my legs to tease him with a peek at what waited in between them. Not that he'd ever get close enough to touch, but it was still fun to taunt him. The quick sound of his exhale made me grin at my own reflection staring back at me in the tinted glass. I'd heard about guys like him, roadies
and bodyguards who promised to get girls at the show backstage for a stroke or a blowjob. I'd only flashed him my panties as a courtesy. He wasn't getting anymore than that from me. "Do you do this sort of thing often?" I still didn't look at him. "Play fetch?" "Not as often as you'd think," he said. "Do you?" And when I didn't answer right away, he added, "Do this often, I mean?"
I turned my gaze on him, flashing my pearly whites. I had no shame in admitting, "As often as I can." This made him smile, and for the remainder of that five minute ride, he seemed to be turning the visual of my white lace panties over and over in his mind. Thank god he didn't act on it. I'm not that kind of girl! I don't need to blow bouncers and bodyguards to get with the boys in the band, and it wasn't
something I was planning on indulging in anytime in the future. We arrived at the hotel and he walked me through the lobby, straight to the elevator. We rode the elevator to the eleventh floor with a group of silent Japanese tourists, who remained inside the car when we stepped out. Jon the bodyguard guided me by the elbow down the hall to room 1112, swiped the keycard and turned the knob before pushing open the door.
He only leaned inside to flip on the light switch, and then stepped aside to gesture for me to enter. "He won't be long," he said. "Maybe half an hour, forty-five minutes." "Thanks." I slipped into the room and he handed me the key before closing the door. I was standing inside Nick Summers's hotel room, and the moment I realized it the butterflies in my stomach went insane. I walked slowly through the small
hallway, past the bathroom and peered around the corner into the room. A single queen-sized bed was centered between two end tables, and a black suitcase lay open atop it. Clothes and magazines scattered across the white bedspread, and a black electric bass guitar propped against the wall beside a portable amplifier. The room didn't scream party animal, or even rock star, and despite the rumors I'd read in all
those heavy metal rags about Nick Summers being wild, crazy and out of control, nothing in that hotel room seemed to support the claims. The room and its contents made him seem quiet, almost reserved, and I wondered what kind of lover he would be. They were all different, no two rock and rollers ever the same, so it was always a pleasant surprise to find out what each one preferred. I huffed down on the edge of the
bed, wondering what I'd gotten myself into. Did he even want to fuck me, or had he sent me back to his hotel so we could talk about poetry and long walks on the beach? It wouldn't be the first time a guy didn't want to fuck. Sometimes they just wanted to hang out and spill the contents of their weary soul all over the bed. Don't get me wrong. I have nothing against sensitivity and sharing, but I wasn't stupid. These guys weren't looking for lifelong relationships.
They wanted someone warm to slip their cock into before they crowded back onto the tour bus and headed off to another nameless town. I didn't have any misconceptions, and I didn't mind being that girl. When the keycard swiped from the outside, I was flipping through one of the magazines I'd found lying on the bed. I glanced up when he entered, the damp black locks of his clean hair hanging around his face like a half-closed curtain. He
dropped the knapsack off his shoulder and kicked the door closed behind him. He walked the small hallway, and I realized he wasn't wearing a shirt. Colorful ink decorated his skin in angels, demons, spiders and skulls. "Hi," I dropped the magazine on the bed and stood up. He lifted his gaze to meet mine, a slow grin curving the corners of his mouth. He didn't respond verbally, but stalked toward me and
immediately lifted a hand to the side of my face. The loose strands of my hair fell over his wrist, and I turned my cheek into his touch. His intense green eyes stared into me, and then he lowered his face close to mine. I leaned in to meet my lips with his. His mouth opened, tongue darting out to caress my lower lip before he drew his other hand up to cup my face and intensify the kiss. No talking… interesting.
This
could
be
I lifted my arms up around his neck and pushed up on the tips of my toes to accommodate his advance. The length of his hair brushed in against my cheeks, tickling my skin deliciously as the damp velvet of his tongue danced against mine. He dropped his hands from my face, still bent into that intense, silent kiss as his fingers began to fumble with the eyelet hook above the zipper on my leather skirt. Like a pro, he unhooked it and glided the zipper
slowly downward before sliding the skirt over my hips and dropping it to the floor. He stepped back, as if inspecting what waited for him, and reached out a finger to trace the lace pattern decorating my panties. That fingertip slid beneath the elastic, stretching the band outward before tugging them over my hips. They dropped around my ankles, and I carefully stepped out of my heels to avoid getting tangled.
I went down on my knees in front of him and positioned my hands on his hips. The front of his black jeans bulged with want, and I rolled my palm over the swell to tease him. Nick sucked in breath through clenched teeth, and closed his eyes. "Watch me," I said, reaching for the button. He opened his eyes, their intense green shining with excitement as he followed my movement. Lowering his pants
around his knees, I pressed my cheek against the warmth waiting for him inside his boxer shorts. I slid those down too, and leaned back on my heels to examine his beautiful cock. He was average in size, but the intensity I saw in his eyes as I lifted my gaze to meet his told me he knew how to make average feel like monstrous. He was already rock hard, as if he'd somehow been privy to my nightly fantasies for weeks and
couldn't wait anymore to finally replace my own sticky fingers with his throbbing dick. The head swelled purple and a glistening drop of excitement beaded on the tip. I leaned in and darted my tongue out to taste his saltiness, and he gasped as I swirled my tongue around his head before taking him into my mouth. I gripped his shaft in my hand and stroked gently up and down at first while rolling my lips and tongue over the soft skin, then gripped harder as I buried his cock
in my throat. Every movement wrought another whispering groan from the back of his throat, a sound that made me drip with anticipation. I drew back, still teasing his head with my lips as I gazed up at him through half-closed lids. He was watching me, his fingers curling and uncurling as if he was resisting the urge to tangle them in my hair and yank. He slid my lips up and down the shaft, wetting it
with my own spit before wrapping my fingers around him again and squeezing softly as I stroked. Nick glanced back over his shoulder at the chair behind him, then shuffled backward to sit down. He reached for my hand and drew me to stand in front of him, all the while studying the neatly trimmed triangle of blond hair between my legs. He touched the diamond belly button ring dangling from my navel, and then leaned forward to kiss my
stomach. His tongue danced along the smooth surface of my belly, and his fingers trailed the inner curve my thigh, increasing in pressure as he crawled closer and closer to my wet, aching slit. "You smell sweet," he whispered, and then plunged his index finger inside me so unexpectedly I whimpered a little despite myself. "Do you taste as sweet as you smell?" He withdrew his finger, lifted it to his lips and sucked away
the juices. He pushed me back and lowered me onto the floor in front of him. His damp finger tickled as it passed down over my belly, along my hip bone and then parted the slick folds of my pussy. He rubbed upward, stimulating my clit with his finger before leaning in to blow the place his finger had just aroused. My spine arched in anticipation as he drew closer, his hot breath preceding the slow part of his hungry lips.
The length of his hair tickled the tops of my thighs, intensifying the rippling chills that rolled across my flesh as he slid his tongue between the lips of my pussy and rolled it upward to tease the pulsing nub of my clit. My fantasies had been hot, but never this hot. He worked skillfully, his warm tongue swirling and stroking as he jammed two of his fingers in and out of me until I cried out in unexpected release. He lifted his head to grin at me,
and my juices glistened against his lips and chin. I held my hand out to stroke his face, and he leaned upward to meet me as I lifted toward his waiting kiss. I tasted myself in that kiss, the sweet, pungent aroma driving me wild. I wanted him inside me, all of him! "Did you like that?" he asked, tilting his head and peering down at me with hopeful, eager to please eyes.
I drew my lower lip between my teeth and nodded. Satisfied with my reply, he drew me upright in front of him and sat straight-legged with his back against the chair behind him. His cock sprung up from between his legs, the head still swollen, purple and eager to plunge my depths. I crawled across the length of his legs until I hovered just over him; he was bulging and ready. Gripping my hips in his hands to move me into
position, I felt the damp head of his cock brush the inside of my thigh before rising to swell against my opening. I slid myself down over his shaft, slowly as I enjoyed the clenching ache inside me that longed to be filled. He thrust his hips upward while driving me down hard to accommodate me, and I shuddered as he pushed deep inside of me. He grasped my hips in his hands and kneaded my flesh with his strong
hands as he guided me up and down his shaft, over and over in a powerful rhythm that reminded me of the way he played his bass. It was thick and heavy, full and strong, chorused by our carefully timed breath. I wanted to cry out when he slowed down to draw out his own release, pulling back until I could barely feel him and then driving himself back inside me. I whimpered when he lifted me up
and withdrew his cock, gesturing for me to turn around. I did as he silently commanded and climbed off his legs to turn my back toward him. I shivered as he hovered behind me, his stiff cock brushing between my thighs as if eager to return home. He stroked his hands down the backs of my arms, his chest warm against my back, and then pushed me forward until my palms touched the carpet in front of me. With my
ass in the air, he slapped the tender skin before smoothing his hand across the tingling burn, and then bending in to kiss the place he'd only moment's ago punished. He traced a pattern down the length of my spine, stopping to circle the dimples just above my ass with the tip of his finger. He kissed those too, and then drawing back into place behind me, reached between my thighs to guide his cock home again.
"You like it hard?" He leaned forward, pushing himself so deep inside me my pussy clenched with greed. "Yes," I gasped. "Harder, yes!" He grunted and pounded me from behind, the swinging weight of his balls slapping my ass with every thrust. He drove hard into me, ramming with wet, sticky slaps until I shuddered with the cry of sweet release. The sound of my pleasure excited him even more,
and as his thrusts grew quicker, pumping in and out of me so fast I wanted to scream, I knew it was only a matter of time before he lost his cool. "I'm cumming," he panted. "I'm cumming." "I want you to cum all over me," I said. "Yeah?" He pulled his cock out and I turned around to face him. He gripped the shaft in his hand and I
closed my fingers around his. Together, we pumped up in down until a geyser of of hot, white cum sprayed all over my belly and breasts. I rolled my hand across the sticky sweet offering and he rocked back on his heels, pumping slowly until the last of it showered down on me. "Mm," I purred, laying back to look him over in all his glory. "That was nice." "Nice?" he tilted his head.
"Hot," I nodded. "Good," he grinned. While I got dressed, Nick watched me slide the zipper of my skirt into place. I buttoned the eyelet, and smoothed my hands down over the leather before lifting my gaze to meet with his. He smiled again, a coy, almost shy grin, and I wondered if he was ever going to ask me my name, or if not knowing who I was somehow made it easier
for him to pick up his bass guitar and move on to the next city without looking back. He followed me to the door when I was leaving, his hand lingering on my shoulder as I turned the knob in my hand. We didn't say goodbye, but he leaned over and brushed his lips against my cheek in silent thanks before I slid out into the hallway. I think he might have lingered in the doorway to watch me leave, but I didn't look
back. Sometimes it was easier that way. I followed the muffled din of voices toward the end of the hallway where the elevators sat closed and waiting to take me down to the lobby. I pressed the button and crossed my arms while I waited. A familiar voice crept up on my right. "Early night?" I laughed, and glanced back over
my shoulder at Jon the bodyguard. "Apparently I'm too hot for my own good." "Nah," he chuckled. "You've got an ass I could tap for hours." I grinned and glanced back down the hallway of closed doors. "Hours, huh?" I cocked and eyebrow at him. He was big, and not the kind of guy I normally went after, but sometimes change was good. I glanced down at the bulging package tucked between the legs of
his tight jeans. "So… what are you doing for the rest of the night?" He stepped back, his brow wrinkled with confusion. "Me?" I shrugged, "Why not?" Maybe I was that kind of girl. "Why not indeed." He slid his arm around my waist as the elevator doors opened, and we stepped inside together.
BACKSTAGE PASS FACE TO FACE
To protect the not-so-innocent, we'll call him Tommy Drake, and just for the record, his reputation preceded him everywhere he went. It was like Tommy walked through life with a megaphone blaring his every move. For example, the very first time I met Tommy, I was actually with his drummer Kevin James at an after-party. He strutted into the trashed hotel room stark naked, his massive cock swaying in the wind like a deflated windsock
waiting for the right breeze to come along and blow. Try as I might to ignore the giggling host of girls that trailed after him, it was almost impossible to keep my mind on what Kevin was talking about when a hot blonde beach bunny dropped to her knees and started to tease Tommy's dangling jewels with her wellmanicured fingernails. Blondie's best friend hunkered down on the opposite side and gripped the shaft
of his cock in her hand, stroking while everyone in the room but the band watched on in a combination of abject horror and eager anticipation. I won't lie. I was on the eager side, leaning forward in my seat to watch his erection rise to the occasion. When his gaze caught mine, the tip of my tongue was tracing my bottom lip, an act that made him smirk just before he reached down and patted the
brunette pumping his cock as if she were little more than a good little puppy who'd brought him his newspaper in bed. "Put some fucking clothes on, man!" one of the guys called from the other side of the room. A chorus of uneasy laughter followed the command, and Kevin leaned his shoulder into mine saying, "Let's go back to my room." "Yeah, okay." I couldn’t tear my eyes away, even as Kevin helped me
to my feet. We nudged past Tommy and his entourage blocking the door, and I took one last look at his growing member before lifting my gaze to meet with his. There was an impish playfulness in his eyes that begged me to play along with the three of them, but then Kevin tugged me through the doorway and down the hall to the room he was sharing with his drum tech David. David was down at the hotel bar,
and Kevin said he wouldn't dare come back before the bar closed around three AM. He hung the "Do Not Disturb" sign outside the door and slid the deadbolt into place before turning to me. "Oh no," I held my fingers to my mouth and feigned distress. "I'm locked in." "That's right." He swept toward me and grabbed my hand to draw me near. "You're mine tonight, and I'm not gonna let you escape."
"I don't know." I stepped back and cocked my eyebrow. "You better cuff me to the bed… just to be safe." "You are a naughty, naughty girl," he chuckled. "After you cuff me, maybe you should spank me," I said. "I need to be punished." "Yow!" Kevin chased me to the bed and tackled me like a lion on the prowl.
He didn't have any handcuffs, so I settled for a pair of scarves, which he used to tie each of my hands to the headboard after stripping me of my clothes. Shirtless, he leaned back on his knees beside me to inspect the job. "You're not going anywhere for awhile." "Whatever will I do?" I cooed. "You're not going to hurt me, are you?" I made my eyes big, my lower lip jutting into a pout as I tugged
playfully at the cloth bonds holding me in place. "Maybe a little," he said. "But first I just want to look at you. You have an amazing body." He ran the tip of his finger along the curve of my waist, sending shivers rippling over the surface of my skin. I squirmed at the tickling sensation and arched my back. When he saw my reaction, he did it again, softer and more slowly. "Does that hurt?" He grinned.
"Yes!" I giggled. "Stop it." "You didn't say the magic word." "Please stop." "And if I don't?" The masochistic gleam in his dark eyes alerted me to the world of tantalizing hurt he was about to unleash on me. It wouldn't be the first time I'd been so deliciously tortured, but something about being tickled turned me off. Kevin reached for the edge of the
sheet and drew it gently over my skin, eagerly watching my reaction. I closed my eyes, and my mind flashed back to Tommy's huge cock dangling free for all to see in the other room. The way he'd looked at me as we walked through lingered in my memory while Kevin tormented me with every soft piece of fabric he could find, and though I felt the moisture slicking between my legs, it had nothing to do with being tickled. It was the memory of Tommy's cock, and the more I
thought about sliding the lips of my pussy down his fat, stiff shaft, the wetter I got. "You like that?" Kevin's fingertips brushed the short, dripping hair between my legs, and I opened my eyes as if he'd seen right through the lids and into my silent fantasy. "I like you," I murmured as he straddled my hips between his legs and lowered his weight on me. He was still wearing pants, and I had
no idea what waited for me inside them, but I was fairly certain he was no Tommy. "Take off your pants," I said. "You're the one all tied up." He leaned down into my kiss, muttering against my lips, "I'm the one giving commands." "But we can't fuck if you don't take off your pants," I pointed out. "I don't need to take off my pants to please you." His tongue
darted out to lick my lower lip before he opened his mouth into mine. "There are all kinds of things I can do to you that don't involve my dick." "Ooh," I closed my eyes again. "Like what?" "Like this…" His mouth trailed over my chin, tongue darting out to taste the salt of my skin as he suckled the hollow of my throat. He cupped my 38-Cs in both hands, kneading them like soft dough, and
I gasped when he squeezed my nipples between his fingertips. The rough fabric of his pants scratched against my bare skin while he moved, distracting me from the delicious torment his pinching fingers wrought upon my body. When he went down, spread my thighs and lifted my legs to rest over his shoulders, I almost sighed relief. His tongue traced the lips of my pussy before darting deep into my snatch in quick pulses that
made me moan with pleasure. He replaced his tongue with pumping fingers and turned the fluttering attention to the nub of my clit. He rolled around it slowly, lapping, flicking and sucking while jamming his fingers in and out of me. I pulled at the scarves he'd tied me up with, curving my hips upward to get closer to his mouth. Buried face-deep in my cunt, I writhed and twisted against his lips, bucking against his mouth until
waves of pleasure danced through me. He pulled his sticky fingers out and plunged his tongue inside to taste the river of cum streaming from my pussy. He didn't stop until I was almost screaming, the sound of my own hoarse cries surely echoing through the hotel, and that was when he drew back up on his knees and unbuttoned his pants. His already hard cock wasn't small, but he was no Tommy. In fact, as he teased the hole of my
slippery snatch with the swollen head, I found myself thinking no one in the world was as big as Tommy Drake. Kevin plunged into me, his soft balls slapping against my wet ass as he held my legs up and pumped his cock in and out until we found the perfect rhythm. But my mind was elsewhere, roaming back to the other room where Tommy stood naked as the day he was born like he didn't have a care in the world. I imagined it was my own hand wrapped around
his shaft, stroking until it grew and grew like some massive beanstalk in a fairytale. I'd had some big cock in my day, but no one that big! It was wrong to think about another guy's cock while Kevin was fucking me, and I knew it, but when I opened my eyes and studied the determined concentration marring his face, I told myself he was thinking of someone else too. Maybe his girlfriend back home, or some hot piece he'd fucked last
week. And even though I was thinking about Tommy, imagining him driving that massive rod so far inside me I could feel it in my belly, my thoughtful fantasies didn't equal Kevin's actions. He pushed hard, my hips aching with every thrusting response. I ached inside to be full, grinding harder, faster until he grunted like a beast, growling more fiercely with every slam. I wanted him to turn me over and take me from behind
so I could really feel him deep inside, but before I could express my desire, he stiffened on the verge of release and started to withdraw. The warm spurt of his seed shot over the tops of my thighs and belly, and one final squirt painted my tits a sticky shade of white. It dripped slowly downward as I leaned up to watch it trickle. Kevin hovered between my legs panting, the dirty blond length of his sweaty hair slicked against his
flushed cheeks. He leaned across me to untie my hands, and after rolling my wrists to return the circulation to my hands, I sat up cross-legged and swiped my fingers through the cum on my chest. "Sorry about that." He watched me, laughing for a moment and then reaching for the tissues on the bedside table. I'd never had a guy apologize for cumming all over my tits before. I didn't even know how to respond to
that, so I smiled and nodded and reached for a handful of tissue. While I cleaned up, Kevin stood up and pulled his pants back up over his waist. He left them hanging open while he fumbled through his leather jacket on the floor for his cigarettes and lighter. He planted one between his teeth before offering the pack to me, but I politely refused and tossed the wad of tissues into the trashcan on the other side of the bed.
A knock rose at the door, quickly followed by, "Hey man, let me in. It's me, Dave!" "Dave's not here," Kevin laughed at his own joking reference and as he turned his back I rolled my eyes. He bent down and grabbed my halter from the floor, tossing it onto the bed so I could reach it. He waited until I slid into my shirt before walking over and unlatching the door. A squat, chubby man with thin
brown hair and a beet red face strutted in, surveyed the room and then me before turning his attention to Kevin. "I met a chick in the bar downstairs who told me she'd pay me $500 and give me a blowjob if I introduce her to you." "What hooker?"
am
I,
your
fucking
"She's gonna give me the blowjob," he said, glancing toward me again.
Kevin dropped back onto the bed with a huff, reaching behind to absently stroke my leg. Plumes of smoke followed him, circling the air as he exhaled in Dave's direction. "I'm not interested. I'm busy." "It's okay if you want to go. I don't mind." I lowered my hand over top of his. "Five-hundred bucks is five hundred bucks." "Nah." He leaned back to rest between my parted legs. "I'm content here for the night."
Dave's eyes moved skyward before lowering over me again. "You owe me $500," he said. "And a blowjob." "Yeah, well, I'm broke and you can suck your own dick." Kevin's hair rustled against my bare skin when he dropped his head back, and I lifted my hand to run my fingers through it. It was prettier than most of the women I knew, naturally wavy and just the right shade of natural blonde. I drew it out to
examine the strands, momentarily worried that it was actually prettier than mine. "Go back downstairs and tell her you couldn't find me, or something, but don't fucking bring her up here. I'm serious man, I'll throw you out the fucking window if you do." "What if she's already out in the hallway?" Dave shrugged his shoulders up around his ears and Kevin sighed. "Dude, you've gotta stop doing
this shit. Bringing bimbos around to meet me at all hours of the night…" "Just meet her, for just a minute… please. Sign her T-shirt, tell her she's cute, let her suck my dick." I pushed Kevin gently away and pulled my long legs out from under him. Lowering them over the side of the bed, I felt both of them staring at the bare skin leading to my naked waist when I stood up. "I think I'm gonna go home," I said.
"No," Kevin protested, crushing his cigarette into the overflowing ashtray beside the bed. "Hang out." He grasped my hand. Dave's watery grey eyes were still locked on my bare ass when I turned sideways to face Kevin. He reached up to draw my face toward his, shooting a brief glance over my shoulder at the nuisance behind us. "Dave's just leaving and he won't bother us again. Isn't that right, Dave." "Man." Dave pinched his lips
tight intp a scowl. "You're a dick, man. You know that? A real dick." "Maybe you should sleep on the bus tonight," Kevin called after him as Dave ambled toward the door. He slammed it behind him, and before he could come back in, Kevin ran over and slid the bolt back into place. "He won't come back," he promised on the walk back to the bed. "You can have me all to yourself until morning." "Oh goody." I grinned.
Maybe the second time around would be better, last longer. Maybe he'd take me from behind. Maybe I wouldn’t' think about Tommy's massive schlong swaying in the breeze… Suddenly alive with possibility, and grateful that I wasn't the desperate little girl downstairs offering to suck Dave's dick for a shot with the band, I bounced up on my knees and fell against his chest. "Can we go again?" I purred.
"Only if you tie me up this time." He wagged his eyebrows and grinned, shooting a glance toward the headboard. "Now how are you going to fuck me like a naughty little dog with your hands all tied up?" "You are a dirty girl." Kevin's arms lowered around my waist and he lifted me against him. I playfully balled my fist against his chest, pushing back so I could look into
his eyes. "I'll tell you what," he started. "I'll make you howl like a bitch in heat, if you promise to take full advantage of me later." "I'll make you sorry you ever asked me to tie you up." I traced his bottom lip with my finger before leaning up to gently take it between my teeth. He snarled into my kiss, backing me onto the bed and dropping me into the tangle of sheets and pillows. He turned me over slowly and lifted my
ass into the air. Pulling me back into his groin, he rubbed himself against me and the button on his pants dragged cold across my naked skin. I glanced back over my shoulder at him and said, "You're gonna have to take those pants off, you know." Kevin lifted an eyebrow and drew his lower lip between his teeth. He didn't say anything, but rolled his pants down his hips. His half-hard cock dangled deliciously,
practically begging me to suck it until it was rock hard, but he had other plans for me. He traced his finger along the dimples above my ass, down through the crack until he reached the folds of my damp pussy. Circling the tip of his finger around the outside until it was slick with my juices, he slid it up prodded the outer rim of my asshole. I jumped forward, gasping unexpectedly. A low chuckle scraped the back of his throat as he
prodded deeper, the juice from my pussy lubricating his finger so it glided in and out with ease. I dropped my head forward with a soft moan, and at the sound of my pleasure his cock rose, bouncing against my ass cheek. While he fingered my ass, he stroked his own cock with the other hand, and I watched with secret delight from the window between my legs. "I love watching you jack off," I said. And it was true. Watching a
man handle his own cock had always turned me on, and I quivered with anticipation every time his hand jerked up the length. Curling his fingers around the shaft, his fist pumped slowly up and down. It grew harder with every stroke, until finally he pushed the bulging head against my pussy, parting the folds to ease his way back inside. I rocked back against him, shoving hard, but slow until I felt
his entire cock inside me pushing against my walls. I trembled with delight as he eased back with purposeful hesitation. He'd nearly withdrawn completely, and then he slammed back in with such force I couldn't control the cry that escaped me. He did it again and again, all the while fingering my ass as he pounded my pussy and reveled in my ecstatic cries. Yes! The forceful slam of his cock from behind was enough to
distract me from my earlier daydreams about the monstrous beast between Tommy Drake's legs. He withdrew his finger from my ass and lowered over my back while still pushed deep inside. He whispered huskily against into my hair, "Do you like the way my balls feel when they slam against your clit?" "Yes," I whimpered. "I like it when you slam me hard."
"Like this?" He banged me so hard I felt his hip bones bruise my skin. "Harder," I pleaded. Slam! And that time his balls really did slap forcefully just below my clitoris. "Harder?" "Yes," I gasped. "Harder. Fuck me harder." Kevin rammed me until my throat ached from pleading, and
even after I trembled with orgasm, he continued to slam and pound until I came again. He slowed his rhythm then, gently stroking in deliberate motions that prolonged the shuddering inside me. "Dirty girls always like it from behind," he said, drawing me up against him while still inside me. His hands slid up my belly, stopping to cup and knead at my breasts while he ground with that same almost torturous deliberation. "Is it
because you can't look me in the eye?" The strange tone of his question almost killed the mood entirely. Who talked about looking each other in the eye while they were fucking? Not total strangers, that was for sure. I eased forward until I felt him release from me, and turned around to face him. "It feels better from behind," I told him. "Deeper, like you're completely inside me." I lifted my
gaze to meet with his. Soulful eyes as dark as strong coffee stared back at me, and though I knew we'd never see each other again, I sensed longing in him for some kind of deeper connection. "It's like we're one," I said, raising my hand to cup his cheek. "The way bodies were really meant to fit together." I don't know if it was the words I said, or the gentle caress of my hand against his face, but Kevin's cock bobbed up in eager response to
those words, and then he descended on me with a hungry kiss. His tongue danced with mine, our lips curving together as he awkwardly maneuvered me back into the bed behind us. "No," I said, when I realized his intention. "Sit back against the headboard." He did as I said, and once he was comfortable, I straddled his legs, climbing slowly upward until I hovered just over his waiting cock.
He held it steady, guiding himself inside me, and when he began to lower his head back with eyes closed, I gripped his face and pulled him back to me. "Stay with me," I told him, pushing myself further down the length of his shaft. "Look into my eyes." A slow smile drew at the corners of his mouth and his dark eyes found mine. It was strange, something I'd never really done on
purpose before… looking into each other, and though I swear I'd never before allowed myself to get caught up in the romantic aspect of my lifestyle, there was something sweet about the fact that he wanted me to look him in the eye. Gently gripping my hips in his hands, he guided me up and down, thrusting and meeting my every movement. We never closed our eyes, except to blink, and never looked away, not even when rapture
shuddered through him and he stiffened to release himself inside me. We both laughed as he came, and I lifted my hands to his face, leaning in and finally closing my eyes to enjoy the slow, sensual movement of his mouth over mine. He was still inside me, and I could feel him growing soft, but we stayed that way for just a little longer, kissing, touching and staring into each other's eyes.
"You won't forget me now," he said, tucking a stray lock of hair behind my ear and then tracing the contour of my cheek with his hand. "But you'll forget me." I looked away, knowing it was better if I shut this down before it went too far. There was nothing fun in conversations about who would forget whom, or when we'd see each other again, and as hot as the sex had been, I didn't want to fall into some weird, depressing trap with a
guy I barely knew… a guy who spent 340 days a year out on the road fucking a different woman every night. "Hey." He reached over and drew my chin back toward him, trying to lift my eyes back to his, but I refused. "Hey, I won't forget you." "Kevin, just… don't." I started to pull away again, wanting to get off of him. I wanted to just put my clothes on and go home, crawl into my own bed and fantasize about
Tommy Drake's huge cock, but I knew that somehow during that intimate connection we'd shared, Kevin James managed to erase the image of Tommy's cock from my mind. "Things like this…" I shook my head. "This doesn't work beyond this room." "It could," he said. "How would you know if you didn't even try." "You barely know me," I protested. "I barely know you. You rocked my world, we had a few
beers, and then I rocked your world. We fucked, now we move on." Shaking his head, he let go of my arms and let me climb off of him. I would never admit this to him, at least not at that time, but I felt a little empty when he wasn't inside me anymore, like we really had connected on some strange level beyond the physical. I sat down on the edge of the bed with my back to him, hating how his strange emotional shift made me feel. I
heard the sound of his lighter spark and the cigarette smoke permeated the air between us. Fucking musicians! I wanted to scream! "So we fucked," he said, leaning forward and laying a hand on my shoulder. "So we barely know each other, and yeah, we both do this all the time. Tomorrow morning I'm going to go away, but this doesn't have to be it. We could see each other again. Maybe next time I
come to town." "Maybe." I still didn't look back at him. It wasn't like I hadn't made that same arrangement with other guys before. There were a few who called me every time they came near my town, but once they were gone, we didn't think about each other again until next time. I had a feeling that even if I got up and left right then, I'd be thinking about Kevin James for days after he left. Maybe even
weeks. "Hey," he leaned close, his lips lingering beside my ear. "I don't want this to be weird," he said. "I just… sometimes I want to connect. Not just walk away and forget your name… your face." His lips nuzzled my cheek. "You have a beautiful face. I don't want to forget it." I moved into his lips, lowering my head and closing my eyes. "I bet you talk like this to every girl you meet."
"I don't usually say much at all," he chuckled. His hand clamped gently on my shoulder, almost massaging as he rested his cheek against mine from behind. We sat like that for a long time, even after he crushed his cigarette into the ashtray. We said nothing, just sat together, his chest against my naked back, our cheeks pressed together. Finally, after what felt like hours, but was surely only a few minutes, he laid back in the bed and
pulled me into his arms. "Will you stay with me tonight?" he asked. I should have said no. I should have just gathered my things and made my way home, but instead I curled up against his chest and rested my head in the crook of his neck. I curled his hair around my finger, and he traced strange patterns gently over the skin on my shoulder in the dark. I breathed him in, almost as if purposely
memorizing his smells, because come morning he'd be gone, and I might never know him again. I couldn't help thinking, as I closed my eyes and listened to the steady lull of his breath… I should have hooked up with Tommy Drake. It would have been a lot less complicated.
BACKSTAGE PASS TALK DIRTY TO ME
Something weird happened to me after I fucked rocker Kevin James. He messed with my mind while I was naked, talked about feelings and confused me. You should never do that to a girl while your cock is inside her. It's just cruel, especially if she's not looking for a relationship. And like an idiot, I started thinking about relationships, some hopeful part of me secretly pining
to settle down. I stopped flashing my backstage pass around, opting to stay home and sate myself with chocolate ice cream, rather than feeding my rock and roll addiction like a good little groupie should. My roommate, who pretended not to approve of my obsession with dirty little rock stars, actually got worried about me. "You're getting bitchy, girl!" he snapped. "You need to stop thinking about what ifs and what will never
bes and get yourself laid!" I knew Frankie was right, but every time I glanced at the entertainment section of the paper to see who was coming to town, I just didn't care. Something was wrong with me, something I wasn't sure I could ever make right again, and that something was seriously interfering with my sex life! "Oh, you stop that, you naughty boy!" Frankie cooed. "No, you stop right now, Mister. All this nasty talk
is just making me…" He paused and clucked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. "Hold on. We'll continue this in a minute, Daniel. There's another call coming in… I said hold on!" I barely looked up from the bowl of oatmeal I was swishing my spoon mindlessly through while flipping the pages of Cosmo. Supposedly they had 101 brand new ways to make your man rock harder, but as I skimmed my fingernail through
the list, none of them looked new to me. I was about to turn into the upcoming swimsuit season's musthaves when the sound of my name caught my attention. "Yes, Rachel's here, but I'm on the other line and it's important business." Important business? Who was he kidding? "Can I have her call you back?" I shot Frankie and incredulous glare, and he bulged his eyes at me in silent plea. I waved him off and
shook my head, slapping the magazine closed and heading toward the bathroom. "Sure, I can take a message," I heard him say as I rounded the corner into the hallway. "Ahuh… Really? No way! I'm not saying that… Ahuh." I closed the bathroom door, muffling the high pitched protests from the other room. I leaned in to examine my face in the mirror. The small, dark circles under each of my
emerald eyes confirmed the sleepless nights that had been haunting me ever since my first encounter with hot little drummer boy, Kevin. Sure, he'd fucked me silly about half a dozen times before he left, but there'd been uncomfortable talk about feelings as the sun peeked through the hotel room blinds that morning. Kevin wanted to see me again… wanted to keep in touch, and though allowing myself to get
attached violated my personal number one rule, the way he'd brushed the hair from my face before kissing me goodbye was like pouring fire over the inferno of confusion raging in my heart. I didn't have the time or patience for a long-distance love affair with a man who spent more than 3/4s of his year on the road. I couldn't spend the rest of my nights moaning his name while answering my empty desires with my vibrator.
I unfastened the buttons down the front of my oversized nightshirt and slid the sleeves over my arms, allowing it to drop onto the floor at my feet. Slipping my panties down over my hips, I stepped out of the puddle of clothing and toward the shower. I turned the water on, glancing back over my shoulder into the mirror while waiting for the spray to get hot. I moved my hand down my back, resting on the subtle curve of my ass.
Exhausted, or not, at least my ass looked good. I gave it a gentle pat, and then slid into the shower. Hot beads of water bounced down over my face and chest, and I slicked it through my hair until it hung soaked down the length of my back. Eyes closed, I pressed my face against the tiled wall and drew in a deep breath. My mind was a hot mess, thanks to Kevin James. I hadn't gone out, despite a number of opportunities,
and my roommate Frankie was starting to get scared. "You shut those voices in your head right up, baby girl," he'd said, gripping my shoulder in his hand and giving me a little shake. "I don't care how many different ways 'til Tuesday that guy made you cream. He's a mistake waiting to be made." Kevin had made me cum, and hard. Not only had he gone down on me twice that night, but the slow, deliberate pound of his cock inside
me had made my entire body tremble. The mere memory made my nipples harden, and I lifted my hand to caress them. A shiver moved through me as my hands trailed over my firm stomach and hovered thoughtfully over my snatch. I parted the lips of my pussy with two fingers, slowly curling my index finger up to gently flick at the nub of my clit. I shuddered, eyes still closed and imagining Kevin on
his knees right there on the shower floor, lips parted and tongue at the ready to tease me until I screamed. I rubbed my clitoris between my fingers, hard and fast, but it wasn't enough. This was bad. It was always bad when I couldn't get myself off. I reached up and unhooked the shower head from above, and rolled the pounding beads down over my breasts. My nipples responded immediately to the steady hammer
of water, hardening like tiny pebbles. I squeezed and pinched the left one, a shiver of delight rippling through me at the tender pain. I continued to pinch my nipple while lowering the shower nozzle over my stomach and then halting at my clit. Threads of water hammered and pulsed, and I swelled with excitement. I was still thinking about Kevin as I rolled the showerhead over my wet pussy, shots of water spraying
into my snatch before drizzling down my thighs. I imagined those pulses were his tongue darting out to taste me, the heavier shots his fingers probing my hole. I closed my eyes, spraying myself dirty until at last the pounding shoots of water tapped me into convulsive orgasm. A wave of pleasure knotted in my belly, and I leaned into it, allowing the vibration of water to bring on rolling ripples of orgasm. I laughed, sinking into the deep
relaxation orgasm always brought to my soul. After my shower, which I managed to emerge from clean despite my dirty little escapade, I walked back into the kitchen in my bathrobe just as Frankie was hanging up the phone. He spun around dramatically and raced toward me, gripping my fluffy terryclothed shoulders in both hands to shake me. "We're going out tonight!" he
announced with a high pitch squeak. "I don't care what you say, or how you feel, you're going! And you're going to have fun, and you're going to dance your ass off, even if I have to lead you around like a little puppy on a leash all night and make everyone at the club spank you." Shaking my head, I stepped back. "Puppy doesn't want a spanking." "Then I suggest you have fun." He arched the thin line of his black
eyebrow at me. "Or else! Daniel is picking us up at 8:30. He's taking us to Club 52 Eleven, so put on your dancing shoes, baby girl! It's disco night!" I couldn't deny that disco music and dancing might be just what I needed to take the rock and roll edge off for awhile. And nights out with Frankie always went wild. It couldn't hurt. "I have just platforms…" I said.
the
pair
of
"That's my girl!" He squealed, jumping up and down. As he gathered his composure, he said, "Oh, btw, you got a weird phone call while I was on the phone with Daniel." "From who?" He shrugged. "I don't know. He didn't say." I stared at him incredulously, waiting for him to elaborate, and
when he didn't, I swept forward and slapped him on the arm. "What did he say?" "Oh, hang on." He stepped back toward the kitchen table and snatched up a piece of paper. "He made me write it down. I'm surprised the paper didn't catch on fire." Frankie passed the paper over to me and I squinted for a moment at his flowery scrawl before reading it out loud. "I've been thinking about
your sweet pussy for days. I can't stop stroking my cock." I glanced up at Frankie, my green eyes wide with curiosity. "He actually said that?" "He made me repeat it," Frankie nodded. "And he didn't tell you his name?" "Nope. He said he'd call back later so you could hear his voice, but he has no intention of coming clean."
"What did he sound like?" "I don't know." His shoulders drew up under his ears. "Deep voice, a little raspy… And before you ask me if it sounded like someone I know, the answer is no. I don't pay attention to your boy toys. You know they're not my type." "I know," I rolled my eyes. "If you wanted pretty, you'd just date me." "Exactly," he smooched his lips
at me. "Anyway, I wouldn't worry about it. You'll find out who it is when he calls back and he tells you about that time you bobbed up and down on his cock in the cramped bunk of some filthy tour bus." I scrunched my nose at him. "You make it sound so dirty." Maybe it was a little dirty. I'd been on a lot of tour buses in my day, crammed into tight quarters for a quickie before the bus rolled out of town. I read over the note
again, trying to see if my mysterious caller had left a clue in his quick dirty message. A lot of guys thought about me while they stroked their cocks. Maybe it was Kevin holding onto his promise to keep in touch, but finding the only thing he really wanted to talk about was fucking me? The muscles in my stomach clenched, and I crumpled up the note before tossing it across the kitchen into the trash.
Frankie said he didn't like pretty boys, but he was full of shit. Daniel was one of the most beautiful men I'd ever seen. His high cheekbones put most of the models I knew to shame, and there were about half a million women in the Golden State that would have killed for his chinlength natural platinum curls. At least he said it was natural, or maybe he said something else. It was often hard to understand anything he said on account of his thick Swedish accent. Most of the
time I didn't even care what he was talking about, just a little jealous that Frankie'd scored such a hot little number and had no intention of sharing. I spent a good deal of my night dancing with myself like Billy Idol amidst a shimmering flash of glittery beauties more interested in each other than the lone straight girl on the dance floor. I don't know how they all knew I was straight, but even the hot mocha-skinned
goddess whose lips cried out to be suckled shrugged off my tempting flirtations. By the end of the night I just wanted to go home and go to bed. Even as I realized Frankie and Daniel had no intention of sleeping quietly once we got back to the apartment, there was a pair of earplugs in my nightstand drawer with my name on them to drown out the sound of their intense passion. Packed tight together in the
backseat of the cab, I felt like I had a front row seat at the hottest peep show in town. Frankie traced his tongue up the long curve of Daniel's neck, suckling softly as he rose up to nip at the single silver hoop dangling from his ear. Daniel closed his eyes and drew in an exalted breath through clenched teeth, whispering, "Oh Frankie." "I can't wait to get you home," Frankie purred. "Oh the things I'm gonna do to you."
Daniel's hand gripped the top of Frankie's thigh, clenched fingers roaming higher. I watched those fingers crawl the length of Frankie's skintight silver pants, stopping to cup the bulge of desire pressing tight against the zipper. Frankie's hips jutted forward, pressing urgently against the promise of attention those fingers played. I glanced up and caught the cab driver's gaze, his hard steel eyes squinting as he watched the
intimate display in his backseat, but he said nothing. As soon as he realized I was watching him, he returned his eyes to the road and didn't look back again until he pulled up in front of our apartment building. Frankie could barely remove his lips from Daniel's long enough to hand me a wad of cash from his pocket. Coins spilled onto the sidewalk and into the gutter, but he didn't care. While I sorted out bills to pay the fare, they disappeared through the front
doors. I took my time, climbing the stairs instead of taking the elevator, and by the time I reached the opened front door of our apartment, the two of them had already disappeared into Frankie's bedroom, leaving nothing but a trail of shiny clothes in their wake. Closing the door, I turned all the locks into place and walked toward the kitchen to grab a drink before heading to the bed.
The answering machine light blinked four messages and I pressed the playback button. I skipped through two messages from Frankie's mother and stopped as the third message began to play. Heavy breathing scraped across the speakers, and I tilted my head to listen to the background noise. A thick collection of voices made it near impossible to make out what any of them were saying, much less recognize them. A soft click followed, bringing on ten seconds of
silence before advancing to the next message. It started to play, but the phone rang, cutting it off. I let it ring again, glancing at the clock on the wall behind me. 2:45 a.m.? Who the hell? "Hello?" I cradled the phone between my ear and shoulder. "Rachel?" "This is Rachel." "I know," he said. "Just the
memory of your voice made my cock stand at attention like a soldier." Frankie had been right; his voice was deep and just a little raspy, very distinct. Definitely not Kevin, or anyone I'd seen in the last month or so. It was the kind of voice I should have remembered, and for a moment I didn't speak, but closed my eyes and tried to place it. "Did you get my messages?" "If
you
mean
the
heavy
breathing on my answering machine, then yes." I walked toward the refrigerator and opened it up to grab a bottle of water. "And something about you thinking about my pussy while you jerk off." He chuckled, his sexy laughter giving me pause for a moment. I knew that laugh, but I was tired and my mind was having trouble placing it with a face. "Do you know who this is?" he asked. I hesitated. How offended would
my mystery caller be when he found out I didn't have a clue, or even worse, if I called him by someone else's name. "Nope," I went with it. "And I suppose you're not going to tell me either, are you?" Another laugh. "Nope." "So, give me one good reason I shouldn't just hang up." As I walked toward my bedroom, the erotic sound of whatever games
Daniel and Frankie were playing echoed through the walls. Soft moans, husky laughter, the jealous flutter of my own heart. I closed the door to muffle the din. Inside my room, I sat on the edge of my bed and unzipped my platform boots to slip out of them. I wiggled my toes, and they rejoiced at their freedom. "I can make you cum," he said as I lay back on the bed and raised my arms up over my head in a stretch. "I can make myself cum," I
replied. "And besides, my daddy always told me I shouldn't cum while talking to strange men on the phone." "You've never seemed like a girl who puts much stock in the things her daddy says," he said. "True," I shrugged. "How about a hint? Maybe tell me what you look like." He clicked his tongue three times against the roof of his mouth.
"If my voice isn't revealing enough, I'd rather you just lie back, close your eyes and imagine the best cock you've ever had." "Fine," I rolled onto my stomach and reached for my pillow. "Have your little game." "It's no fun if you're not going to play along." "I didn't say I wouldn't play." "Good," he said. "We can start
now. What are you wearing?" I couldn't stop the giggle that bubbled up inside me. Was this guy for real? "Well, I just slipped out of a pair of 4½ inch pink platform boots, but I'm still wearing my short little paisley dress." "Paisley?" It sounded like he snorted. "Don't tell me, Disco night?" He didn't give me a chance to answer, but went on to ask, "What color panties are you wearing?"
"White." "Lace?" "Lace trim bikini." I lifted the hem of my dress up and tugged the pink lace out to make sure. "White with pink trim." "Mmm," he breathed into the phone. "If I was there, I'd take them off with my teeth." The visual that wrought in my mind tickled me deep in the pit of
my stomach, but the Rachel in my imagination looked down to see Kevin planted firmly between her legs, the lace from her panties clenched between his teeth. What the hell was wrong with me? Fucking Kevin had been great, but he certainly hadn't been the best lay I'd ever had. It was the emotional residue, the memory of our bodies tangled, our eyes locked while he lifted me up and down his shaft in that slow, perpetual
motion. "You should take them off," Mr. Husky Voice said. "Slow." "I am taking them off." What was I doing? It wasn't like he could see me arching my back and sliding them down over my hips and thighs before kicking them off the edge of my toe. "What are you wearing?" "Nothing." "Really?" I felt my left eyebrow
arch. "Now that's not really fair, is it? How do I know you're telling me the truth?" "How do I know you really took your panties off?" "Trust me, I did." "Then you'll just have to trust me too." He was quiet for a second, and I could hear the soft pant of his breath. There was no background noise, unlike the earlier message he'd left, and I wondered where he
was. In a hotel room, somewhere all alone? "Take off your dress." I sat up, still cradling the phone between my ear and shoulder as I reached around to lower the zipper on my dress. I wondered if he could hear the slow draw of the teeth releasing as I slid it all the way down to my waist. I drew my arms through the shoulders and stood up, allowing the paisley polyester puddle around my feet on the floor. "I took off my dress."
"Now your bra," he instructed. I lowered the straps from my shoulders before sliding my hand back to unhook the eyelets. The elastic contracted, releasing my breasts with a slow jiggle. The cool air caressed my skin, hardening my nipples as the discarded bra dropped into my lap. I tossed it across the room and it hooked the doorknob. "It's done." "Good girl," he said. "Are you comfortable?"
I lay back in the bed and drew the sheets up around me before lowering my head onto the pillow. "Where are you?" "In a hotel room in Reno." "Of all the things you could be doing right now…" My voice trailed off into silence. "Gambling, drooling on strippers, fucking a call girl." "I wish I was doing you." A soft
click sounded in the background and then he inhaled. A smoker, I realized, as he blew a stream across the mouthpiece of the phone. "Is your pussy wet?" Without a second thought, my hand glided over my chest, along the smooth surface of my waist and paused to linger above the neatly trimmed triangle of hair above my snatch. I started to say no, but as I lowered my finger between the lips of my pussy, I realized that was a
lie. "Yes," I whispered, swirling my finger through the slick stickiness moistening my cunt. "Is your cock hard?" He barely breathed his response, "Yes." "I'm all hot and wet here and you're rock hard there… What a shame." "You've still got your finger in
the pie." He spoke those words slowly, the hoarse catch of his voice lingering on the word pie in such a way it made me shiver with anticipation. "How does it feel?" "Mm," I murmured, pushing my index and middle finger into the warm, wet hole between my legs and pumping slowly. "It feels good. So warm," I said. "So wet and sticky." "How do you taste?"
I drew my fingers out and slowly raised them to my lips. My tongue darted out, tasting the juice before it dripped down my middle finger. "Sweet," I said. "It tastes sweet, but salty." "Just like I remember," he said. The silence grew so long I started to wonder if he'd hung up. "Are you stroking your cock?" "Yes," he said. "I'm stroking my cock and remembering the last time
I was inside you." "What does it feel like?" "Inside you?" he asked, but before I could answer, he went on. "It feels like heaven inside your cunt. Soft but tight, wet and warm. Just thinking about it… remembering it… Oh my fucking god, it makes me want to cum." I had already returned my busy fingers to my pussy, parting my swollen lips before pushing them
back inside. Slow, deep, just the realization of what I was doing, getting myself off while a mysterious man who claimed to have been inside me jerked himself off on the other line, made me ache with want. My cunt felt empty, even with those two fingers probing in and out with deliberate precision. "Are you still touching yourself?" he broke the silence. "Yes," I enough."
said, "but
it's
not
"It never is," he agreed. "Use your dildo and imagine it's me pounding and pounding until you cum." "What if I don't have a dildo?" I asked, but I was already rolling onto my side and reaching for the nightstand drawer. "Then I'll disappointed."
be
sorely
"We wouldn't want that." I didn't
have time to be choosey, not with my heavy breather waiting on the other line, so I grabbed the first dildo my hand touched. I pulled it out and felt my eyes grow wide when I realized I'd grabbed the neon blue, twelve-inch latex cock. Twelve long, hard inches… this was going to be good. "Tonight you have a twelve inch cock," I told him. "Baby," he started, "I have a twelve inch cock every night." I shuddered with delight at the
thought and wondered why I didn't know more guys with twelve inch cocks, but I was done trying to figure him out. For the moment, he could be anyone I wanted him to be, just so long as I didn't stop pumping that latex cock. "I'm so wet, it's gonna slide right in," I told him, lying back in the bed and spreading my legs wide. "That's what I like to hear." I
teased
my
dripping
cunt,
probing the massive head of my dildo until it was slick. Lubricated in my own juices, I pushed it in slowly, gasping as it probed my depths and filled me. "Are you fucking yourself?" "Yes," I whimpered. I pulled the dildo back out, allowing the head to rest inside me before gliding it back. I wasn't thinking anymore about the husky voice on the other line, or the fact
that he was stroking his own cock while listening to me get off on that dildo. All I could think about was how good it felt to have a cock inside me again, even if it was synthetic. "Tell me how I feel inside you," he said. "How hard am I?" "So hard." I bucked my hips upward, pushing the hard cock deep into my pussy. "So fucking hard." "Yeah, baby." His teeth were
clenched; I heard it when he spoke. "How hard am I fucking you?" "You're pounding me." I jammed the dildo in and out of me, faster, harder. My voice shook when I said, "You're pounding me so hard. So hard." "Yeah I am." In the silence, I could just barely hear the sound of him stroking his cock. "I'm ramming my cock into your pussy." "Yes," I cried, punching the dildo
harder, harder. "Oh god, yes! Fuck me." The phone slipped out from between my ear and shoulder, but I didn't care. I could hear his voice on the pillow beside my head, but it didn't matter anymore what he was saying. With my other hand I reached down and flicked at the nub of my clit, the dildo pounding in and out in wet, sticky pulses. "I want you to cum for me," the muffled voice on the other line said. "Cum for me, baby. Cum for me." I
could feel the pressure building. I was going to explode, wanted to more than anything in the world. "Come on, Rachel, cum." Climbing the peak, my body writhed in time with every slap and probe of latex, my index finger tickling, circling, stroking until I couldn't hold back anymore. Warm waves of pleasure rippled through my body, shuddering through me over and over as I slowed the plunging rhythm of my imaginary
lover's cock. I moaned again and again, and on the pillow beside my head I heard him say, "Yeah, baby. Yeah. It feels good, doesn't it?" I hissed the word, "Yes," and nothing more. And then the line clicked. I laid there listening to the silence. I released my hand from the base of the dildo, but left it inside me. I didn't even know if he came, but for the first time in days I
wasn't thinking about Kevin James. I wasn't thinking about relationships or the future. I was only sated and eagerly looking forward to getting backstage and back in action. I needed a real cock, and fast. I slid into my nightie and drew on a clean pair of panties before heading out into the kitchen to find the ice cream. Frankie was leaning against the counter eating straight out of the carton, and grinned over
at me as I approached. "You have that calm look in your eyes," he said, "like you just got laid." I laughed and opened to drawer to find another spoon. "Thank god for latex." He held the carton out to me and I scooped out a bite of chocolate. "Where's Daniel?" "Sleeping," he shrugged. "I tired him out, poor boy."
"I bet he's pretty when he's sleeping." "Like an angel," Frankie sighed. "Hey, did we save the paper from this morning? I want to see who's coming to town this week." A slow grin drew at the corners of his mouth. "Rachel's got her groove back." "Yeah," I slid another spoonful of heaven into my mouth. "I don't
know who that was that called, but it got me thinking. If I keep sitting here thinking about what could be, even though I know it never will, I'm going to shrivel up and die." Frankie reached out and tucked a stray lock of hair behind my ear. "That's my girl." He handed the ice cream carton over to me and turned around to find the newspaper. He shook it open to the entertainment section and said, "Now let's see who's comin' to town."
BACKSTAGE PASS BANG BANG
It was my twenty-fifth birthday, and since I was born on Halloween I've never really been at a loss for interesting celebration ideas. That year, however, I was in no mood to celebrate. My grandmother was in the hospital, and convinced that she might not pull through, my dad convinced me to take a trip east with him just in case. "You may not get to see her again," he pointed out.
That thought disturbed me. My grandfather had died four years earlier, and it had come on so suddenly I never got to say goodbye. I wasn't making that same mistake with Gran. In retrospect, I am glad we went… in more ways than one. Gran turned out to be fine. They released her from the hospital on my birthday, but she was in no condition to do much of anything but sleep. Knowing she was fine, I felt a little a mopey. My dad had never been big on birthdays, noting
it was just another day of the year, so my friends had always picked up the slack. My father came out of her bedroom, closing the door behind him and walking toward me. "She just needs rest." "She'll probably sleep all night then, huh?" "Probably." "Maybe I'll just go to bed too," I
shrugged. Daddy tilted his head at me, a smirk prodding at the corner of his bearded mouth. "You're gonna go to bed at 8 o'clock on your birthday?" In theory, it sounded like a terrible idea, even worse when I realized it was only 5 o'clock back home. "There's nothing else to do here." "Oh, shut up." He reached into his back pocket and pulled out his
wallet. "Why don't you take the rental and see if you can go find something fun to do in town." He folded a wad of cash into my hand and as if sensing my protest added, "Go on. Get out of here. There's nothing you can do here anyway." I climbed into the rental car with a pocketful of cash and no idea where the hell I was even going. It wasn't like my grandmother lived in New York City and there were tons of clubs just down the street.
Buffalo was about an hour from her house, and even that felt like a ridiculous jaunt in a rental car just to find a good time. On the other hand, the odds of actually finding something worthwhile to do around town seemed pretty slim, so I pulled into the gas station to fill up the car, intent on driving into Buffalo. I jammed the gas nozzle into the tank and squeezed, my gaze drawn to the building cattycorner to the
gas station. Big guys in black were lugging musical equipment out of the back of a truck and carrying it in through the propped open double doors of an old skating rink with a crooked marquee. I couldn't even tell what the band's name was, as half the letters had slid off the sign, so I figured maybe it was someone local. I debated for a moment skipping out on my plan to drive into Buffalo. Maybe the local flavor
would be to my liking, but as I watched the heavyset guy lug a bass drum from the back of the truck, his jiggling belly hanging out the bottom of his overstretched shirt, I shook my head. Buffalo… it was the only way. I finished pumping my gas, returned the nozzle to the unit and walked in to pay. Just as I approached the door, a god pushed through the exit, the cow bell dangling from the door handle
announcing his presence with a clang. He was huge, at least 6 foot 5, and the mid-back length of his jet black hair whispered in the autumn breeze like some kind of rock star romance novel cover. I stepped to the left as he stepped left, and then we both stepped right, prompting the deep bellow of his laughter. "I'd love to stay and dance with you all night, but I've got places to be." His voice was even deeper than his laugh, and
thickly wrapped in a prominent New York accent. "Sorry." I lifted my gaze to meet with his, sharp green eyes stared back at me under enticed and raised eyebrows. "You with the band across the street?" "If I said yes, would that impress you?" He lifted the corner of his mouth to grin at me, those green eyes shimmering with playful malice.
"I don't impress easily," I said. "But I do love a good show. What kind of music?" An uneasiness gripped his chuckle as he admitted, "I have no idea. We've never been very good at labeling ourselves. It's a little on the heavy side though, and you look like a delicate little flower." Delicate? Hardly. Little? Compared to the jolly green giant in front of me, I did feel a little on the small side. I lowered my eyes over
him, checking out the full package tucked into his black jeans before returning my gaze to his. I wondered if asking him to pluck me might be a little too much in that first few minutes of conversation. "I can hold my own." I smirked a little, a gesture that lifted both corners of his mouth. "I was headed into Buffalo in search of something to do, but maybe…" "I can't promise we'll be better than Buffalo," he said. "We actually
suck." A giggle tickled the back of my throat. "I like to suck, but maybe I will go to Buffalo. I'm really far from home and this already hasn't been the best of birthdays." "It's your birthday?" he asked. "The big two-five." I nodded. "Ahh, you're still just a baby," he said. "And while I can't promise the music will be all that great, if you're
into sucking, maybe you should come with me." A voice from across the street called out, "Evan, quit fucking around!" "Evan?" I asked, glancing back over my shoulder to find not one, but two more black haired gods standing on the sidewalk across the street with their arms crossed. "Is that you?" "In the flesh." He held his hand
out to shake mine, and when I accepted it, he squeezed gently before lifting it to his lips and brushing a soft kiss across the top of my knuckles. "Looks like I'm being summoned," he said. "So," he paused for a moment, still holding my fingers in his gentle grip while focusing the intensity of those amazing green eyes on me. "What do you say? You wanna come get in on the sucking?" I looked back at the two men on
the sidewalk and then him again. It would save me a trip to Buffalo, I thought. Shrugging, I said, "Yeah, okay. Let me go inside and pay for my gas." "I'll wait." Inside the convenience store, I kept glancing outside while waiting in line. My mind flashed to the memory of that tightly wrapped package in the front of his tight jeans; a guy of that height had to be packing serious heat and there was
only one way to find out. While I was inside, the two guys who'd called to him from across the street wandered over and were standing outside talking with Evan when I returned. "And who's this?" He was shorter than Evan by about six or seven inches, which brought me almost level with his intense, brown-eyed stare. "I'm Rachel," I said.
"It's her birthday," Evan explained matter-of-factly. "I thought we should do our best to show her a good time. She likes to suck." "Happy Birthday, Rachel," said the third one, who was almost on par with Evan in the height department. He wasn't as broad in the shoulders though, and his thick black hair hung in loose waves over his shoulders, nearly curtaining his intense, sky-blue eyes. "You coming
to the show?" "I guess I am," I said. "I just need to find somewhere to park my car." "I'll show you around to the back parking lot," Evan said. "We'll meet you guys inside in a few." As Evan ducked down into the passenger's seat beside me, I glanced over and watched him adjust the seat to accommodate his long legs. He pushed the seat back
so far, there was no way anyone could fit behind him, and for a second the naughty girl inside me thought about reclining that seat back and climbing on top of him. He directed me down to the end of the block, where we turned left and cruised past a few driveways before turning into the parking lot behind the rink. Their tour bus was parked there, and a crowd of early fans lingered around, hoping to catch a glimpse of the band.
"We might get a little action walking to the bus," he explained. "And I was hoping for a little action on the way to the parking lot." I put the car in park and reached back to grab my jacket. As I was returning to the front seat, his lips met mine. A slow kiss ensued, his long fingers tangling in my hair when he pulled me as close to him as possible. When he pulled back, I smiled and said, "Mm, yummy." "There's more where that came
from," he promised, sealing it with a quick peck before reaching for the door handle to let himself out. He approached my side of the car as I was locking up, and after sliding into my jacket, he lowered an arm over my shoulders. Guiding me toward the crowd, a group of girls immediately surged toward us, waving T-shirts and CDs, brandishing Sharpie markers and calling out his name. Who was this guy? Certainly not
some local yokel, judging from the squealing female population rushing to push themselves against him. A chorus of "Evan, Evan, Evan," followed by, "Can you sign my shirt, take a picture with me, sign my tits...Evan, will you bite me?" echoed through the darkened parking lot, and for a moment I just stood off to the side to let him play his part. Ignoring the glares and sneers that came my way, I rejoiced when the two guys from the convenience store parking lot
approached. "Evan, sound check." "I'm so sorry, ladies," Evan bowed almost humbly before them. "That's my cue." He slid his arm across my shoulder again, buffering me between himself and one of the other guys and walking us toward the back entrance. Stale cigarette smoke wafted out to meet us, followed by the wailing test of a
guitar and thumping hammer of drums. Evan steered me away from the sound, down the corridor and into a makeshift dressing room packed with busy bodies rushing to and fro. I spotted the heavyset roadie with his gut hanging out the bottom of his shirt and shuddered. "Who the fuck is this?" A short, balding man with a piece of paper in his hand pushed toward us. "You three… We don't have time for this tonight."
"There's always time for a birthday party," Evan said. "Rachel, this is our manager, Clay. Clay, it's Rachel's birthday." "Happy Birthday, Rachel." He practically rolled his eyes at me before focusing his stern gaze on the guys surrounding me. "You need to get ready. The show starts in less than an hour. They're already letting people in." "Chill out, Clay," Evan yawned. "We'll be ready."
"You better be, or I'm gonna shove my boot so far up your ass, you'll be choking on the laces for a month!" "Promises, promises." Someone near the door hollered for Clay, and he threw up his arms in exasperation before wagging a finger at the guys. "I mean it. No fucking around." "You got it," Evan said with a
nod. "No fucking around." But as soon as Clay's back was turned, Evan bent down and whispered, "So, you wanna go fuck around?" I stepped back, my eyes widening at the prospect of finding out if all of him was so big. I batted my lashes flirtatiously and said, "What kind of girl do you think I am?" "I'm hoping to find out." His hand slid down the length of my arm, fingers tangling with mine.
"Are you gonna show me?" His bandmates watched as we disappeared through the crowded room and ducked into the dimly lit hallway between the stage and the old wooden rink. He pushed into the bathroom and I was thankful that despite the rundown appearance of the building, it was actually pretty clean inside. I bumped the door closed with my ass and Evan pressed himself into me as he twisted the lock between
his fingertips. As he pushed in close, he lowered his face to mine, his warm breath sweeping out across my cheek before his soft lips closed over my ear, tongue darting out to taste my skin. "So," he breathed, "what does Rachel want for her birthday this year?" "Hmm." A soft, throaty laugh escaped me, and I started to slide down the door so I was hunkered down at his waist. I reached for the
button stretched across the top of his tight pants and deftly released it before working the zipper down. "It's like opening a present." I lifted my eyes to meet with his, though they were shrouded and shadowed by the curtain of his hair. "What's inside?" His hard cock bulged inside his underwear, poking out the top of the waistband and waiting for me to reach inside and pull it out. I slid my hand in, fingers wrapping
around the thick base and eyes widening as I stroked my hand down the length. "Oh," I gasped. "Oh, wow. You're…" I drew my lip between my teeth. "You're massive." A confident grin found his mouth. "So I've heard." "Jesus," I slid his pants down his hips, unleashing the beast hidden with and drawing myself back to get a good, hard look at it. "Oh my god.
Happy fucking birthday to me." "It's all your…" he started to say, but quickly gasped as I leaned in and circled my tongue around the bulging purple head of the monster stiff and bobbing in front of me. I spit into the palm of my hand and slid the sticky warmth over his cock, gripping and pumping as I did. His dick was so big, I had to spit again to cover it in my saliva, and I couldn't even close my fingers around it while I stroked him. Once
he was fully lubed, and my hand was busy sliding up and down the shaft, I opened my mouth wide and took him inside me. There was no way I could fit him in my mouth, and tough I'd never minded a little gag now and then, this guy would have choked me to death if I'd tried to deep throat him. I'd just have to use my hand and my lips to get him off. I traced my tongue around the tip, pumping and suckling, reaching with my other
hand to circle his balls between my thumb and forefinger. He moaned above me, one hand tangled in my hair to guide my mouth up and down his cock, while the other gripped the doorframe tight. He pushed himself hard into my mouth, my lips stretching around his incredible girth, my back teeth brushing the head of his cock until I gagged. The reflex only seemed to turn him on more, so I kept stroking and pumping, his hips
gyrating while he fucked my mouth. "You're incredible." He tightened his grip on my hair, drawing my head back enough that he could look me in the eye while his cock was still buried deep in my mouth. I continued to jerk him off, sliding as much of him in and out as I could, but the closer he got to cumming, the bigger his cock swelled until I could barely contain him anymore. I moved back, still stroking hard, and said, "Tell me
when you're gonna cum." Eyes closed tight, he only nodded, his mouth opening and closing as he continued to gasp and moan at the pleasure my mouth brought to him. When he started to stiffen, I didn't think he was going to tell me, but then he whispered, "Here it comes." I worked my hand faster up and down his shaft, closed my mouth over his head and sucked until I felt hot spurts of jiz shoot into the back
of my throat. His body shuddered, jamming his cock deeper into me until the final spasms of enjoyment passed through him and he took a step back to pull himself from my mouth. Even only half-hard, he was massive. In fact, he had the biggest cock I'd ever personally seen, and if I didn't get to ride that freak show before the night was through, I was going to be sorely disappointed. Evan worked the button on his
jeans and I stood up to check my hair and makeup in the mirror. I fixed my lipstick and ran my fingers through the tangles in my hair. I caught his grin in the mirror and turned to face him with a smile of my own. "What?" He shook his head, but before he could answer someone pounded on the other side of the door, twisting the locked knob several times between hammers. Beyond the door
I could hear the opening band already tearing the place up. "Come on, Evan! I know you're in there!" Clay's fist bounced off the door a few more times. "We don't have fucking time for your dick." Evan reached out and touched my face. "This party isn't over," he said. "Good." Seated side stage by Clay, I
listened to the familiar rise and hum of eager anticipation from the crowd. When the lights went down, the energy surged with a deafening hush and then the band's preamble began. It sounded like chains dragging through broken glass, followed by a hard, male command and when the lights blazed Halloween orange, a snow machine blasted tiny flakes to float out over the crowd. Evan stood center stage, his legs parted, the microphone curled in his long fingers. He leaned
in close, a guitar hanging low at his waist, and started to sing. Suck they did not and I started to wonder why I'd never heard of them before. Surely they'd been outside of New York. Hell, quite a few people in the crowd were wearing the band's shirts and I remembered the number of CDs those girls outside the bus had passed to Evan so he could sign them. I was definitely going to be getting one of those CDs myself.
Not just for the memory either. I really liked their music. After the show, Clay was much nicer to me. Sliding his hand down the small of my back, he led me backstage where Evan was tilting back a bottle of Apothic Red wine. Soaked in sweat, his hair and clothes clung to his muscled frame, and I licked my lips in anticipation. As he lowered the bottle, he smiled at me and said, "I told you we sucked."
"No way," I waved him off. "You were really great." "Yeah?" He lifted his eyebrow at me, a hint of disbelief dulling the shine in his eyes. "Really." I nodded. "And I'm not just saying that to get in your pants." "Well…" He took another swig of wine. "Even if you were, I'd still let you in. You want to come back to the bus with me?"
"Yeah." Battling through the crowd of screaming, hungry chicks was worse the second time around, and Evan was gracious in accepting all their love. I stood by the door to the bus watching him flirt and kiss cheeks, take pictures and sign everything from bared titties to skimpy panties. "He loves his people," the blueeyed god I'd met outside the convenience store said as he
nudged in beside me. "He could be out here for hours." "That's okay," I shrugged. "You don't have to wait out here." He opened the tour bus door. "Come on in and have a drink." I was a little thirsty, so I followed him up the stairs and onto the bus. The drummer, who I hadn't met yet, was sitting on one of the benches with a beer in one hand and a PS2 controller in the other.
He barely looked up to acknowledge us as my host offered me a seat on the other end of the bench. "Beer?" "That'd be great." He shuffled around in the small refrigerator, pulling out two Rolling Rocks. He wrenched the cap free from both of them and sat down beside me. "So, it's your birthday?" he asked. "A Halloween demon baby, huh?"
"I guess so." I laughed and tilted the beer into my mouth. "I never caught your name." "Dane," he said. "And that's Joey." He gestured toward the drummer, who glanced over at me and nodded a silent hello. "Evan said you're not from around here." "No, I'm here visiting my sick grandmother." Dane didn't grin when he said, "You're a regular little red riding
hood." "Would that make you the big bad wolf then?" He did smile at that. "I could be." Reaching across the space between us, he brushed a lock of hair from my face and tilted my chin up to look into his eyes. "You think you could make me howl?" "I know I could." For the first time since I'd seen
Evan's huge cock, I wasn't thinking about it. I was focused on Dane's fingers sliding up the inside of my thigh. "I bet I could make you moan and howl," he muttered, leaning into my waiting lips. I glanced for a moment back toward Joey, but he didn't even seem to know we were on the same bus with him. When Dane's hand started to crawl up the back of my shirt, fingers swiftly unhooking my bra, I forgot about Joey too. I'd
fucked in front of other people before, so that wouldn't be a problem, but for a second I was worried Evan would walk in and my chance to ride the beast between his legs would be over before it even started. I gripped his wrist for a moment. "What about Evan?" "He'll join the party when he gets here," he said. "Oh." I felt my brow lift, and as
the realization of what he'd said sunk in, I said it again with more feeling. "OH!" Dane dove in to kiss me, his fingers working every button he could find until I was half undressed and completely at his mercy. He slid my pants down over my hips and lowered his mouth to eagerly taste my snatch. Tongue darting out, I nearly fell off the bench as I pushed myself closer to his lips and tongue. Closing my
eyes, my head tilted back and I just let myself experience the amazing feeling of his mouth on my clit. I was so distracted, I didn't hear the bus door open or even open my eyes until Evan said, "I see you're getting her primed and ready." Dane slid two fingers inside me. "She's sopping wet." "Good." Evan unbuttoned his pants as he walked toward me. "You ready for your birthday party?"
"Oh yeah." He took off his pants and sat down on the bench beside me. "Stand up," he said. Dane moved out of the way and I did as Evan told me. He gripped my wrist and pulled me over in front of him, then planted his hands on my waist to lift me up into his lap. He positioned me over his already hard cock and started to push himself slowly inside me. Dane was right, I was dripping wet, but even all that
lubrication was hardly enough to prepare me for Evan's size. I gasped several times until he'd buried his cock so deep inside me I could feel him in places I'd never felt a man before. "Oh, oh my god, that feels good." "Yeah?" he concentrated on his thrust and started to pound up inside me. "You like the way I feel inside you?" "Oh yeah," I ground my hips up
and down, sliding over his pole. Dane's unexpected hands on my shoulders made me jump. To soothe me, Dane started to rub my shoulders, and I relaxed, allowing my overstretched muscles to accommodate Evan's throbbing cock. Evan gripped my hips, lifting me up and down as if I weighed no more than a doll. Dane's working hands slid down my back and cupped my ass cheeks, squeezing and kneading while I rode his
bandmate's cock. "That feels good." I leaned back against his chest and his hair fell over my shoulder, tickling my breasts and making my nipples hard. I was totally distracted by the incredible pleasure of being completely full, rocking my hips and riding Evan like some kind of cowgirl in a Wild West show. I felt Dane stroking his cock against my ass, so I should have known he was
about to knock on the back door. When his slippery head pressed against my asshole, I couldn't clench the muscle because Evan gripped my ass and spread it wide for Dane. "God," I cried out as he eased into my ass. My cry was a combination of incredible pleasure and gratefulness that Dane wasn't near as huge as Evan. "We're gonna fill you with cum," Dane growled.
"Oh yeah." I pushed into his cock, burying it deep in my ass and then slid forward to feel Evan ram my pussy. They pumped their cocks into my holes, and as I leaned back against Dane to accommodate him, I wasn't the least bit surprised to see Joey had finally taken his eyes off the video game to watch his friends fuck me hard. When he caught my gaze, he looked away almost shyly, but I saw where his
hand had moved to. He was stroking his own cock through the fabric of his pants, and it was rising higher with every slow tug of his fingers. "You want some of this?" I gestured toward him with my finger, and he reluctantly stood up to join us. Dane and Evan fucked me and I took Joey's cock in my hand and jerked him off. In the position we'd started in, it was impossible to do more than that for
him, so Dane and Evan pulled out of me and Evan moved to the floor. I mounted him again, the shock of his size no longer an issue, and as soon as I was comfortably positioned, Dane thrust his cock into my asshole again. Between the two of them, it was almost hard to focus on getting Joey off, but I did my best. I licked the tip of his cock and then lowered my lips over it, tongue flicking all the way down his shaft until he was
pumping at the back of my throat. I moaned, a garbled sound with Joey's dick filling my eager mouth. I'd never been so full of cock in my life and it felt so good I couldn't stop crying out. Between the continual bang and slam of Evan and Dane, my g-spot was throbbing with the most intense orgasms I'd ever had during intercourse, but I kept sucking Joey's cock and clenching my hand around him to stroke it up and down.
Dane tangled his fingers into my hair, pulling my head back so Joey could ram himself deep into my throat. He pumped his hips, fucking my mouth. I felt him growing even harder, a sure sign he was about to cum, and when he gasped at the onset of orgasm, I pulled back and let him spray hot cum all over my tits and neck. As if seeing Joey paint my chest made it impossible for him to hold back any longer, Dane blew his load all over my ass, but Evan kept driving his monster cock
into me over and over. Still inside me, he rolled me over onto my back and slammed me so hard his balls slapped at my sticky ass. Joey and Dane stood by, watching and handling their cocks in hopes that they'd grow hard again so they could take another turn with me. I moved my hands through the hot mess dripping over my breasts, slicking my palms over my rock hard nipples while bucking up to
receive the biggest dick I'd ever had. "I love your cock," I told him. "It's so huge." "My cock loves you," he said, banging me so hard I almost bit my tongue. When Evan was about to cum his fingertips pushed hard into my skin; I knew I'd have bruises there come morning, but I didn't care. Slamming into me harder and harder until I felt his hot warmth
explode inside me, I rode it out until his grip slackened and he dropped his hands beside him on the floor. "Wow." I was still lying underneath Evan. "Happy fucking birthday to me!" "Happy fucking birthday indeed," Evan smiled. "And you were gonna go to Buffalo." I was glad I hadn't gone to Buffalo, and glad my dad had
convinced me to come with him to see my grandmother, even though I missed what my friends back home told me again and again was a hell of a party. The truth was, my twenty-fifth was the best birthday party I'd ever had, and I had the boys from New York to thank for that.
BACKSTAGE PASS ABSOLUTE BEGINNERS
I never thought of myself as bisexual, even though I never had a problem admitting when I thought another woman was smokin' hot! The older I got, the more fashionable it seemed to call yourself bisexual, and as fashionable as I had always been, it felt like such a sham. I'd never been with a woman before, so I really didn't think having the occasional female fantasy while I pleasured myself classified me as bisexual.
And then I met Julye. I didn't exactly meet her, I guess. In fact, I didn't even know her name until the next day, but Julye pushed me over the threshold I'd been toeing in my fantasies for years. When the lights went down to signal the start of the show, a hush fell over the small crowd that pushed their way into the club to see Trey Soul perform his first solo show. It was like the 1980s for a minute, as lighters went up,
swaying in the darkness until the scream of electric guitar rent the silence and the crowd erupted in excited screams. A single green spotlight shone down on Trey, his once bleached blonde hair now hanging in jet-black streams down his face. Ruby red lipstick smeared across his mouth. He opened up and his trademark voice followed. I watched from my table in the back, preferring not to get trampled at a show with less than two
hundred people. I was glad Trey had invited me and his latest solo project was amazing, but not worth dying for at the hands of a bunch of hardcore fans. Leaning back in my chair, I glanced at the table beside me and smiled to see I wasn't the only one who wanted live. A lone brunette grinned back at me, but my view of her was quickly obscured by the tall figure in black leather that approached my table. I glanced up, recognizing the guitarist
from Trey's old band and waved, mouthing the word, "Hey!" Marcus Aimes shrugged the flowing brown locks of his hair back over his shoulder and gestured toward the empty seat across from me. I nodded, and he pulled the chair out, lowering himself into it and glancing toward the stage. I'd been with Marcus once, but it had been a couple years. Trey and I had stayed friends, and saw each other from time to time when he was in
town, but Marcus had been a one time thing. I was actually surprised he'd recognized me, much less remembered me at all. I glanced over his shoulder at the stage, impressed with the stark contrast between the sound of Trey's new project and the old band. It was sexier, more glam mixed with a touch of techno that made me want to get up and dance, but not with that crowd of crazies ramming into each other like they were in the
pit at a Slayer show. The brunette at the next table over caught my gaze again, she was staring curiously, her eyes moving back and forth between Marcus and me, but when she realized I saw her, she glanced toward the stage nonchalantly and didn't look back again. She reached up and absently coiled a strand of her chestnut hair around her index finger, and for a moment I thought I saw her glancing from the corner of her eye.
It was impossible to hear yourself think over the fast techno beat, heavy guitar and Trey's sensual scream. I didn't understand the words he was singing, but I knew Trey well enough to know they were sexual, and the intonation of every beautifully perverse utterance permeated the air. It was like a team of scientists had dropped a pheromone bomb on top of the club, and everyone inside had been affected. Girls in the audience ground their hips
together, dancing to the insane beat, and the men dressed in shining latex groped at one another. That pulsing rhythm seemed to bounce the floor beneath my feet, vibrating through my shoes, up the length of my calves and into my thighs in such a way that I easily understood why the crowd was going wild. Trey's new sound had serious vibrator potential, no batteries required. By the time he left the stage, I
was ready to fuck. I promised Trey I'd stick around, but Marcus started looking pretty good when he turned around, finally able to talk to me above the din of jumbled voices and excitement. "What'd you think?" he hollered across the table, leaning closer so I could hear him. "Good stuff!" I nodded. "It's so different, but his voice… I'd recognize him in a dark room with a blindfold on."
Marcus laughed. "It's something he always wanted to do, but the guys just weren't into it. Too glam." A heavy hand fell on my shoulder and a deep, husky voice caressed my ear. "Was it hot?" I grinned back at Trey, drawing the tip of my tongue over my bottom lip before speaking. "I thought I was gonna melt." A flash of approval lit his amber
eyes and he gently squeezed my shoulder. "I knew you'd like it." He glanced up at Marcus with a nod. "Thanks for coming out, man." Trey and Marcus started talking about the sound, the guitars and I momentarily tuned out. My gaze roamed to the table beside us, where the petite brunette sat tilting her head and squinting at Marcus. A few times, it looked like she was going to rise and come over to talk to him, but she hesitated and
returned her attention to the straw poking out of her glass. She lowered bubble gum pink lips around it, sucking for a moment, and then met my stare. "As soon as we're done tearing down, we're gonna party," Trey nudged me. "Back at my place. You game?" "Does that mean I have to share you?" A chuckle escaped him. "Only for
a little while." "Excuse me," a sweet feminine voice interrupted. When I looked up, the girl from the next table over was standing in between Marcus and Trey. "Is your name Marcus?" He started to grin. "Have we met?" Before I could hear her answer, Trey leaned in close to my ear and whispered, "It's gonna be a late night… If you're up to it." His soft
tongue darted out and caressed my earlobe before he gently suckled it between his lips. Trey and I had been casually fucking for years, no strings attached, and he could always be counted on for a good time. I leaned my back against his chest and turned my mouth into his kiss. Trey tasted of lipstick with a twist of bourbon and cigarettes, and as his tongue swept through my lips, an anxious excitement tingled
in the pit of my stomach. Not only did he have an amazing ten-inch cock, he knew how to use it. My night, which was already going well, would end with a bang, bang, bang! I lifted my hand against his cheek, and as I drew back, I tugged his lip gently between my teeth—a promise of playful things to come. Much like Trey, his parties were obnoxious, loud and usually didn't end until the cops showed up. That night was no different. I didn't even
see him, save for the occasional across-the-room glance, until around four-thirty a.m., when he leaned over the balcony and bellowed, "You don't have to go home, but you can't stay here!" Groans of protest rose from the rowdy crowd, but one by one they began to filter out the door. Most of the night I'd kept myself busy chatting and sharing beers with old friends and acquaintances, but I hadn't seen her among the faces. It
surprised me when I came out of the bathroom to find the loft empty, save for Trey and the nameless brunette who'd been talking to Marcus at the club. Trey was grinning like a Cheshire cat, reaching over to tuck a loose strand of her wavy brown hair behind her ear while she spoke. They glanced over at me, and Trey's hand lingered on her shoulder. The pink tip of her tongue smoothed across her lower lip as
she looked up at me almost shyly, and then returned her gaze to Trey. "Rachel doesn't mind if you join us," he told her. "Do you, Rach?" I started toward them, realizing that my night was about to get a lot more interesting. "Not at all," I said, holding out my hand to her. "The bedroom is this way." I led her toward the stairs, and Trey tilted his head to watch as he ascended. The grin never left his face, and one by one he climbed the steps behind us.
Trey sat down on the edge of the bed and patted the mattress with both hands, one on each side of him. Without hesitation, I went and tool the left side, lowering my hand to rest on top of his thigh, but she lowered her face demurely, only lifting her eyes for a moment. "You don't have to stay," Trey said, lowering his arm behind my back, his fingers curling into my waist to draw me closer. "I just thought you might be up for a little
fun." He looked away from her and brushed his lips against my cheek, but I didn't look away. I watched her. "It's just that…" she started, and then shook her head. "I've never… not with another girl before." "Neither have I," I said. Okay, true. I'd women company
so that wasn't entirely been to bed with other before, always in the of a man, and even a few
times with Trey. He liked threesomes, but in my own experience with him, it'd never gone beyond the other woman and I pleasing him together. I'd never actually been sexual with another woman before. Her eyes brightened as she lifted her chin to look at me. "Really?" I nodded, "Really." Trey glanced sidelong at me, a mischievous gleam in his amber
eyes. "So I have a couple of virgins on my hands," he chuckled. "You both know the best way to go about losing your virginity right?" When neither of us answered, he said, "You just take off your clothes, and dive right in." She took a slow step toward the bed. "But what if…" she hesitated. "What if we do it wrong?" "Girl," Trey laughed again. "There's no way to do it wrong. You just go with the fucking flow. Here,"
he stood up. "Come sit by Rachel." He reached for her hand, drawing her over to the bed. She stumbled a little, but then sat down with a bounce on the bed beside me. "Now I know Rachel does amazing things with her mouth, and I'm sure you know how to kiss a guy… " "Well, yeah." She nodded. "It's no different." He crossed his arms over his chest. "Just kiss her." I was looking at Trey, almost
shocked that he wasn't taking advantage of the opportunity himself, but she was looking at me. I could feel her stare, and then Trey glanced toward her with a nod, as if willing me to go for it. I turned my head and met with her gaze. She had round, steel-blue eyes and as I met them, a soft smile grabbed at the corners of her slightly parted lips. She started to lean toward me, those lips still parted, and I felt the
muscles in my stomach tingle with anticipation and a strange pulse of desire unlike any I had ever felt. I closed my eyes, and felt her lips caress mine. My desire burned warmer, and then Trey knelt on the floor between us. "Kiss her like you would kiss me, Rachel." I remembered our kiss earlier at the club, the taste of his warm tongue as it danced against mine with the promise of later pleasures. Instinct answered his command. I
opened my mouth to her kiss, darting my tongue out to brush her lips before gently pushing it inside. She moaned softly, her breath catching in the back of her throat just before she flicked her tongue out to meet with mine. "That's it," Trey said, his hand resting on my knee. "It feels good, doesn't it?" My lips brushed past hers, moved over her cheek and I bent my head down toward her neck. The
warm brush of my breath against her skin made her shudder, and she lifted a hand to the back of my head, holding it there gently at first. When I opened my lips against the curve of her neck, her fingers tightened in my hair and she threw her head back to accommodate my wandering kisses. I tasted her skin, suckling slowly and relishing in the silent plea of her fingers in my hair. Trey's hand slid off my leg, and he dropped back on the floor to
watch. "Take off her shirt," he said. I pulled back, inspecting the row of buttons trailing down the front of her shirt. With eager, but trembling fingers, I worked my way down from the top, and after pushing the last button through the eye, I slid the shirt down over her arms. I reached for the strap of her bra, but she stopped me, instead unhooking it from behind. She had small breasts, but they were perky, the nipples like two pink rosebuds.
They sprung forward, hardening as I lifted my hand up to cup the left one in my palm. I loved the way she watched me, her lower lip clenched between her teeth, and when I pushed my thumb and forefinger together, squeezing her nipple, she gasped and lifted her eyes to my face. She lunged forward into another kiss, her wet mouth seeking mine out while I kneaded her breast. Eyes closed and body pressing into
my touch, her tongue pushed through my lips hungrily. From the corner of my eye, I saw Trey watching, his eyes heavy-lidded with eager anticipation. I trailed my hand down over her flat stomach, stopping to let my fingers work the button of her tight pants. She leaned back, granting me access and I deftly pushed the button through and drew down the zipper. A sneak peek at her bright red lace panties enticed me, and
though there was a part of me wondering why I was so eager to do this with her, it was only a small voice—drowned out by the flashing heat of desire coursing through my veins. She lay back so I could yank her pants off her hips and toss them away, leaving behind nothing but those hot red panties. Her crotch was damp, and I knew if I reached down between my own legs, I'd quickly learn I was sopping wet
myself. As if he read my mind, Trey moved in behind me and slid his hand up the back of my skirt. His fingers slipped under the elastic, tickling and probing my slick, aching snatch. "You are so fucking wet," he whispered, pressing himself against my back. "Do her titties make you hot?" His cheek brushed against mine, lips lingering beside my ear, which burned under the soft huff of his breath. "Do you want to taste
her pussy?" "Mm," I moaned softly, my gaze trailing the length of her body, eyes lingering over that damp spot darkening her panties. My hand tentatively moved over her underwear, the sticky wetness slipping up my palm. As I pulled it back, Trey's arm glided down the length of my own, hand gripping and lifting my palm up to his face. His tongue darted out, gliding over the wet spot her juices had left on
my hand. I could smell her one me, musty, but sweet, and wondered what she tasted like. I'd tasted a woman's juices before, and not just my own. I'd sucked the pussy off Trey's cock a number of times, but it wasn't the same and I knew it. I would be pleasuring her, and when the full realization of this sunk in, my pussy swelled with excitement. She was trembling a little bit when I took her panties off, lifting
herself up on her elbows to watch, and when I looked into her eyes I saw a tantalizing mixture of fear and excitement. Her pussy was shaved bald, and both her hole and the pink nub of her clit were glistening wet. I rubbed my hand slowly up her inner thigh, pushing her legs even further apart, and then lowered my lips to follow the trail of my hand with my lips. Goosebumps dotted her flesh, and she shuddered a little at my exploration. Trey's body followed
mine forward, and though he was still dressed, I could feel his hard cock pressing into my ass through his pants. His fingers were now pumping slowly in and out of my dripping pussy, a teasing reward for what I was about to do. My tongue moved along the fleshy part of her inner-thigh, and as I moved closer to her pussy, the enticing aroma wafted out to tease me. I slid my finger up to probe her dripping cunt, and she was so wet it
slipped right inside her. She shivered and moaned, dropping her body back onto the bed and pushing her hips forward as if beckoning me to taste her. Trey's lips suckled my ear and he whispered, "Do it, Rachel." I drew in a deep breath, a little scared and a lot excited. Part of me worried I would do it wrong and she wouldn't get off, but then I thought about how I liked to be eaten. I pulled my finger out and lifted it to
my lips, tongue sweeping out to taste her. I was surprised at how sweet she tasted and just a little bit salty. I circled that finger over her clitoris to tease her, and then lowered it back into her quivering hole. Pushing my finger as far into her as I could, my mouth hovered for a moment over her pussy, and then as Trey recommended before, I dove into her muff. As soon as my lips touched her clit, she bucked upward to meet my
mouth with a delighted half-moan, half-squeal. I closed my mouth over her, and my tongue swirled in to lap at her dripping cunt. Trey rewarded me by slipping my panties down to my ankle and fingering me while I ate that sweet pussy, but I was so wrapped up in sliding my tongue between my fingers, in and out of her snatch, that I almost didn't notice the swollen head of his cock pulsing between my lips before he pushed himself inside me.
She got wetter, her pussy juice dripping down my chin as I licked and sucked and made love to her with my tongue. Rocking her hips against my face and tightening her walls around my pumping fingers. The taste of her drove me wild and I couldn't get enough of that beautiful pussy. She was so turned on, that it didn't take long for her body to grow rigid, and then orgasmic release spasmed through her. I felt her pussy walls clench and unclench repeatedly around my
fingers, the flood of her cum dripping into my palm. I pulled them out and pushed my tongue deep into her hole, lapping at her juice like a kitten at milk saucer while Trey fucked me from behind. I slowed my tongue, driving it upward to flicker at her nub again, and she cried out, "Oh god, please. Please don't stop." I suckled her clit, drawing it out between my lips and swirling my tongue around and around until she
came again, this time leaning forward and tangling her fingers into my hair to push my face deeper into her pussy. As the waves of her orgasm began to slow, I slowed the flicker of my tongue, finally drawing back to look at her. Her eyes were wide with excitement, her lips curved into a slow smile. "Now it's your turn," she said, her voice husky with desire. Trey started to withdraw, but she
shook her head. "No," she said. "Keep fucking her. I want to eat her while you're inside her." The thought itself was almost enough to make me cream all over his dick, and when she dropped down in front of me, tilting her head to inspect my cock-filled pussy, I nearly came before she even touched me. She didn't waste any time, quickly opening her mouth to taste me, her tongue gliding up Trey's shaft before
latching her lips onto the nub of my clit and gently sucking while he slowly pumped my aching cunt. I couldn't believe she was eating my pussy. It felt so good, her soft mouth and wet tongue dancing over my folds and licking at my hard nub. I wanted to cum, and the more she sucked while Trey pounded hard, the closer I came to losing control. Trey squeezed my nipples hard between his fingers, rolling them like pebbles until I arched my
back and tried to push myself closer to her teasing mouth. "Cum," Trey commanded. "Cum all over my cock and make her lick it off." His hoarse, whisper drove me over the edge, and release rippled through me as I bucked back and forth between the torment of their simultaneous pleasure. His shaft drove hard inside me, her tongue darted and circled, her lips sucking and kissing as I cried out. It was
literally the most intense orgasm I'd ever had, and as the two of them continued servicing me, it just kept rippling through me again and again. Trey's stroke was hard, faster, and when his breathing grew heavier, I knew he was about to cum. He pulled out quickly, his cock still hard and glistening between my thighs, and shot his load right in her face. She laughed, hot, white jiz dripping down her cheeks and chin,
which were already gleaming wet from my sopping wet cunt. Her tongue slid out to taste a drop of his cum, and she grinned. Later that morning, as I crawled into bed beside Trey, it was just the two of us. She'd gotten dressed shortly after our romp and thanked us both for one of the best nights of her life. I rested my head on his bare chest, my finger curling and uncurling a lock of his soft black hair while I thought about my first
real taste of pussy. It had been better than I ever imagined, and the fact that all my prior fantasies had never entailed going down on a woman myself seemed to make the memory hotter. "How did she taste?" "Yummy," I licked my lips and lifted my leg to lazily drape it over his. "We should fuck her again." "Yeah," he sighed contentment. "She was hot."
"What was her name?" I laughed, realizing I'd never even been properly introduced to the only woman I'd ever been intimate with. "Julye," he said. "Don't worry." His hand slid down the curve of my spine, his arm drawing me closer."I got her number." "Excellent," I grinned. Trey and I would definitely be giving Julye a call… maybe even
later that day.
BACKSTAGE PASS FUCKAPALOOZA
Beautiful Julye, my first taste of pussy. After Julye and I had our first threesome with Trey Soul, we quickly became very close friends. We still had the occasional threesome with Trey, but we also indulged in quite a few private explorations on the side. Julye was like the sister I never had, a twin soul who loved all the same things I did, and I loved
sharing those things with her. Driving down the strip together in her convertible, top down and music blaring, we garnered a lot of attention. We also hit the club scene quite a bit with my roommate Frankie and could generally be found in the front row rocking out whenever a band we both loved rolled through town. Sometimes we double-teamed rockers looking for a threesome, but when we were together it was
always each other we were most interested in. I loved the sweet caress of Julye's tongue over my clit, her lips suckling my pussy, the slippery buck of her cunt over mine, but even more than that I loved to eat her dripping snatch. Swirling my tongue around her nub, and lapping up her cum while she tangled clenching fingers in my hair to push me deeper into her pussy satisfied me more than the shuddering explosion I felt every time she made me orgasm with her soft tongue and
diving fingers. So when Julye called me up and asked if I wanted to fly to Florida with her for an outdoor music festival, I jumped at the chance. I imagined us entering the Mile High club together on the flight to Florida, swaying together amidst a charged, sweaty crowd while rocking out to our favorite bands and tangling together between the sheets in our shared hotel room… but Julye had other plans.
"It's an outdoor festival," she leaned her shoulder into mine to watch the runway shrink beneath the wings of our plane. "We'll rent camping gear and put up a tent at the festival." "Oh," I followed her gaze out the window. "I didn't realize we'd be staying outside. It won't give us much time to play." Leaning inward, I nuzzled my lips against her ear. "What fun is a weekend trip together if we don't even get to
play?" I traced the edge of her ear with my tongue and drew her lobe between my lips to gently suckle. Julye shivered and giggled, a slow grin drawing at her mouth. "There will be plenty of time to play," she promised. "In fact, as soon as they say we can take our seatbelts off, we should go inspect the bathroom." "Yes," I whispered eagerly against her lips when she brushed them against mine.
As the plane climbed higher, the butterflies of anticipation in my stomach fluttered furiously. Julye and I were staking out new territory together, and it was going to be a weekend neither of us would ever forget. I could feel it. Anyone who's ever been to Florida in August can easily attest to the heat. By midmorning, any effort to make yourself presentable is absolutely stripped away as your hair falls and your makeup starts to
run. To make matters worse, it gets so hot that every afternoon a thunderstorm rolls in and furiously hammers everything in its path; the type of thunderstorm you certainly don't want to be caught in when camping outdoors. I hated not looking my best, and the heat was making Julye and I very crabby. The excitement of possibility quickly drained from both our minds after the first thunderstorm, and as we realized
our entire weekend was going to be coated in mud and sweat, the novelty of her brilliant weekend getaway started to wear thin. "I wasn't made for this," I whined, laying back to watch the heavy rain pelt the top of our tent. It had started leaking the first afternoon, shortly after setting it up, and nearly everything inside was damp or soggy. "I'm sorry, Julye, but this is not my idea of a good time."
"I didn't know." She was just as grumpy as I was. Ready to say fuck the deposit we paid on our camping gear and just leave the tent to rot on the grounds while we sought shelter at the nearest hotel. "I'm sorry. Believe me. This wasn't how I imagined us spending our weekend." I rolled over onto my elbow to hover beside her. "It's okay." I bent down and kissed her cheek. "It's not your fault."
The hollow thump of raindrops on the tent was almost hypnotic. Julye turned her kiss into mine, slowly parting her lips and darting her tongue out to trace my lower lip. "At least this weekend won't be a total waste," she said, trailing kisses across my cheek and into the sensitive hollow of my neck. "I am so gross and sweaty," I told her. Her tongue tickled before her lips closed over it and she gently
suckled my skin. "I love the way you taste," she said, blowing across the damp place her tongue had just painted. "Even when you're all sweaty." "If this rain ever stops, we should go shower." "We should just take our clothes off and run naked through the rain." I laughed, reaching up to tuck her hair behind her ear. "You're
such an exhibitionist." "You bring out the dirty girl in me." I loved kissing Julye. There was tenderness in every deep swirl of her tongue, sweetness in the taste of her lips. I sunk down into her mouth, opening myself up to taste her tongue as it slipped and danced against mine. She slid her hand beneath my untucked shirt, teasing fingers walking up my stomach until she reached my breast and
firmly cupped it in her hand. Softly kneading the flesh, her fingers tugged on my nipple until it was hard as a little pebble rolling between them. She pushed my shirt up and then pushed me back, rolling onto me and lowering her lips to suckle my hard nipple. I felt her teeth tighten teasingly around it, tongue flicking out in sweet lashes that made me instantly wet between my legs. Julye lowered her hand to stroke
my damp pussy through the fabric of my shorts. "Somebody's getting wet," she tittered and then brushed her soft, half-opened mouth along the twitching muscles of my stomach. Her tickling hair followed, and I arched my back in response to the intense tease of her lips. "I can make you wetter," she said, lifting her face to glance up at me. Trust me when I tell you, I know the definition of irony. Just seconds
after the uttered those words, the leaking tent caved in, splashing down a river of cold rainwater on us. We both started to scream like a couple of B queens on the lam from Freddy Krueger, arms flailing against the restrictive tent. We probably would have struggled inside that crappy tent for hours if a chivalrous duo hadn't happened along and unzipped us from the outside. The first hand inside drew Julye
out before reaching in to help me to my feet. "Are you girls okay?" The guy holding onto my hand asked. I lifted my mascara-wet eyes, the butterflies returning to my stomach as soon as I realized who he was. David Kendall, the drummer from one of the bands we'd flown all the way to Florida to see. "I'm okay," I shrugged, glancing away in hopes that he wouldn't notice how awful I looked. I reached out to touch
Julye's arm. "Are you okay?" "Fine," she huffed. "But really pissed off! That tent can just die for all I care." "What happened?" asked Seth Winters, the band's bassist. "The damn thing's been leaking since yesterday," Julye shook her head. "It was only a matter of time, after all this ridiculous rain. What a disastrous weekend."
"Yeah," Seth and David both nodded. "Not much music at this supposed music festival. We've had to find other ways to entertain ourselves." "Us too." I flashed a grin at Julye. "Hey, I've never been one to leave a couple of damsels in distress," David said. "You can't stay in a ruined tent. Why don't you get your things and come with us."
"Okay." Julye and I shrugged and while David and Seth held the tent open, we gathered our stuff together, and then followed them through the slick, muddy grounds. "Where are you guys staying?" Julye asked. I could tell from the sound of her voice, she was hoping they'd say the nearest hotel, but David gestured toward the field beyond the partition separating the vendors and sideshows from the backstage area.
"We have this massive tent we set up everywhere we go. It feels like we're in the fucking circus, but it works." A loud crack of thunder shook the grounds, and David lowered his arms across our shoulders to shuffle us along more quickly. "You're welcome to stay with us as long as you need to, but we should warn you now…" He glanced over at Seth for a second, then looked back to first Julye and then me. "Things in the tent are a little… how do I put this?"
"Dirty," Seth said. Julye snorted a laughed. "If you haven't noticed, we're already filthy. This weekend has been like one big mud wrestling match." "When we say dirty…" David shrugged one shoulder up to his ear, "we're not exactly talking about the mud." "You'll see," Seth assured us, and without another word they led us toward their circus tent of
debauchery. The first thing I saw when David peeled back the tent flaps was flesh. Naked flesh and writhing bodies, soft moans, ecstatic cries, asses in the air and restraints glinting in the dull lights flickering through the tent; it was like the carnival of lust between those flaps. Julye's gaze shifted toward me, her right eyebrow twitched upward and a tempted grin played on her lips. "It is dirty in there," she turned
that excited gaze to David, and for a second I swore he blushed underneath the sharp slices of brown hair covering his cheeks. "How did we miss this, Rach?" she asked, linking her arm through mine. "Ladies," Seth began, ushering us forward and into the tent, "welcome to Fuckapalooza!" "Fuckapalooza?" I turned back over my shoulder to see if he was being serious, though the sweaty
slap of bodies all around me should have told me all I needed to know. "There's only one rule if you girls want to stay," David said. Julye and I assumed similar stances, arms crossed over our wet t-shirts and heads tilted in anticipation of his stipulation. "No clothes," he said. "Unless you're going outside the tent, but as long as you're inside those flaps, clothes off."
"Oh thank god!" I started to lift my soaking wet top away from my chest. Julye started with her shorts, quickly unbuttoning and then sliding them down over her thighs. "There's nothing worse than walking around in the humidity wearing wet clothes," I added, stepping out of my shoes, pulling off my shorts and then slipping my panties down. Seth and David stripped out of their clothes too, and stood naked
beside us, their cocks dangling halfhard between their legs. I don't know what happened to our clothes, or our belongings. Seth immediately stepped in, put one hand on each of our shoulders and led us into the fuck fray. His hand slid down the small of my back as we walked, stepping carefully around the intensely focused groups laid out on the floor exploring every carnal lust known to man. I scanned the tent, taking in
as much as I could in one quick glance, and then turned my attention to Julye to make sure she was okay with what we were about to enter into. Her eager eyes flitted around, stopping for a moment to watch four beautiful women lying in the most beautiful circle tasting and tongue each other's glistening pussies. When she returned her gaze to me, I knew what she was thinking, and I couldn't help but
hope the fantasy flashing through her mind somehow came true. Dave wasted no time. He quickly drew me into his arms and lowered his mouth over mine, while Seth grabbed Julye and began squeezing her ass in his firm hands. It wasn't long before David lowered me to the ground, his hands roving over my curves and his eyes following, but I was watching Julye arch her back as Seth dropped down to nibble on her snatch.
"Are you lesbians?" David asked, catching my wandering stare. "Bisexual," I said, reaching down to gently stroke his hard cock and assure him it was more than welcome in my pussy. He had a nice dick, just around seven and a half inches at full capacity, and average in girth. I fondled the swollen, purple tip and he closed his eyes, releasing a slow, breathy moan. "Nice," he hissed between clenched teeth. "You're an equal
opportunity purveyor." "Mm-hmm." I squeezed his sensitive head between my fingers and lifted my legs around his hips to let him know I was ready for him. He pushed his cock into my snatch with three slow pumps, and began bucking his hips against mine. I couldn't keep my eyes off Julye, who'd thrown her head back to mutter pleasurable encouragement to Seth, who's
darting pink tongue swirled quickly around her clit. "She likes to be finger fucked while you eat her," I told him. "Yes," Julye whimpered. "I do." Seth lifted his face, his goatee slick and dripping with Julye's hot juices. "You're an expert on her pussy?" "She really is," Julye said, while David continued to casually move
his cock in and out. "I could show you," I said. With a raised eyebrow, Seth said, "Okay." Julye rose and then lowered herself backward over me, her sweet ass hovering just above and her wet pussy dripping onto my chin. I wrapped my arms around her thighs and drew her down into my mouth, my tongue quickly slipping deep into her hole,
tightening as I rolled it around inside her. I retracted my tongue and slid her back so I could suckle the hard nub of her clit, and then began to pump two of my fingers in and out while she glided her cunt across my eager face. "Wow," Seth whispered, kneeling at the back of my head and bending down to tangle tongues with me while we both ate Julye's pussy. She was kissing David, who continued to fuck me, but soon her
wandering fingers found my clit and began stroking like a pro as he pounded into me. Our pleasured cries joined the constant chorus of moans and whimpers, and while the rain hadn't brought much in the way of actual music at that festival, that chorus was sweet music to my ears. A shadow hovered at my left, and when I opened my eyes to break from devouring Julye with Seth, I saw a well-hung god of a
man lingering on the sidelines watching the four of us fuck and suck each other silly. "Mind if I join you?" he asked, lowering his hand to rest on Seth's shoulder. Seth had untangled his tongue from mine and traveled up to flick around her asshole, but wordlessly invited the new stranger to join in. Now I'd always been turned on by the thought of two men giving into whim and going with the flow, so
when the new guy dropped down beside me and reached to stroke Seth's cock, I almost came right then and there. Though I wanted to focus on Julye, both the feel of her working fingers jerking my clit while David fucked me and my own desire to please her, the perpetual stroke of my tongue and fingers slowed as I watched our new partner wet the tip of Seth's cock with his swirling tongue before lowering his mouth over the length of Seth's shaft.
I was so turned on, I wildly bucked my hips against David and Julye, who were intent and focused on making me cream. Though I turned my attention back to pleasuring Julye with my lips and fingers, while David lapped at her ass, I allowed myself the occasional peek at that hot guy sucking Seth's cock until I finally reached my free hand out to stroke the stranger's dick while he pleased Seth. My quick pumping hips must
have been too much for David, because it was only a matter of minutes before I felt him pull out and shoot hot spurts of cum all over my pussy. Julye scrambled forward to suck the taste of my cunt off his dick, and then slurped every last drop of David's cum out of my snatch with her velvet soft tongue. David reclined beside us, stroking his spent cock while watching Julye dive deep into my muff, and without her hovering
snatch blocking my mouth, I found the new guy easing up to stuff his massive dick between my empty lips. He positioned himself leaning over me, still bent over and sucking Seth off while grinding his meaty cock against the back of my throat. I couldn't see what was going on, but I felt Julye methodically bumping my snatch with her mouth and realized someone else had slipped in behind her to start ramming her in the ass while she
lapped and slurped at my cunt with aching moans of pleasure. I soon lost track of who was fucking and sucking whom as more bodies piled into our delightful orgy. I sucked every cock that pushed its way into my mouth, stroking them hard and fast until they shot their load all over my face. Hot titties bounce down into my face, rubbing into the cum that painted me before nipples brushed across my lips, an open invitation to
suckle and lick the cum clean before the owner of those sweet tits would climb onto my face and glide her pussy against my lips. Another woman joined her atop my face, their cunts sliding together as I dashed my tongue between their wet holes and jammed my hips into the cock now pounding away furiously at my own pussy. I lost track of Julye in the crowd, but I could still her trademark whimpers and took even more
pleasure in knowing that somewhere, someone was giving it to her good. It went on like that for hours, or maybe it was days, as we rolled from partner to partner, so many bodies sliding against my own in the ultimate search for pleasure. I came again and again thanks to so many pleasuring mouths and slippery pussies against my own and jamming hard cocks filling my cunt and ass until I thought I would
explode. There was a brief moment of respite where I found myself staring at the striped ceiling of the tent, my eyes glazed with pleasure and my body soft as a puddle there on the floor. I saw Julye lying a few feet away, her legs up around her ears while a guy we'd never know by name rammed her pussy with fast, hard strokes. I reached out to tangle my fingers into hers, and she turned exalted eyes to smile at me.
I opened my mouth to say something to her, but no sooner had my lips parted than another cock made its way between them, pumping and ready to blow. I don't remember much about the flight home the next afternoon, only Julye leaning her head into mine with a whisper of a yawn before she clenched my fingers in hers and said, "Long live Fuckapalooza!"
CONFESSIONS OF A SEX ADDICT 12 STEPS BACK
I took a deep breath and tried to ignore the fluttering of my own heart. They were staring at me. All of their beady little eyes watching, waiting for me to confess all my dirty sins in one exhale so I could take the first step toward healing and recovery. I felt ridiculous up there. Healing and recovery... what a crock of shit! Why was it so wrong to love love something that felt so right?
Society was seriously messed up if they thought they could stop people from having sex with a twelve-step program and a heavy layer of guilt. God, I wanted nothing more in the world than to find the strength to walk out the door and never look back, but I couldn't do that. My husband Kenny was counting on me to see this through, and after everything I'd done to him in the last five years, I couldn't let him down again.
I swallowed my pride and allowed the air that filled my lungs to deflate in one long sigh that fluttered the loose pieces of hair that dangled over my brow. "Hi," I began, my voice cracking under the pressure of that one word. "My name is Lila and…" And what? I was a slut? A whore? And I had a problem with sex? The absurdity of those words alone was almost enough to make me laugh.
"And I… I am… I guess I am a sex addict." A chorus of greetings circulated the room, a combination of male and female voices, young and old, fat and thin, stunning and hideous. My inner-cynic wondered how in the hell someone as fat and dirty as the greasy guy taking up half of the second row could possibly be a sex addict, the power of his hungry gaze as he stared me down told me far more than I'd ever want to know
about him. "Welcome Lila." The group leader's name was Grace, and judging from the smug, yet peaceful look she wore, I couldn't imagine anyone like her had ever fallen, but Kenny had promised me that everyone in the group would be like me. "Do you feel comfortable telling us why you're here?" I didn't feel comfortable with any of it, and as I surveyed the door again, my conscience battled the
burning urge inside me to bolt into the night and never look back. "Uh…" I looked down at my hands, a mixture of shame and discomfort burning in my cheeks. "I guess I'm here to try and save my marriage." Grace nodded, and as I glanced into the sea of faces before me, I caught a few other knowing nods as well. It didn't give me much confidence, but I swallowed my pride and dove in. "I've been cheating on him since
before we were even married," I admitted. "And not just like once or twice, but all the time," I said. "On our wedding day, I had sex with all the groomsmen before we even said our vows, and at the reception I fucked my father-in-law in the… Can I say that? That I fucked someone?" It was Grace's turn to blush a little, and I found myself wondering once again just how tainted someone like her could be. "Say
whatever you need to say to make yourself comfortable, Lila." A thin, embarrassed smile drew at the corners of my mouth, but quickly faded once I remembered they were all staring at me like a pack of starving wolves. "So anyway," I went on, "I had sex with my father-in-law at the wedding reception. I guess that's not exactly a good start to a marriage." "We are not about judgment here, Lila," Grace told me. "We have
all been there, and some of us are still there now, struggling to overcome our inner-demons." "I didn't even know I had demons," I admitted. "I mean, sure, I've always loved sex. Even before I knew what it was, I used to masturbate almost nonstop because I couldn't get enough of that wonderful feeling whenever I came. The out-of-control sense of freedom and release, the carrying of that dirty little secret… It's always
turned me on. Then I started having sex and once I started, I just wanted more and more and more, every day, all the time. "And Kenny and I, that's my husband, Kenny," I explained. "Kenny and I have been together since we were in high school. We broke up off and on because I just wanted more, but he always forgave me and drew me back in because he said he couldn't live without me. He said once we were married and had
kids, I would settle down, but it just didn't happen that way. "I mean… no matter how hard I try, I can't stop. I wake up in the morning and tell myself that today is the day I'm going to do the right thing, but then I'll see someone in the grocery store that I just have to fuck and… and then it all just spirals out of control from there and I'm right back to where I started." They were nodding again, almost
half the people in the room silently agreeing with everything I said as if they'd been there. My gaze lingered on an older man in an impeccable grey suit, his piercing blue eyes meeting mine and almost answering the beast inside me with his own primordial howl of lust. In that moment all I could thing about was tearing that neat suit from his body like a rabid animal and feeding my need with his hot, naked flesh. I cleared my throat and looked
away, back down at my hands for a moment before going on. "I love my husband. He is my best friend. He's been there for me in times that would have torn any other man apart, but if I don't get this under control, he's going to leave me. He's going to take our kids and leave me, and I'll be left all alone." It might have seemed small to someone else, but in the end that was my biggest fear: being alone. Not just being alone, but being
without Kenny because I really did love him. Grace was talking again. I couldn't really hear what she was saying because my head was spinning with that recurring realization that if I didn't do something to try and fix that part of me that was broken, I would lose everything I had. My husband, my children, my life… It was all I thought about as I made my way back to my seat and tried to force
myself to listen to the other addicts confess their crimes. I couldn't focus, as much as I tried. All I could think about was that flash of fantasy that burned inside me when I'd locked eyes with the gentleman in the grey suit. My imagination ran wild with thoughts of his hard mouth on mine, his soft moist tongue squeezing between my lips as his roaming hands frantically hiked my skirt up around my hips and yanked my panties
aside to get at the warm, waiting prize between my thighs. I could almost feel his cock inside me, pushing through the aching folds of my cunt as he rushed upward to fill me until I cried and begged for sweet release from the hell and torment of holding back. It had been six weeks since I'd been with a man, and that last man had been my husband. He'd been reluctant to give in then, swearing that he was only feeding the beast
inside me that needed to be denied until it starved and finally died. I didn't think that was actually going to work. The beast was too strong, and while I'd been feeding it with dildo-induced orgasms and wild fantasy as often as I could find a moment alone, it wasn't enough. Besides, how would our marriage survive without intimacy? I didn't know the answers, but I did know one thing. I needed cock. Big cock, small cock, fat cock, thin
cock… it didn't matter. If I didn't get fucked and fast, I was going to explode and not in a way I would feel good about. I was fidgeting in my seat, the metal chair squeaking under the bare skin on the backs of my thighs and the feet scraping across the floor enough to garner attention from the two women seated at the end of my aisle. They were both attractive enough, and as I imagined the grope of their hungry
hands all over my body, their probing fingers and anxious mouths, chills of need pricked beneath my skin. I needed to get off. I glanced toward the door at the back of the room and then the clock. There was no strict time limit on meetings, at least that's what they'd told us on the phone. Maybe I could skip out early, hook up with someone at the bar I'd seen two blocks up the street and get home
before Kenny even knew the difference. I looked at the door again, and then I heard the rising chatter of the group reciting their mantra together as they yielded control of their desires to a higher power and asked for that power to grant them the strength to carry on another day. And then they were breaking, mingling together near the refreshment table while I sat glued to my chair and tried to figure out
what my next move should be. Would I have time to hit that bar on the way home, get off in the bathroom stall and soothe the writhing, screaming, hungry beast inside me? The itch in my blood was unbearable, and I was just about to break for the door when a deep, masculine voice reached out from my left. "Cream and two sugars," he said. "I'm never wrong, but there's a first time for everything."
I glanced up and over my shoulder. The man in the grey suit stood beside my chair. He was holding two steaming Styrofoam cups in his hands, one of them extended toward me. I reached out reluctantly, taking the cup of coffee from him. "Cream and two sugars," I nodded and lifted it to my lips. Bittersweet warmth touched my tastebuds, and while it wasn't exactly the tastiest cup of coffee I'd ever had, his unique gift
to guess my preference intrigued me. "That's quite a talent you've got." "I'm a people person," he said. "A salesman, actually. I make it my business to know what people need before they even know they need it. Unfortunately, I can't control the awfulness of this coffee, but hopefully the gesture was well received." He paused for a second and then held his hand out to me. "Frank," he said.
"Lila." The warmth of his skin only seemed to intensify the buzz of electric hunger humming through my body, and though there had to be some strange psychological connection, the fact that he reminded me of my father-in-law made that connection feel stronger. His smile was casually seductive, a grinning tiger hiding between the shadowy fronds in a dangerous jungle. I wondered, as I lifted my
head to meet his gaze, just how accurate his gift really was. Could he sense how badly I needed to be fucked, or was I just in such bad shape that I was willing to read every sign as a possible come on. "Grace nudged me in your direction, mentioned you might be looking for a sponsor." "A sponsor," I nodded. "Right. I'm still so new to all of this. What exactly does a sponsor do?"
"Provide support in times of need, an ear when no one else seems to understand what you're going through, a shoulder…" I took another tentative sip of the coffee in my cup, and my face must have shown just how bitter it tasted because Frank's smile widened and he stepped back to look over his shoulder at the clock on the wall. "Would you like to come sit down and have a cup of coffee with me? There's a little café
about a block from here." "I don't know." Internally, I wanted more than just coffee from Frank, but the nag of my conscience was still there under the surface. "It's getting late. I should probably head home." Frank nodded slowly, the pink tip of his tongue slowly moistening his lower lip. "I understand. It isn't easy opening up on such a personal level. Coming here in the first place was probably one of the hardest
things you've ever done. I'll tell you what," he began, reaching into the inner pocket of his suit jacket. "I'm going to give you my card, and after you've had a couple days to think about everything, give me a call and we can go have that coffee." "Thank you." I took the card and just held it in my hand, fingertips rubbing the smooth cardstock, the raised surface of his name. I glanced down at the letters, FRANK HARDING. "I will think it over."
"Good," he nodded. "I hope to hear from you." I didn't want him to walk away, but he did. I mean really, what was one recovering sex addict supposed to say to another? Especially one who'd obviously been in recovery long enough to be considered responsible sponsor material. I highly doubted asking him to fuck me would go over very well. I bent down to pick up my purse from the floor and stood up. I surveyed the
room one last time, not sure I could ever let myself come back—even if it did mean saving my marriage. A part of me loved the thrill far too much to ever give it up. I made my way unnoticed through the milling crowd and stepped out into the night air. The breeze cooled my flushed skin, rustling through my hair like a lover's hand. Walking toward the parking lot, the addict inside me wanted to rush back into the
building and give in to Frank's request to have coffee. Maybe he wasn't a very good sponsor… maybe I could convince him to give me what I needed. "It's a crock of shit." The sound of that voice startled me, and I almost dropped my purse in my haste to grab at my chest. "The whole group meeting thing. It's a waste of time." The shadow who spoke leaned against my car, and though I
couldn't make him out or tell if I recognized him from inside, when he stood to his full height, I noted that he was incredibly tall and lanky. "Excuse me?" "The meetings… they're a waste. I've been coming here for years and they've never done me a damn bit of good." "Oh…" I took a tentative step toward the car, a part of me thrilled
by the prospect of this stranger in the dark. "This is my first time." "I know," he nodded. "Lila," he added. "Lila whose husband made her come here." "I don't remember seeing you inside." I was just a few feet away from him, but he was still shrouded in shadows, the meager orange glow of the streetlight several cars down barely enough to illuminate his features.
"No one ever does," he said. "I kind of like it that way. It keeps me… honest." "What's your name?" "Does it matter?" I was now standing just inches from the mysterious stranger and could almost make out his features. He had strong cheekbones and a long nose, straight black hair that rested on his shoulders. I watched him shrug it to his back as he stood
up straighter and stepped away from the car. "Let's go somewhere," he said. An alarmed, guilt-laden voice nagged inside me, a voice I had only recently begun to listen to. He reached out and grasped my hand tugging me closer while drawing himself into the light. A pair of stunning green eyes bore down into me, not just willing me to comply, but silently commanding
my inner beast to answer the call of the wild. "I shouldn't," I protested. "But you will." How could he possibly know that? Unless he was like me… someone who understood exactly what it felt like to need something so badly, only to be denied. Wordlessly, I followed him across the parking lot to his car, knowing that slipping into the passenger seat
of a stranger's car was a dangerous move. He opened the door for me and waited until I was inside before closing it behind me. At least he was a gentleman stranger. Behind the wheel, he didn't look at me as he backed out of the lot and turned left into the alley. He avoided several of the main streets in town, finally turning down a side street that led onto a back road. With no street lights shedding brilliance into the interior, he
removed his hand from the gearshift and rested it on my bare thigh. His palm was warm, slightly moist with anxious sweat that heated my cool skin as he moved slowly upward and lifted my skirt as he went. It was hard for him to drive with his hand reaching almost desperately between my thighs, so I reached across the space between us and quickly unbuckled his belt. I twisted open the button at the top
of his jeans and felt his cock rise against my probing hand as I slid the zipper downward. He inhaled through clenched teeth as my cold hand wrapped around the stiff, warm shaft and began gently stroking him as he drove. The interior of the car was cramped, otherwise I would have leaned over and sucked his cock to keep him wanting. Instead, I just kept stroking and hoping like hell he knew where he was going and
had plans to get there fast. The soft green glow of the dashboard lights offered just enough illumination for me to watch his facial expressions, the excitement in his eyes growing, his mouth pinching tight than gasping wide open as he delighted in the constant pull and tug of my hand. "Oh yeah," he muttered. "Stroke it fast. Stroke me hard." Even with his zipper all the way down it was difficult to access his
full length, which excited me more than mere words could ever express. He was definitely proportionate for a man as tall as he was. The crotch of my underwear was damp and sticky with need, and if he didn't pull over soon and fuck me, I was going to lose my mind. His own need must have been more than he could take because when we were miles from what felt like civilization on some dusty dirt road, he jammed on the brakes and
parked beside an old cemetery underneath a canopy of leafless trees. He didn't even bother zipping up his pants as he scrambled to get out of the car, and when I met him at the front bumper he gripped the back of my neck and swept me into a hungry, powerful kiss. Soft, wet, warm… His tongue glided and stiffened against mine in a ritualistic dance so primal only animals could understand. His arms tightened against my back, long
fingers sliding down my ass as he reached to grip the hem of my skirt. He hiked it up with an almost violent jerk and then nestled his forearms beneath my ass cheeks to lift me against his groin. Even through my panties, I could feel his stiff cock rising to meet me, pleading to tear beyond the thin, moist layer of cotton separating our bodies. He laid me back against the hood of the car, hot metal warming
my skin against the chill of the night air, and then he positioned himself between my legs. Eager fingers wrapped beneath the elastic at the sides of my panties and in one swift pull, he brought them down to my knees and slid one leg out, leaving them dangling on my ankle. Lifting my legs up around his hips, he hiked me across the hood and then bore down on me so hard I felt the air rush from my lungs in an almost painful gasp.
Probing the bulging head of his cock around my slippery hole, I inched closer, softly pleading, "Fuck me." "Yeah," he growled, stuffing himself through my layers and into the soft folds of my hungry, dripping pussy. "Yeah, you're so wet." Grinding down hard, he stretched me wide open as he sheathed his massive cock ballsdeep inside me. I cried out in bliss, lifting my
hips up to take him in as deep as he could go. God, he felt amazing, sliding in and pulling out, his heavy balls slapping just above my ass with every eager thrust. I was dripping, my juices coating his sack and splashing in cold drops against my skin each time he battered into me. All of the fear and anxiety that had built up over the last few months was suddenly gone, and for that fleeting moment I felt alive
again. Bucking up to meet his thrusts, I was myself again, the woman I had always been, that deep inside I knew I always wanted to be. In that moment I didn't care if what I was wrong, if I was breaking my promise to my husband, forsaking everything I'd sworn to try in order to save our marriage. That stranger's dick felt so good inside me, stroking through my tightly squeezed muscles, and if he could just pick up the pace and fuck me a little faster, it wouldn't take me
long at all to get off. "Fuck me harder," I pleaded. "Faster." He drew back fast and hammered down hard, my ass bouncing off the hood of his car with the force of his every push. Underneath my blouse I could feel my nipples hardening on account of the cold and the thrill of what I was doing. I knew nothing about this man, not even his name. He could have been some psycho serial killer
for all I knew, but that only seemed to thrill me even more. "You like that, you dirty little whore?" he grunted, pounding down deep and thrusting upward before drawing his hips back and punching in again. "You like to get fucked." "I love to get fucked!" I cried. His chest crushed down on mine and the sandpaper scrape of his chin against my cheek sent
shuddering chills through my body. "I'm gonna fuck your ass until you scream." "Yes! Fuck my ass! Fuck my ass hard." He slid out of me and grabbed me by the shirt, maneuvering me in a quick, violent turn so I was face down on the hood of the car. He hiked my ass up higher and as soon as I felt the curious poke of his head edging toward my asshole, I clenched in eager anticipation. He
was dripping wet with my juices, but he still spit onto his fingers and smeared them around my hole for extra lubrication. It had been ages since I'd had my ass reamed, and once he began pushing his way into that tight cavern, my strangled cries of excitement caught in my throat. He worked in slow, each tiny push increasing my bliss. I couldn't even remember the last time I'd had a cock that huge in my ass, but it felt good. Easing every stroke
through until I loosened up enough for him to really fuck me, I gripped the hood just under the windshield wipers and held on tight while he piston-hammered in and out. Cheek pressed against the cold metal, frigid air rushed against my skin, but neither of them was enough to cool the fire burning inside me. Every time he was full-hilt, he groaned as I bounced my cheeks hard into his hips, and then drew back again for another grand slam.
I didn't think about the sex addicts group, or my promise to try to work through whatever sexual issues I obviously had, but I did think about my husband. Fleeting flashes of his sad brown eyes surfaced in my mind, spurring on soft pulses of guilt that should have stopped me. Instead, they only seemed to excite me more, as if knowing what I was getting away with was almost enough in itself to make me cum.
Reaching his hand around my hip, his long fingers began to skillfully tickle and stroke my clit. I bucked under his teasing, the overwhelming exciting building in my stomach and promises to explode like Fourth of July fireworks through my entire body. "Right there," I pleaded. "Oh yeah, right there." Diving fingers rivaled the punching strokes of his dick in my ass and his brushing thumb danced
deliciously across my swollen clit. When the hot waves of rippling release began to tremble through me, he picked up his pace, driving home every orgasm with jackhammer power and precision. "I'm cumming," he told me, his body growing stiff with the onset of release. In tiny, jerking spasms, he pulled out of my ass and drew his hand around to stroke himself until a hot, gushing flood of cum spurted from his swollen, purple head. He
painted my bare ass and thighs with his seed, jerking and slapping himself until the last long jet of cum sprayed onto my skin. For a moment he just stood behind me catching his breath, his spent cock still half-hard in his hand. I laid there on the hood, enjoying the slow chills of receding pleasure as they danced against my skin. Soon, the guilt would come, but for the moment I felt incredible. So alive, a slow-burning brush fire
on the cusp of flickering out, but for the moment all that mattered was that fire. I was never going to get over whatever it was the drove me to do the things I did, not when the feeling was that intense. Not when the mere thought of some stranger's hands all over my body sent me into near orgasm. We drove back to the parking lot in silence, and while I ticked through my own tape of guilt, I only
wondered for a fleeting second what he was thinking about. Did he have a wife at home who would never understand what he had done, or the need that forced him to seek out the touch of someone, anyone looking to get off? I didn't thank him or say goodnight as I stepped out of his car and glanced around the parking lot. There was only one car besides my own, and for a moment I was relieved that it wasn't my husband come to find out what was taking me so long to
get home. He pulled away almost as soon as I'd shut the door, and I walked on shaking legs toward my waiting car. I heard the metallic clang of a door banging shut and glanced up across the street just in time to see someone coming out of the community building. Frank Harding met my gaze, and for a fleeting second I swore he knew. Before he could stalk across the parking lot with a full-helping of judgment, I
ducked into my car, started it and sped out of the parking lot like a bat out of hell. The dashboard clock blared ten o'clock and my imagination was suddenly teaming with fear that Kenny was at home pacing the floors and tallying up every wrong I'd ever done so he could toss it in my face the minute I walked through the door. But when I ducked quietly into the house, I saw him snoozing on
the couch, the quiet television playing some documentary. He barely lifted his head to smile at me, gesturing with one hand to our sleeping two-year-old son on his chest. "A little help, maybe?" I nodded and tip-toed into the living room, scooping up the baby and hugging him to my chest as I carried him back the hallway and put him into his crib. After laying a kiss on his forehead, I tucked the
blanket in around him and walked slowly out to face the music that surely awaited me. I lingered at the end of the hallway, not wanting to get too close for fear he'd smell my sin. "How'd it go?" he raised a hopeful eyebrow, those brown eyes I'd imagined judging me soft with loving concern. I didn't deserve him, and I knew it, but I couldn't let go. I couldn't be without him. "It went okay," I said,
nodding slowly. "It was a little weird, I guess… but it was okay." "Yeah?" I nodded again. "Yeah." "So, you think you'll go back?" I thought about Frank Harding, not sure I could face a veteran abstainer knowing that he knew what I'd done, but Kenny looked so gentle, so filled with hope that the least I could for the moment was
lie. I'd figure it all out in the shower, or in the morning after I'd had a chance to sleep on it. "Sure," I said. "I'll go back." "Good." He almost seemed relieved, as if he'd expected the worst. If he only knew, I thought… "I'm gonna go take a shower," I told him. "That place felt so dirty." "Okay." He smiled, actually smiled, and the guilt I wouldn't let
myself feel while I was getting assfucked on the hood of the car came rushing through me. But just like that I walked away. Locked behind the safety of the bathroom door, I stripped out of my clothes and for a moment I thought about burning them. I knew it wouldn't make a difference. It wouldn't burn away what I had done. As I ducked beneath the steaming hot beads, I rested my
face against the tiled wall of the shower and let my sins wash down the drain. I didn't know if I could really go back to that place, face those people or even potentially run into the stranger I'd had sex with less than half an hour earlier. I had a lot to think about, a lot to process, and most of it had to do with how much of myself I was willing to give up for the sake of recovery.
HorrorErotik THE COMPLETE VAMPIRE COLLECTION
TO FUCK A VAMPIRE
"I don't care what they say in their guarantee." Alahna backed away from the computer and turned to pour herself another cup of coffee. "That can't be real. I mean come on, Shayna. Vampires? If they were really prowling around among us, don't you think we'd know? It's a scam." Shayna St. Claire restarted the video from the beginning, her curious eyes watching the feast of
flesh as soft moans mingled with primal growls of lust and hunger. The supposed vampire in the video lifted his face from between the thighs of the woman writhing against the bloodstained white sheets, his mouth smeared and fangs glistening with dark, crimson liquid. Long strands of blond hair hung like a curtain in his face, clinging to his bloody cheeks and almost hiding the mesmerizing, white-blue eyes staring straight into the camera.
He was beautiful, and Shayna felt her fingers twitching toward the screen, longing to reach out and roll across the muscular haven of his broad chest. He was incredibly pale, the porcelain of his skin shining under the studio lighting and drawing even more attention to the bright red spatters of blood dotting his stomach and chest. Alahna slid in behind her again, leaning over her shoulder to watch. Her tongue clucked against the roof
of her mouth and a sigh escaped her. "The blood doesn't even look real," she said. "I mean seriously… You get better results from corn syrup and red food coloring." "It looks awful real to me," Shayna swallowed with a soft gulp. Shayna watched the vampire lower his mouth back over the gushing femoral artery and almost violently suck while his fastramming fingers plunged in and out of the moaning woman's dripping
wet pussy. She bucked beneath his probing fingers, her own hand tangled in his long blond hair and pushing him down hard, as if he were eating her pussy, not drinking her blood. Shayna could feel her panties growing warm and damp as her fantasy came alive in front of her. He rolled the woman onto her stomach and jerked her ass up in front of him. Without so much as a guiding hand, he rammed his rock-
hard shaft into her pussy and began to jam her hips backward again and again, slamming her so hard she threw her head back and howled. The speed of his thrust was almost unreal, the muscles in his ass flexing and squeezing as he pounded away at the ecstatic woman pleading for some strange twist on mercy. "Oh God!" she whimpered over the continual current of skin slapping wet skin. "Don't stop!
Please God, don't stop!" "Good grief," Alahna groaned. "She is so faking it!" "Shut up," Shayna muttered, her eyes glued to the scene. She focused especially on his stiff cock, the incredible length gliding in and out so quickly it seemed unnatural. Was it a trick of the camera, or was he really fucking her that fast? The woman on the bed began to convulse and shudder, crying out
release, but then the vampire grabbed onto her hair and yanked her head back. He lifted his face to the camera again, bared his fangs and jerked her neck up to his mouth. The ivory enamel of his fangs disappeared into her flesh, blood trickling down her bare back while he continued hammering away at her from behind. "Oh wow." Shayna lifted a hand to her mouth. "Wow, that's… that's just hot. It looks so real."
"You're crazy," Alahna moved away from the computer again. Shayna watched as the woman whimpered and moaned under the pressure of his clamped mouth, blood painting his pale skin and the bed sheets in what could only be described as horrific beauty. Shayna wanted that. She'd always wanted it. She clicked back to the front page of the website and scanned the content for more details. Even if it was some kind of high-tech special
effect with really good makeup, it could quite possibly be the closest she'd ever come to fucking a vampire. "Ooh, it says here on their front page they're looking for adult female, human actresses." She clicked on the link and waited for it to load. "HorrorErotik Art Films presents: To Fuck a Vampire. An Adult Experience Unlike Any Other. To set up an audition, email three nude, full-body shots to
Sven_Masters[at]vampmale[dot]com she read aloud, "and someone will be in touch with you to schedule." "You aren't really considering sending that guy an email," Alahna started, "are you? I mean, I know you've got this full-on chick boner for the whole vampire thing, Shayna, but this could be dangerous. And not because they're vampires, because they're weirdo, kidnapping murderers, or something. Vampires aren't real!"
"But what if they are?" Shayna sighed. Her roommate was right. She did have a seriously unhealthy obsession with vampires, and it had haunted her as long as she could remember. Vivid memories of fingering herself beneath the quilt while watching Dracula confess to Mina that he couldn't make her a vampire because he loved her too much to condemn her still lingered in the back of her mind. To want
someone so much even though it was ten ways 'til Tuesday wrong… it was an idealistic thought she often kept to herself for fear of ridicule from the downright cynical and sarcastic. Like Alahna, whom she loved with all her heart, even though her sardonic commentary from the back of the chair was really getting under Shayna's skin. Her secret obsession had led her on a long and winding search. Most of the guys she dated she met in
goth clubs packed with black latexclad wannabes and off-the-charts techno jams. She stuck out like a sore thumb there, an ordinary everyday girl with an appetite for something dark, but no desire to make a display of it. The goth boys flocked to her like moths to a flame because she was different than all the white-painted girls with jetblack hair and ruby lips. They liked to come home with her, and she'd welcomed her fair
share; an attempt at stirring her fantasy that much closer to reality, but few even knew how to bite her just right, much less keep up the vampiric illusion long enough to really satisfy her craving or inspire any thoughts of a second helping, much less a forever fuck. "I swear, if you even so much as think about sending naked pictures of yourself to that email, I will have you committed," Alahna warned, but Shayna's finger was already
poised over the email link, the cursor hovering and ready to click… It was a risk. They were filming vampire porn, for god's sake, but even if they weren't really vampires, it might boost her comparison for the ultimate experience up a notch. Then there was her job. No one at work had a clue just how deep her eternal obsession probed. The other librarians thought she was a quirky romantic with a strange fondness for old monster movies
starring Christopher Lee and Vincent Price, but none even so much as suspected that Shayna often left work to search the after dark club scene. And while she was relatively sure none of them trolled the internet for bizarre, vampire fetish porn, one could never be too sure. No one would have ever suspected it from her, and there she was considering it. She drew her hand off the mouse and let a sigh escape her
lips. She didn't even have any naked pictures of herself anyway, and hadn't the first idea where she'd go about getting such a thing. Maybe she could use her webcam, she thought, glancing back over her shoulder where Alahna was stuffing her purse in preparation to leave for work. The webcam could work, and soon she'd be home all alone to test it out. "Don't do anything crazy, Shay," Alahna said, dropping down to kiss
the top of her head on her way out the door. But Shayna was already opening up her webcam program and scanning the apartment for the perfect place to set up her private photo shoot.
***
"Goth girl… goth girl… I don't
even know what the fuck that is supposed to be. Goth girl…goth girl… Oh for fuck's sake," Dylan swore, punching his back against the chair behind him and huffing the cropped slice of hair brown hair off his cheek. "It's goddamn ridiculous, is what it is." "They're like a disease." Sven leaned forward into the desk, templing his fingers under his chin and watching Dylan's eyes arch toward the ceiling in frustration.
"Perhaps we should have made our description more clear," he said. "How about an all-caps disclaimer at the bottom of the page: NO FUCKING GOTH GIRLS!" The angry rise in his tone made Sven chuckle—a rare sound that perked up Dylan's ears and garnered a spike of his brow. "Is it so much to ask for a nice, normal woman?" Sven wondered aloud. "Maybe someone who works as an office assistant by day or a
librarian..." "I like librarians," Dylan agreed, smacking his lips. "Surrounded by wisdom all day, I swear it soaks into their blood and makes it richer. Oh, and teachers too. They're delicious." "There's got to be someone out there whose roots aren't begging for a touch-up," Sven said, a long, unnecessary breath deflating his broad chest. "Someone looking for more than…" Sven's voice trailed off, lost in thought as he tried to
define in his mind exactly what he wanted. Someone who wasn't so obsessed with death and blood they begged him to sink his fangs into their throat and bleed them dry, maybe. It was odd how many people did that once they found out what he was, and while he loved to feed while he fucked just as much as the next guy, something about the fuck me, kill me mentality had always turned him off. "We'll find someone," Dylan
promised. "Someone worthy of your eternal attentions." "I hope so," he said. "If I have to plunge my cock into one more morbid little thing with a death wish, I swear it'll never get hard again…" "Oh, what's this?" Dylan perked up, leaning in to inspect the laptop screen. "We got another one." "Probably another Little Miss Scare All." Sven fell comfortably
back into his chair and rested his hands in his lap. He watched Dylan's eyes widen with mild interest, the left corner of his full mouth tugging into a grin. "Not exactly," Dylan said. "She looks young, early to mid-twenties, I'd say. Dark brown hair, green eyes, no makeup," he described her. "Long legs, the kind you'd like to wrap around that thick waist of yours, that's for sure." "Let me see that." Sven reached
forward and spun the laptop around to have a look. Her pictures weren't professional in the least, webcam shots, he suspected, but their lack professionalism made her more endearing. And her legs… Dylan was right about those. They seemed to go on forever and ever, and the tiny patch of brown hair nestled in between them revealed no more than a hint of pretty pink petals. "She is stunning," he remarked. "What does her email say?"
"Blah, blah, blah, not sure if this is real, blah, blah… Watched the sample video… I've always wanted to fuck a vampire." "Well," Sven's eyes darted from picture to picture, settling in to rest on the stunning green eyes staring out from the middle photograph. "We wouldn't want to deny her the opportunity to fulfill her fantasy now, would we?" "Of course not." Dylan rolled the laptop back around and hit Reply.
While he typed the invitation to audition, Sven sat back in his chair, once more tenting his fingers together, but this time grinning with hopeful expectation.
***
Shayna exited the taxi, her legs wobbling beneath her as she stepped up onto the curb and closed the door behind her. A part of her
was having second thoughts; Alahna's speech about weirdo murderers lingering in the back of her mind as she scanned the empty street. She lifted her gaze to the building in front of her, an old studio with no more than a plain black sign above the door that read HorrorErotik Productions. At least she was in the right place, though she'd expected to see more people milling about the entrance, other adult actresses there to audition for the job.
Other adult actresses… that thought made her laugh out loud. She was no actress, and certainly not one of the adult variety. She'd seen her fair share of porn, but she'd never been in a porno. She hadn't even let her ex-boyfriend Eric videotape them while they fucked no matter how much he begged, though she suspected he'd still done it, hiding the camera someplace she couldn't see it. She glanced down the street and
watched the red taillights of the cab disappear around the corner and then returned her eyes to the building. "Too late to turn back now," she muttered under her breath and started toward the door. The dim lobby was empty when she made her way inside, but she made her way to the lone desk in the far-right corner. Maybe there was a buzzer or a bell somewhere she could ring to let them know she was there. The man she'd talked to
on the phone, Dylan Goode, had told her to arrive promptly at seventhirty, but she was a little early, she realized glancing down at her watch. Twenty after seven… she hoped they wouldn't use that against her. There was no bell or buzzer on the desk, so Shayna wrung her hands nervously at her waist and surveyed the office. The windows were all dark, laminated with a protective coating and reinforced
with vertical blinds. Underneath the stillness, she heard the subtle hum of the water cooler's refrigeration system, but other than that there was no other sound. No one walking around in the building, at least not that she could hear, no voices. "Ms. St. Claire, I presume," a deep voice from behind her startled her and she leapt back, clutching her chest with a gasp. As she turned around to face him, heart
thundering in her ears, he laughed softly, but it did nothing to alleviate her pounding pulse. "I'm sorry to have startled you." He held a hand out to her. "I'm Dylan Goode. We spoke on the phone this morning." Shayna accepted his handshake, surprised by how cold his fingers were as they curled around hers and gently squeezed. "I'm early," she said, a nervous catch in the back of her throat. "It's fine," he shrugged and
loosened his grip on her fingers. "Punctuality is a wonderful thing. Pity more people don't appreciate it." As his hand dropped down at his side, he stepped back and looked her up and down, his brown eyes widening with a sense of appreciation. "Sven and I were impressed with your photos, but I have I have to say you are even more stunning in person." Her cheeks grew warm, but she tried not to look away. No, it wasn't
that she tried not to, she couldn't look away, as if something inside his eyes willed her to hold his gaze even though nervousness pleaded with her to hide from his complement. Suddenly she felt ridiculous even being there. How the hell was she going to have sex on command if she couldn't even accept a simple compliment. "Thank you," she finally said. "I'm sorry, but I have to be completely honest with you. I've
never done before."
anything
like
this
"You've never fucked a vampire?" he laughed, the corners of his eyes crinkling with amusement. "Well, that either," she chuckled. "I mean, I'm not really an adult actress. I've never had sex on camera before." "There's a first time for everything," he winked. "Now, first
things first, I have a contract for you to look over, and if you're in agreement with everything, sign. Then, we'll head on into the studio to meet Sven. He'll be your co-star." Shayna sat down across from him at the desk and waited while he organized the paperwork for her to review. She crossed and uncrossed her legs several times, trying to stay the nervous flutters tangling her up inside. "Don't
be
nervous,
honey,"
Dylan said, not even looking up from the file in his hands. "Sven won't hurt you… much." "Is he…" she paused for a moment, realizing how ridiculous the question she was about to ask was. "Is he really a… you know… vampire?" "For the last 924years," he said. "Or is it 925 now? Ugh! I swear I'm losing track in my old age." "Old age?" Shayna giggled. "You
can't be a day over thirty." "Two hundred and twelve years over thirty, to be precise." He looked up at her, his mouth jerking into a sly grin. "Wow," was all she could say. Before she could say another word, his fangs popped out from under that cunning smile and she jumped back in the chair with a soft gasp. Either it was a really good illusion, or she was finally going to
get to fuck her vampire. She wanted to know everything, to ask him a million questions about what it was like being a vampire, if Sven was his sire… but when he handed the contract across the desk and tapped the bottom line, she signed without even reading. As Dylan helped her from the chair and began guiding her toward the studio with a hand on the small of her back, she realized there could have been some clause
in there granting them permission to drain her and leave her dead in the back alley, but oddly enough, for the moment she felt absolutely safe, and as if what she was about to do was the most natural thing in the world.
***
Sven looked up from the newspaper he was reading and
surveyed the woman who entered the studio beside his business partner. She was prettier than her pictures suggested, just as he hoped, and the long curve of her neck seemed to beckon him as they approached. "Sven," Dylan began, "this is Shayna St. Claire. She will be your co-star." He swept forward and grabbed her hand, elegantly lifting it to brush across his lips. "Miss St.
Claire, it is an honor to be working with you." "The honor is mine," she cooed, allowing her hand to linger in his grip. He sensed the unnatural state of calm that held her and wondered just how much Dylan had to glamour her to get her to that point. Very few women entered into the studio without their hearts racing, the blood pumping so furiously through their veins he could barely
control himself long enough to begin filming. He glanced toward Dylan with a curious raise of his brow, but the other man shrugged and shook his head, an indication that he had very little to do with how calm she was. "Shayna has never been in a movie before," Dylan told Sven. "That's good," Sven said. "It will guarantee an even more natural response to every experience."
"We are very loose in our technique," Dylan explained to her. "Not a lot of direction because we want everything to be as real as possible." Sven watched her nod, the curve of her throat moving beneath a hidden gulp. She was definitely scared, but he could sense that her fear was different than so many of the others. She hadn't come begging him to kill her, even though she was terrified to die. She wanted the
experience in a way that was almost romantic, and that touched his still heart. "If you'll come with me over to the bed, we'll get you into wardrobe." "Wardrobe?" "That's Sven's clever way of saying he's going to take off your clothes." "Oh," and when she laughed, the
soft sound stroked his still soft heart. Sven had a feeling he was finally about to make a movie he'd want to relive again and again.
***
Sven had helped her out of her clothes, her body almost trembling every time his frigid skin brushed hers. It wasn't just that he had cold skin. Cold skin warmed after a good
rub, but Sven's frigidness was beyond a good rub and she liked the way it felt against her. He sat down on the edge of the bed and she laid back against the clean white sheets and pillow. Chills of anticipation rippled across her skin and hardened both of her nipples. When he glanced back over his shoulder at her, an appreciative smile crested on his lips. "It looks like someone's already ready to go." His hand shot out quick, so fast she
almost didn't see he cupped the underside of her firm breast in his hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. "And they're real too. I like them real." His cold touch reminded her of making love outside in a snowstorm, a feeling she'd only experienced once in her life but remembered with great fondness. Soft flakes of frozen snow danced across her skin, and as she closed her eyes, she imagined that's why
they were so cold. "I'm already filming," Dylan's voice skirted the edge of her senses, barely there. Only Sven, she opened her eyes when she felt the full weight of his body climb into the bed beside her. He stretched his legs out beside hers and drew her into his chest so that they were almost romantically reclined together in the bed. She lifted her face and met with his eyes, the most unreal shade of
winter-blue she'd ever seen, and it only intensified the fantasy playing with her consciousness. "You're very beautiful," he whispered, brushing his lips across the top of her brow. "Why would such a beautiful girl purposely throw herself into the arms of death?" "Not death." Had she spoken? She couldn't remember her mouth moving, only the soft knead of her breast in Sven's hand. "Life," she
said. "Eternity." Sven's mouth came down hard on hers as if he meant to devour those two words. She opened her lips to receive him, his cold tongue darting out to dance with hers. He tasted of winter too, she thought, like fresh fallen snowflakes melting on the tip of her tongue. His hand slid away from her breast, leaving both her nipples hard as rock, and traveled downward. Gliding across her belly,
she kept expecting the friction of his touch to warm him, but it didn't and she jerked several times in reaction. She could only imagine what he would feel like inside her, and her curious hand reached out to find his half-hard cock resting between his legs. It stirred and sprang to life at her touch, leaping into her fingers. She curled them around the frigid shaft and began to slowly stroke while he pushed her legs apart and
drew his middle finger up through her soft, wet slit. He circled around her clit until it pulsed with blood and then he squeezed it between his thumb and finger until she gasped and arched her back, crushing his mouth with her hungry kiss. She didn't even notice Dylan in the room anymore, as Sven's lips trailed across her cheek and down the soft curve of her neck. It wasn't like they were making a movie at all, and she was glad the pressure of
the camera was lost on her. She didn't care that they were memorializing what was sure to be the most intense and sought after sexual experience of her life. She just wanted it to be real. Her breath passed across her lips in quick pulses when his teasing lips and tongue lingered over her neck. He bit down gently, nibbling until a mewling cry escaped her and then lowering his kisses further. He passed them over her shoulder and
then shifted to hover above her as he lowered his mouth onto her still hard nipple. He swirled his tongue across the surface in quick, icy flicks that wrought another moan from deep in her chest, and it only grew louder when he took her nipple between his teeth and gently bit down. As he suckled and bit at her nipple, Shayna felt his risking cock brush against her thigh, and she reached for it again, stroking it in
her hand and relishing in the slow gasps of pleasure that gave pause to his tender play upon her chest. Sven moved down the length of her warm body, tracing the smooth surface of her stomach with his tongue before positioning himself between her legs. He rested his cheek on her warm thigh and gazed longingly at the wet and waiting cunt just centimeters from his face. He'd always loved the taste of pussy, even before he'd been
turned, but after he'd grown to love it even more. His heightened sense of taste made every woman different, and in their juices he could learn more about them than he'd ever dreamed. He opened his mouth and descended on her warm folds, first kissing them the way he would a lover, and then sliding his tongue through her slit until he dove into her quivering pussy hole. She arched into him, pushing closer in a
silent plea for him to fuck her with his tongue that he was all too happy to oblige. He circled up and danced across her clit, then glided down into her opening again, savoring the rich taste of her. He taunted and teased, lapping at her folds, diving his tongue in and out of her and suckling her sweet nub until her whole body began to tremble with the onset of orgasm. She enjoyed good wine, he could taste it in her and knew just from
the delicious cream gushing into his mouth as she shuddered against his face that her blood would one of the sweetest he'd ever tasted. Blood that beckoned to him from the quickening pulse thumping in the artery beside his face. He could smell it through her skin, the rich aroma mixing with the scent of her pussy and driving him wild with want. But he refrained for the moment, lifting his face to look at
her lying breathless at the top of the bed, her heavy-lidded green eyes half-open and gazing down at him with more desire than he'd ever seen in any other woman's eyes. She wanted him inside her, wanted to feel him spread those juicy folds and plunge his cock through her clenching walls. Who was he to deny her? As he rose, he spread her legs even wider and positioned himself between them. The head of his cock
brushed through her hot slit without guidance, searching for her entrance and quickly finding it. He toyed with her at first, pushing the thick head inside slowly but jerking it back and lingering a moment before sliding it back in and pulling out again. Each time his head probed inside, she gasped and shuddered, a pleading, desperate look lengthening her beautiful face. The last time he pulled back Shayna thought she was going to
cry out, but then he pushed back in deeper this time, the cold hard length of his cock sliding inside with purposeful deliberation. He rested on his hands above her, his body rigidly positioned, and then he softened against her with the first stroke. He felt like ice inside her, the cold burning away at her warmth, but she lifted her hips to receive him and wrapped her legs around his flexing ass. He
began
slow
at
first,
increasing his pace with every stroke and Shayna did all she could to keep up with him, but when he began to hammer away at her with incredible speed, she let her body relax and enjoy the ride. "You feel so good inside me," she murmured against his cheek, her fingernails crawling the skin of his back and digging in delight. She'd never felt anything like Sven inside her before, no other cock even coming close to the rock hard rod
banging away at her. He rolled onto his back while still inside her, a deft move she was sure few could have pulled off with grace as she rose to straddle and ride him, positioning her hands on his chest. Sven gripped and squeezed her ass, bouncing her up and down on his shaft, but never taking his eyes from her face. He couldn't stop watching her, the delighted excitement lighting her eyes, the soft round 'o' of her
perfect mouth as she oohed and mewled like a cat in heat. Every time he thrust up inside her, he felt the deliberate clench of her muscles around his cock, and knew if she kept it up he wouldn't last long against her. She was incredible and so alive that he was torn between devouring her completely and savoring her for an eternity. Sven pushed himself up and wrapped her legs around his waist, slowing their rhythm while still
guiding and lifting her up and down his shaft, which was dripping wet with her. He could still smell her, still taste her in his mouth, but he wanted more. Tangling his fingers gently in her hair, he drew her head back and admired the pulsing vein in her neck. It called to him, her unshed blood singing a tormented song to his soul that only a taste would quell. She was watching him, not eager for death as so many others had
been, but hungry herself to give him life. She didn't flinch when he released his fangs, didn't shy away, but remained just as he'd positioned her, the vein throbbing just under her skin like an open invitation. He descended slowly, brushing the sharp edge of his teeth along the surface of her skin and smiling when the gentle sigh fluttered from her lips and she ground her cunt down hard on his cock. Soft, bright red beads grew along the scratch and he tasted
them with his tongue Even though it was barely a taste, her essence exploded against his taste buds and Sven knew it was going to take every ounce of selfcontrol inside him not to swallow every last gushing drop of her once he actually opened her vein. Shayna continued to writhe in his lap, circling her hips before she rose and slid back down his length again. She'd never exactly been into the whole pain thing before, but
when Sven scraped his teeth across the skin of her neck it had sent shivers of delight through her entire body. She felt his lips on her neck again, his tongue cleaning away the blood, sucking softly, but then his jaw stiffened with a sense of urgency and she felt the needlesharp tips of his fangs sink through her skin with an unimaginable pop. Did she even cry out? At first she thought she hadn't felt it at all, or that maybe it was painless, but then
everything was rushing out of control around her. The room spinning above her as her heartbeat thundered so loud inside her head she thought it might explode, and Sven was still fucking her. For a moment the constant upward thrust of his cock distracted her from the fear, but then cold beads of sweat break out across the surface of her skin. Her heartbeat quickened and her body tensed. Even though she
stopped responding to his cock inside her, Sven continued to fuck her, driving himself deeper and deeper as strangled cries of ecstatic horror and pure release raged from her lips. She could feel him draining the life from her, everything inside her pouring into his mouth and disappearing down his throat in deep swallows. Her life to sustain him… her life for his eternity, and that was what she'd wanted.
And then her heart began to slow. The spinning room so bright above her even though she felt her eyes began to darken. She was going to die. She knew it was just a few beats away, but then Sven stopped and drew his face away from her neck. "Drink me," he said, drawing his fangs across his wrist and tearing it open. The blood that gushed forth from the wound was so red it hurt her eyes. "Drink," he held it to her
lips. She didn't know what it meant, didn't remember him offering his blood to the girl he'd fucked in the video, but the slowing thump of her heart seemed to scream for her to drink. Her arms felt weak as she lifted them to take his arm and draw it to her lips, but her lips latched on strong, sucking long gulps of his life inside her. For the first time she noticed how warm his skin was, how it seemed to burn
with the fever of her blood. The gift he offered in return went straight to her head, and though the room was no longer spinning, the lights above seemed so bright she thought they would explode and come crashing down around them. And while she drank him, Sven exalted in the feeling of her sharing his blood. He began to fuck her again, the sensation of his cock gliding in and out of her so intense, Shayna knew she would cum again,
this time with him inside her. When Sven pulled his wrist away from her mouth, she wanted to reach for it again and swallow him by the gallon, but he wrapped his arms around her and drove upward into her again and again. His cock was so hard she could feel it in her belly. Her sensitivity heightened in ways it had never been before, every stroke sent her close to the edge until Sven's body went stiff in her
arms, the shuddering quake of his orgasm finally pushing her to cum. They quivered together, their soft moans echoing in each other's ears as waves of intense and unforgettable pleasure swept through them. A slow, husky laugh escaped her and Sven grinned. They were still lost in whatever moment had carried them away until Dylan's voice cut through the haze around them.
"What the fuck was that?" he stalked toward the bed. "Nobody said anything about turning her… I can't fucking use that on the website." "No," Sven leaned back on the bed, his softening cock still buried in Shayna's pussy. "But as she becomes one of us, we can expand the services we offer. Look at her. She's got an amazing body and an appetite to match my own. She'll triple our clientele and our profit."
Becomes one of us? Shayna was sure she hadn't heard him correctly. "Wait a minute, one of you?" she asked. "Isn't that what you wanted? Why you sought us out?" Sven asked, his cold eyes warming as they passed across her face. "To become one of us?" "I…" she hesitated. She didn't know how to answer that question. "Isn't that why you came here?"
"I thought she just wanted to get laid," Dylan shrugged. "And now she can get laid whenever she wants to," Sven said. "Whoever she wants, whenever she wants…" Shayna swallowed, her head starting to spin again with the reality she now faced. "But I didn't die," she muttered. "I just drank your blood." "You didn't die yet," he said. "But
you will…And then you will rise again, one of us, and Dylan and I will make you a star." "A porn star, mind you," Dylan added. "A star," she said. "But I've never even been on camera before today." "It doesn't matter." Sven ducked his knuckles under her chin affectionately. "You're a natural." She lifted herself out of his lap
and climbed down from the bed. For a moment she just stood there completely naked and trying to understand how she'd gone from fulfilling her fantasy of fucking a vampire to becoming one. She couldn't imagine what Alahna would have to say once she found, if they even let her go home. "All I wanted was to fuck a vampire," she muttered, more to herself than the two men behind her.
"And now you will be one," Sven reached for her hand and turned her back to face him. "I can promise you, you won't regret it. If you think sex was good before, it will be one thousand times better when you wake up tomorrow, and I can't even begin to tell you how many men are out there dying to fuck a vampire." "Better sex, huh?" Shayna turned that over in her mind, and then it slowly dawned on her. Maybe there really were others out
there who wanted the same thing she'd always wanted: to fuck a vampire. Maybe she could make their fantasy come true. "Okay," she shrugged and turned toward Dylan. "But we're going to need to reevaluate that contract if I'm going to be your star." Dylan and Sven exchanged bemused grins. Their website would need an overhaul, but with a hot new female vamp to mix things up in front of the camera, they'd be
able to afford it.
VAMPIRE PORN QUEEN
The private detective swiveled in the chair behind his desk, eyes glued to the screen in front of him watching the eerie sequence of events unfold. The man onscreen was fucking the woman beneath him with inhuman ferocity, his hips pumping so fast it looked like he was barely moving at all, but the screaming woman shuddering on the bed told otherwise. "Vampires?"
Damon
Lewis
couldn't believe the word that had just escaped his lips. He lifted his gaze to the fretting young woman seated across from him and tried to at least look sympathetic. "You're telling me your roommate was abducted by vampire pornographers?" "I don't know," Alahna Brown shook her head, shredding the damp, wrinkled tissue in her hand. "Shayna was always a little obsessed with the idea. You
wouldn't think it just to look at her." She slid a photograph across the desk and Damon examined the mild-mannered young woman staring back from the glossy image. "She looks like a goddamn librarian," he grunted. Alahna cleared her throat and nodded. "She is… or she was before she disappeared. It's been four weeks and the police are no help. They keep saying she probably cracked under the dull pressure of
her mundane life and took off for brighter pastures, but…" "But she showed you this video the morning she disappeared?"He gestured toward the screen again, which had grown dark and quiet at the end of the video. "And she was excited that these so-called vampires were auditioning willing human females to star in their videos?" he asked. "I told her not to go through with it, that it was stupid…"
Damon couldn't help the laugh that escaped him. "Stupid is an understatement… Vampires. How ridiculous is that?" Shaking her head, Alahna rested her hand on the edge of his desk. "You don't understand. Shayna believed in that stuff. She craved it with every fiber of her being, and she wouldn't stop until she either found her vampire or wound up dead because of some sick psycho taking advantage of her twisted
desire." Damon glanced down at the picture on his desk again and shook his head. "I don't understand. What do you want from me?" "I want to find her, to know she's still alive. Please? She's my best friend. I've known her since we were in the seventh grade, and I can't live with myself knowing she might still be out there and I did nothing to try and help her."
He nodded. "All right," he said. "I'll help you find your friend, but I'm gonna be honest with you up front. You know she's probably dead, right?" Alahna's eyes shifted to the picture he was staring at. "Maybe, but maybe she's not…"
***
After they made her, Shayna came to sleep between her vampires, Sven nestled protectively at her naked back with a strong arm draped over her waist and Dylan stretched on his back in front of her, his hand nestled on the inside of her thigh. Touching, always touching… even as they slept the dead sleep, their bodies nonresponsive and their consciousness someplace far away. Shayna didn't know where she went when she slept, only that it was nothing like
actually sleeping. There were no dreams, no fitful mutterings, only darkness. Waking from that state wasn't slow, but sudden, as if while her eyes were closed her spirit fled to play on the astral playground. As soon as it returned to her body, her eyes popped open and she was alive again. Well, as alive as dead girl could be. And she was alive. More alive than she'd ever felt in her twentyfour years, and she had Sven and
Dylan to thank for that. In the last few weeks since she'd met them and become a permanent fixture in their eternity they had both shown her things, incredible things she might never have known without them. Being with them was everything she'd dreamed of in her old life; being one of them was even better than she'd dreamed. In the half-light of the dim room, she stretched out her fingers and found Dylan's cock. It sprang to
life in her hand when she fondled and he shifted against the sheets with a soft moan as she gently squeezed and stroked slowly upward. Her thumb fluttered across the swollen head, evoking a second, much longer keen of delight before he rolled onto his side to face her and opened his dark eyes. He swept in closer, pressing his cheek against hers in a playful snuggle. "There was no life before you," he muttered against her half-
open mouth before crushing his lips down on hers in a dominating kiss. Dylan liked to be in control, but his longing to lord over her was often tempered with a gentleness that would have made her heart flutter were it still actually beating. His hand drew up to rest against her face, holding her there as his tongue swept into her mouth and danced playfully with hers. She relaxed into Dylan's kiss, increasing the force of her strokes
as he became hard as granite in her hand. Lifting her leg to rest over his hip, his hand slid down her waist, along the curve of her hip and over her ass before the stretch of his fingers kneaded into the flesh of her thigh. He jerked her closer and she delighted in the urgent brush of his swollen head against her skin. "I want you inside me." She whispered her plea just beyond his ear before sliding her tongue out to tickle and suck his earlobe. She
nestled her cheek into his, his soft stubble brushing deliciously against her skin. With unexpected force, Dylan pushed her onto her back, slid in between her legs and spread them wide with his knees. He hovered above her with a snarling grin, the malice in his eyes primal and raw. It stirred something animal inside her, and she lifted her hands to rest upon his shoulders, fingernails pushing painfully into his chest. He
lowered himself closer and Shayna shuddered with glee when she felt the head of his shaft probe through the slippery folds of her cunt. Dylan wasn't as wide as Sven, but he was long and she loved how easily that fat head hammered against her cervix every time he drove himself inside her. He slid in slowly, prying through the walls of muscle that clenched hungrily around his cock in silent plea for him to begin stroking.
Happy to oblige, Dylan pulled back and then slammed in hard. Shayna reacted with a soft cry of delight and dug her nails deeper into his cold flesh. Dylan loved the pain, arching his back to push himself even deeper inside her body and throwing his head back. Shayna watched his fangs emerge in a fast click that made her shudder underneath him. There was nothing more erotic than feeding on one another while they fucked.
He dove down fast, the razor sharp sting of his teeth piercing her flesh in a soft pop that made her body stiffen. His lips closed around his teeth and she softened against him, her hips still writhing to his rhythm as he drank in long, slow pulls from her neck. Her soft moans escalated, stirring Sven beside them until he rose onto his elbow to watch his progeny, the long, golden braid of his hair falling over his shoulder and trailing down his bare chest.
Soft fingers reached out and traced the 'o' of her lips, dipping into her mouth to brush across her perfect teeth. She felt her fangs slide free and Sven deliberately punctured his fingertip on the sharp edge. He circled around her lips again, painting them dark red with his own blood before lowering to close his mouth over hers. He licked the blood from her lips and then shared the salted copper of its taste in his kiss.
Even just a drop of Sven's powerful blood made her body come alive; her senses tingled as every nerve sang and her body danced instinctively with Dylan's. She wanted them both inside her, for their cocks to fill her body completely, and since the intimate connection between them ran deeper than anything she'd ever known, they worked to oblige her. Still buried balls deep inside her, Dylan rolled skillfully onto his back and carried her with him. She
ground down hard with the guidance of his hands on her hips, only slowing when she felt Sven crawl in behind her and gently nudge her forward to lift her tight ass into the air in front of him. His strong hands caressed the skin of her backside, moving in slow, appreciative circles, and when she glanced back over her shoulder at him, their eyes met for a moment and she knew what it was to be worshipped. His cold blue eyes
shone with reverence, the corners of his lips twitching with a deviant grin as his gentle stroking turned to urgent kneading, her soft flesh squeezed like rising bread dough in his hands. Sven swirled his finger through the juice leaking from her cockfilled snatch and began to rub the slippery moisture over the thick, bulging head of his tool. Each time Shayna bounced down to meet Dylan's upward thrusts, she could
feel Sven probing her tight little asshole, but it wasn't wet enough to slide inside. He spit into the palm of his hand, smearing saliva across the head, up and down his shaft, and then he prodded her again. Once his cock was in position, he grabbed her cheeks and spread them wide while Dylan stilled his gyrating hips to allow the other man to push inside her. Sven had fucked her ass before, but every time he pushed through
her tightly squeezed muscles it felt like the first time. The sharp spasms of pain made her squirm, assisting Sven in sliding in one slow inch at a time until the pressure of both cocks buried deep inside her was almost more than she could take. As Dylan pulled down, Sven pushed in deeper and she swore she could feel him poking into her belly. He began to draw back and Dylan slammed into her pussy again, lingering there until Sven pounded into her ass and both of them filled
her completely once more. She couldn't even remember what her life had been like before Sven and Dylan, before her vampire lovers had taken her over completely; their minds, their bodies, their souls entangled in a triad of intimacy and lust that ran deeper than any emotional attachment she'd ever known. Just the mere thought of not knowing them both made her want to cry, not feeling their dueling swords
gliding in and out of her, battling the thin wall that separated her cunt and her ass. They were one being, one writhing, rutting beast, their three bodies designed to satisfy only each other. Shayna jammed backward onto Sven's thick, swollen shaft and Dylan rose inside her again. Sven's arms came around her, strong hands squeezing the fleshy mounds of her breasts, fingers rolling and pinching the hard pink nipples. She
pushed her back against his chest, stretching her neck for him to feed and when he sank his teeth into her skin, puncturing her vein and welcoming the rich blood into his mouth, Shayna knew it wouldn't take long for her to cum. Ecstasy. Every moment of their life together was pure ecstasy. She ground her hips down harder, taking them both into her again and again. The dual pounding in both of her holes quickened, as
they took turns filling her over and over, occasionally pushing themselves inside her simultaneously. The familiar tingle of orgasm beckoned inside her, pleading for the continual stimulation she needed to cum. The muscles in stomach tightened, her entire body rigid as they continued to fuck both of her holes, but it was the gentle flicker of Sven's tongue across her exposed vein that finally send her into convulsions of pure bliss. Orgasm rippled through every
tense muscle, coming on again and again while the two of them hammered away at her. She knew Sven would cum first, the tight muscles of her asshole squeezing him into submission until he grew rigid despite the constant buck of his hips. She slammed down harder on Dylan's shaft, circling her hips before every downward dive until at last she felt Sven withdraw from her ass and paint her back with cool streams of
spurting cum. But he didn't stop feeding from her or squeezing her breasts in his hands as he bounced her body up and down atop Dylan's in an effort to get their partner off. Dylan grasped at Sven's forearms, four hands kneading and squeezing at her tits as their bodies pounded and pulsed. She watched Dylan's face, his brown eyes wide and his lips curled into the most delicious curve, flecks of her blood still painting them bright red. She
lowered over him, stretching hard against the upward tilt of his cock before burying her mouth into the soft, cold skin of his neck to feed on him. Her teeth sinking into his flesh increased the fury of his movement, his pelvis bone grinding up and into hers over and over. Sven's hands slid down her waist, squeezed her hips and quickened the glide of her thrusts until Dylan arched upward in rigid exultation, a geyser of cold seed filling her up inside.
Sven's hand swept through her hair and down her back in a gentle caress. He leaned forward, his soft mouth brushing the curve of her neck as he whispered, "There was no life before you."
***
Shayna would have been perfectly happy spending the rest of eternity blissfully entangled in
those four arms alone, but she had a job to do. Sven and Dylan were counting on her, and there was also that pesky need to feed that could only be satisfied with human blood. The three of them could devour each other as much as they wanted to, but their immortal bodies could not survive on vampire blood alone. She fidgeted on the edge of the bed and drew the silk fabric of her skimpy robe across her chest. She'd only watched so far, her eyes fixated
on Sven's beautiful naked body as fucked and fed, his hypnotized victim crying out in terrified ecstasy as he drained away her life and pounded away at her beautiful, quivering pussy from behind. Even in the throes of passion, Sven's eyes always found Shayna's, beckoning her to watch and learn, assuring her that the warm body beneath him was little more than a means to an end. She was never jealous because
she knew Sven belonged to her. His blood coursed through her veins, marked her his eternal slave, but their connection ran so much deeper than master and slave, deeper than the foolish human concept of love. The two of them were one, just as they were both also one with Dylan, and Shayna had never been more satisfied with her life. Life. Again that concept made her grin. She was no longer alive,
and sometimes she forgot that because in truth she'd never felt so alive. It was all thanks to Sven and Dylan, and she wanted to please them, give them… even if that meant offering her body in front of the camera. Sven slid in behind her, his firm hands working the muscles of her shoulders for a moment before he bent down to kiss her cheek. "You are nervous?" "No,"
she
shook
her
head,
leaning back against him and delighting in the feeling of his arms circling around her to draw her closer. "If you are nervous, we can film together first." "I'll be okay," she assured him. "I know you will." She closed her eyes and breathed him in, his clean scent stimulating her newfound, insatiable lust, but
before she could act on it the distant sound of footsteps moving through the building alerted her senses. Dylan had arrived with her first co-star. As if Sven had felt every muscle in her body tense, he squeezed her shoulders, massaging hands moving down her arm. Despite the nervous flutters in her stomach, she was looking forward to the feed. The smell of fear struck her, stimulating her primal instincts
before Dylan even stalked through the door of the studio. The young man on Dylan's left was nothing like what she expected. She wasn't sure why, but she'd envisioned a lover not much unlike the men she'd sought out before she'd come to Dylan and Sven: a rail-thin goth boy with black hair and pale skin. Instead, he was what most people might consider normal. Athletically built, just over six-feet tall and artificially tan, he was the kind of man she'd expect to find working
the sales floor in a business suit, financing big screen TVs to desperate people who couldn't afford them. For some reason, that made Shayna smirk, the sudden desire to drain him until the last pulse of his heart flooded his blood into her mouth titillating her prospects of the task that lie ahead. And she would fuck him too, for Sven and Dylan, making sure her costar enjoyed the final ride of his pitiful
life. "Shayna," Dylan approached, the man beside him growing rigid, the undercurrent of his fear heightening her need in ways she'd never felt before. "This is Christopher," he said. "He will be starring with you tonight." As if she wasn't even in the room, Christopher turned to Dylan, his grey eyes wide as he said, "She's even more beautiful than the pictures on your website."
"Would you expect anything less from a vampire porn queen?" Sven gave her shoulders a final squeeze before stepping away from her to survey her prey. Shayna felt the man's pulse leap and quicken as Sven circled around him like a predator. She didn't think it was possible, but the surges of fear pumping through Christopher's blood stirred desire in the pit of her belly.
"Gentleman, I am standing right here," she reminded them, tittering softly as she stepped forward and extended her hand. "I am Shayna," she curled her fingers around his palm and gently squeezed. "I'm delighted to be working with you, Christopher." She flashed a glance at Sven, and he grinned approval. She watched his Adam's apple leap upward with a generous swallow, his mouth struggling to form words that never came out.
She reached down inside herself for the hypnotic power Sven had gifted to her with his blood, relaxed her eyes and looked deep inside Christopher before she spoke. "There's nothing to be afraid of," she told him, drawing him away from Sven and Dylan and toward the bed where she'd watch Sven devour so many beautiful women over the last few weeks. She sat Christopher down on the edge of the mattress and rested one hand on his shoulder before lifting his
chin upward with the other. "I'm going to make you a star," she promised with a teasing wink. She delighted in the gulp he tried to hide and then pushed him back onto the bed behind him, lowering herself to straddle his hips. Untying her robe, she slid the soft silk down over her shoulders and let it fall down her arms before she shrugged it off onto the floor behind her. Completely naked, she didn't feel the cold air against her
skin, but her nipples hardened on instinct as the forceful, nervous exhale of her first solitary victim heated her frigid flesh. "Just lie back," she cooed, her deft fingers already working the buttons trailing down the front of her shirt. "Lie back and relax." She leaned inward, fluttering her soft lips against his in a sensual kiss both meant to calm him and further stir his desire. She grinned as it worked, the hips between her
thighs rising slightly upward to press the already stiff dick stretching against pants to try and reach her. "You're already rock hard," she told him, her mouth whispering across his cheek, tongue slipping out to taste the warm skin of his ear. "You want so bad to get inside me," she said. "I do," his voice wavered, terror mingled with desire.
Tearing through the last three buttons on his shirt as she rose, she exposed the bare skin of his tan chest and traced her fingernails across the taut muscles. She could feel his blood pulsing beneath the skin, teasing her fingertips and begging for her to drink, but it wasn't time yet. She unbuckled his belt and slid off to his right while working his pants away from his body. Soon he was completely naked, warmth emanating from his skin, both his cock and his nipples
hard as rock as she lifted her leg back over his hips to straddle him. "I could just eat you up," Shayna giggled, her smoothing hands pausing to squeeze his nipples. Christopher jerked upward in pain, the length of his cock slapping at the fold of her ass, but she lifted away, teasing his head with the soft, cool petals of her yearning pussy. She knew as she centered her hole over him and began to push down slowly onto his hot shaft that
fucking him would ignite things inside her that Sven and Dylan could not. His heat stirred her yearning, his prick so warm inside her she could feel her cunt salivating juices that made it even easier to lift and glide up and down his pole. Heat, delicious heat filled her body in waves and she threw her head back as she wildly slammed herself down onto his shaft again and again. She felt his hands roving
up her chest, seeking out her ample breasts to cup and squeeze, fingers brushing forcefully across her jutting nipples and making her gasp. Over her shoulder she could see Sven watching from his chair, hands steepled under his chin, the loose length of his blond hair almost curtaining his face and hiding his own insatiable want. Dylan had positioned the camera at the end of the bed, and he too
stepped out to the side to watch, brown eyes barely veiling his need to be inside her again. But they only watched on in approval as their vampire porn queen ground and gyrated, writhed and fucked the warm, living cock buried deep inside her dripping snatch. "You feel so hot inside me." She increased the speed of her bounce, punching her ass down hard so Christopher's ball sack leaped up to slap her asshole. It tickled and
stimulated, and she arched her back into every downward drop to push that hot, meaty tool deeper. The muscles of her pussy clenched with ever stroke, and she watched the man beneath her lose himself completely in the feeling of her hungry cunt devouring him. But it wasn't just her cunt that wanted to devour him. The exertion of fucking him stimulated other needs, the need to feed, and as her eyes scanned to body glistening
with sweat below her, she sought the perfect vein to tap with her fangs. His jugular… no, she didn't want him to bleed out too quickly, even though she salivated at the prospect of his rich, coppery blood exploding on her tongue. Her gaze shifted to the pulsing carotid artery Sven was so fond of feeding on, but feeding at the neck would make it impossible for her to watch her victim squirm and writhe against the feeling her teeth in his skin. She examined the curve where his
elbow bent, but still imagined it would be difficult to continue fucking him while she fed at that strange angle. Shayna glided her fingers down the length of Christopher's arm and slowly lifted his wrist to her lips. She tenderly kissed the skin there, her tongue tasting the salt of sweat that slicked his skin. Without releasing her fangs, she suckled his wrist, delighted in the feeling of his outstretched fingers gripping
almost desperately for her face. Her eyes spoke silently to him, willing him to relax, to focus on the delightful feeling of fucking her and he responded to her quiet instruction, pushing himself upward and drawing back out as she lifted her hips. She waited until he found his rhythm again, losing himself inside her before she clamped her teeth down on his wrist and began to suckle sweet life from his veins.
The warmth spurted into her mouth, coating the back of her tongue as it slid down inside her. Nourishing her dead body, the euphoria immediately went to her head, which felt like it was swimming with life and lust, an unyielding desire that would overwhelm her if she didn't suck every last drop of him inside her. And that was what he'd wanted, to die inside her in more ways than one. Sven said they all came to fuck a vampire with death in their hearts
and sadness in their souls, and it was up to them to fill their last moments with unforgettable bliss. And Christopher was on the verge of heaven both figuratively and literally once she shifted her teeth to his jugular vein. Shayna could see it in his wild eyes, feel it in the quickening stroke of his cock pounding through her walls like a jackhammer. Pulling away from his wrist, she painted his arm across her chest, covering herself in his
brilliant red, beautiful life until it dripped down her skin in tiny rivers Sven and Dylan would clean away with their tongues when all was said and done. Fear edged around Christopher's pupils as he gazed up at her and watched his blood glide down her porcelain skin and drip down onto his chest. He knew it was coming, but no amount of preparation could brace him for the feral attack of her teeth on his neck as she dove in and
began to feast on the gushing warmth flooding from his vein. Strange, she thought, how focused his thrusts were as he hammered away at her, and combined with the blissful drug that was his blood now singing in her veins, Shayna felt the stir of satisfaction tingling in her belly. It warmed through her hips as her vaginal muscles convulsed and spasmed with orgasm that didn't end until the body beneath her
began to slow into dying shudders as the last spurts of his blood pumped into her mouth. "Beautiful," she heard Dylan sigh. "Oh my god, that was fucking beautiful." Sven rose, clapping his hands in appreciation as he sauntered toward the bed. He tangled dominant fingers into her hair and lifted her head away from the dead body that now lie slack and lifeless under her own. He descended into a fierce
kiss, sucking the delicious blood from her lips and tongue, his fingers tightening possessively in her hair. "You were amazing," he sighed against her cheek. "I don't think I've ever wanted you more." And Shayna wanted him too. All of him, his cock, his mouth, his teeth in her skin as he feasted on the blood she'd drank for him, for all of them. Dylan moved in beside them, his hand resting on the top of
her head to gently stroke her hair as Sven sank his fangs into her shoulder and began to feed.
***
Alahna's eyes fixated on the faded video screen of her laptop, the images still circulating through her mind. The private detective behind her coughed in attempt to stir her attention, but Alahna still couldn't
tear her eyes away. "It isn't her," she shook her head. "It can't be real." "Come on," sarcasm tainted Damon's words as he circled around and closed the screen of the laptop. "You said yourself she went searching for death." "No," she lifted her watery eyes to meet with Damon's. "Not death. Eternity."
"Well, it looks like she found it," he said. "I can't believe she went through with it," Alahna sighed. "I can't believe it was actually real. Jesus! I begged her not to… told her how dangerous it was." "If she sought this out deliberately, she didn't care about the danger." "Can you help me find her?" she asked.
Damon's sarcastic laugh echoed through the silent apartment, but Alahna was not amused. "You're serious, aren't you?" he asked, the playful malice fading from his eyes as his smile waned. "She's my best friend," Alahna said. "I can't bear the thought of her out there… undead, or whatever she is now… She must be so scared and alone." "Scared and alone?" Damon shook his head. "Obviously you
need to watch that video again. She looked to me like she was in her fucking element, pun intended." "It doesn't matter. I have to find her." The force and conviction in her voice scared him, and Damon shifted his stance uncomfortably, crossing his arms over his chest. "It's going to cost you," he said. "Much more than you already owe me. Christ, you're asking me to hunt down vampires for fuck's sake.
Do you realize how absurd that sounds? I wouldn't believe it myself if I hadn't seen it with my own two eyes." "Maybe we can save her," she said. "I'll pay whatever it takes. Just help me find her." Damon didn't have the heart to tell the grief-stricken woman in front of him that no matter how much she paid him, they would never be able to save her friend. He was never one to turn down a
paying job though, so he nodded and lowered his hand to her shoulder. "We'll find your friend. Whatever it takes."
VAMPIRE LOVE SLAVE
Detective Damon Lewis was cold. Naked and restrained, he'd been tied up for days in the basement of HorrorErotik Studios. It was damp and chilly, and somewhere in the distant corner of the room water dripped into a puddle with a soft echo that ploinked every time Damon counted to 278. Counting… it was keeping him sane, though he wasn't sure how much longer he'd be able to make that claim. His mistress fed
on him nightly, draining just enough of his blood to keep herself sated and him too weak to fight her. Not that he wanted to fight her. In the beginning maybe, before he'd first laid eyes on her. He'd come barreling into the studio intent on liberating who he assumed to be a mousey librarian—that was how the roommate described her. "She's a little on the mousey side, quiet for the most part, but she's got this obsession with vampires that
hinges on insanity," Alahna Brown had said. But Damon learned rather quickly there was nothing left of that mousey librarian unless the feet of the vampire goddess he'd been dumped in front of belonged to someone else. "I'm looking for a girl, maybe you've seen her," Damon announced, surveying the office in front of the studio. It looked like every other office he'd been in, nicer than most of them actually,
and for a moment he thought Alahna Brown had sent him on some kind of wild goose chase. The man leaning back against the desk with his arms crossed over his chest didn't look like Bela Lugosi or Christopher Lee, but it still pissed Damon off that he barely even glanced at the photograph he'd shown him before dismissing her with a shrug. "She doesn't look familiar to me," he'd said.
And later on when Damon saw her the first time, he realized that even though that bloodsucking bastard had lied right through his pointy teeth about knowing where Shayna St. Claire was, he'd told the truth about her not looking familiar. Sexy and dominant, there was little more than a vague resemblance to the mousey librarian he'd set out to find. She was confident, strong and the two vampires who'd dragged him down to meet her seemed to worship her
as though she was some kind of goddess and Damon was an offering they'd brought to please her. She'd surveyed Damon the way a cat inspects a quivering mouse lying defenseless at its feet and then said, "Chain him up so I can play with him later." The big blonde one, who Damon learned later was named Sven, dragged him across the cellar floor with one hand and then hung him in a dank corner from a pair of
shackles that dangled from the ceiling. At first he was grateful that they'd allowed him enough chain to rest on his knees, but after a couple of hours the pain pulsed in his joints, creeping up the muscles in his thighs and straining his lower back. No one came to play with him later, and though it could have been the pain burrowing into his mind, but Damon swore an entire day went by in that dark corner of hell before he finally heard footsteps on the stairs.
The light pried at his squinting eyes, so at first he didn't know who had come to see him. Her scent preceded her, lavender and orchid with a hint of burning sage, and then she spoke. "Why are you here?" Damon's eyes adjusted to the light enough that with his head bent away from its glare he could see her bare feet, toenails painted bright pink. They led to dainty, but shapely calf muscles that led to soft
thighs made for squeezing, but then the hem of her silky mauve robe obscured the rest. In a daze from lack of sleep and regret that he'd taken the case to get inside that hot mocha-skinned beauty's panties more than to actually help her, for a moment Damon forgot that she'd spoken to him. The hard crack of her open palm across his face sent tingling shocks of pain pulsing through his jaw and cheekbone. "Answer the fucking
question," she spat. "Why are you here?" "I'm here to audition." Funny how quick the mind works when pain stimulates the senses. "Liar!" She hit him again, and Damon's head lulled jerked to the left with the sheer force of her strike. "You brought this here." She thrust the photograph in his face, the picture of the two girls, best friends since the seventh grade, at least that's what Alahna had said
about half a dozen times. "You asked Dylan if he knew this girl." "That girl…" Damon started, lifting his head to look at her. Even in the dim and dirty light from the swaying bulb behind her she was breathtaking. Soft red highlights shone in the dark brown hair that streamed down her shoulders, and though shadows played across her face it was impossible to miss the brilliant shine of her bright green eyes. "She's you," he said. "The girl
in that picture is you." Crumpling the photograph in her fist, she struck him again, this time close-handed. The force of the blow rocked his head back again and twinged the muscles in his tired neck. "The girl in that picture is dead," she hit him again. "And so are you." He didn't know what she'd meant then because she'd turned around and walked away from him, leaving him dangling in chains for
another night to think about what she'd said, about why he was there. Or maybe it wasn't another night. In the dark there was nothing to do but count the water droplets and muscle spasms and that was no way to pass the time. Damon's next visitor was the man who'd introduced himself as Dylan Goode. Dylan unchained Damon's arms and with a heavy boot kicked him over onto his back. Hunkering down on the floor, he
lowered his face so close the strands of his curly brown hair brushed against Damon's cheeks. "I asked her to let me kill you," he hissed, and with a soft click exposed his fangs. They gleamed white in the dull basement light, and though for a fleeting second Damon thought hard about playing the hero those fangs were long enough to pose a threat and he was too tired and sore to try and fight some supernatural creature he hadn't believed in fifty-hours ago.
"Apparently it's your lucky day though." When Dylan stood, he jerked Damon off the floor by the front of his shirt. Shoving him stumbling in front of him, the fact that the vampire didn't seem to worry that he might run unnerved him. "Up the stairs," Dylan said. "She's asked to see you." Damon trotted up the stairs, ignoring the ache in his thighs from
having spent what felt like an eternity kneeling. At the top of the stairway, Dylan gripped his shoulder and guided him down a hallway and into a studio lit so bright the white lighting sparked hazy green splotches across his vision that didn't go away until he blinked. Dylan hovered like a gorilla behind him as Damon surveyed the room until his squinting gaze rested on a king-sized bed decked in bright white sheets.
She was reclined against the pillows chattering amicably with the blonde who'd chained him up at her command and when they entered the studio she tossed her head back to laugh at something he'd whispered in her ear. He looked up first, his eyes as blue and cold as winter as he surveyed the detective and then leaned over whisper something else into her ear. She turned her gaze on him and
in that bright light the green of her eyes was so intense Damon was instantly mesmerized by them. He took a stumbling step toward her, but Dylan's hand fell on his shoulder to hold him in place. "Take off your clothes." Her voice was like a dream, undercurrents of soft instruction tugging at the deep corners of his mind until he instinctually reached up and began to unbutton his shirt. He kicked out of his shoes almost
eagerly, even though a part of him knew he was doing her bidding without thought or protest. As he slid his jeans and boxer-briefs down around his ankles, he stepped out of them and stood before her in nothing but his skin. The air in the studio was cold as a freezer and Damon immediately felt chills ripple across the surface of his skin before shuddering deeper into his body. When he shivered, she grinned and then
turned over her shoulder to ask, "Restrain him for me." Her voice was soft despite the undertone of command that moved both of her lovers into fast action. She climbed off the bed and Dylan shoved him forward. Sven reached out and grabbed his forearm, yanking him over to the bed. Two pairs of handcuffs glinted on the bedposts and before Damon could even acknowledge them, his left wrist was secured and Sven was
stretching him across the bed to click the other cuff into place. Once both of his hands were secure, Dylan stretched his legs toward the opposite end of the bed, spreading them to cuff his ankles. "This is insane," Damon said, jerking at the cuffs holding his wrists in place. "I just came here to find the girl," he explained. "There are people out there who are worried about her, who love her…" The
sound
of
her
laughter
surprised him as it cut through the silence like a knife. "Don't talk about me like I'm not here, slave!" Leaning over him she reached her hand out and gently traced a fingertip across the muscles in his chest. His nipples were already hard from the cold, but he could feel them stiffen even more in response to her touch. His cock grew hard too, though try as he might to will it to go limp and hide. Damon closed
his eyes and drew in a deep breath through clenched teeth. "I didn't mean to upset you…" "Upset me?" She laughed again, and then her fingers wrenched down on his nipple, squeezing tighter than a vice grip before she twisted it. "As if someone as useless and invisible as you could ever upset me." He didn't want to cry out, but the agonizing scream tore through his throat against his will. The sound
only seemed to please her more. She lifted her leg and crawled up onto his chest, straddling him and sitting down. She couldn't have weighed more than 115 pounds, and yet her position on his ribcage coupled with how far they'd stretched his limbs made him feel like he was suffocating. Dylan was already behind the camera, rolling it in to position it just right and Sven had seated himself in the chair beside the bed
to watch his queen go to work. Fingers steepled, he leaned back in the chair and lifted them to rest under his chin. Shayna glanced sidelong at Sven, her eyes veiled with heavy, sultry lids and he did nothing more than nod at her as if willing her to do what she needed to do. She eased down onto Damon's abdomen, the cheeks of her tight ass brushing his groin and stimulating the anxious muscle of
his cock. It leapt up with a bounce that made her grin. "Does this turn you on?" she asked, rolling her hips backward so the soft, open crack of her ass glided down to envelope his hard shaft before jerking quickly upward again. The movement made him moan, and though try as he might to deny that it gave him pleasure, Damon's cock would definitely give him away. "Yes," he said, shocked by the
defiant tone in his own voice. His insolence seemed to please her. "You aren't scared enough," she said, "but I can fix that." She climbed off of him with the speed of a cat and positioned herself on the bed beside him. Damon didn't have time to revel in the relief of being able to breathe more easily because she'd lifted her ass in front of him as she eased down on her hands to inspect his belligerent cock. It rose up to meet
her cold touch, her icy fingers curling around the base and squeezing as she stroked upward. Despite the strain it caused his already aching neck, Damon lifted his head to watch her, more turned on than he'd ever been. Her full lips parted and she swept her tongue out to moisten them before sliding them down onto his bulging purple head. Her mouth was like an ice cube, slippery wet and so cold it forced a mixed
reaction that clenched the muscles in his thighs stomach when he gasped. His ankles tugged at the restraints as he tried to yank them free and her lips tightened with a smile as she pushed his dick deeper into the chasm of her torturously frigid mouth. Damon didn't have to look to his right to know Sven was watching, his eyebrows lifted in approval, smile twitching and proud as she deep-throated her prisoner with
pleasure. The further she pushed him into her mouth, the deeper the cold seemed to penetrate through his skin. Aching from the chill, his cock was so hard and cold he thought for sure it would shatter like a dry-ice statue with even the smallest amount of force. Drawing her mouth upward, his fat, throbbing head popped out of her mouth with a damp sucking sound that only seemed to widen her grin. Torn between relief and
longing, he squeezed his eyes tight until he heard the echoing click of her fangs emerge and before he had time to react she sunk them down into the thick meat of his head. There was no holding back. The gargled scream burned raw in his throat and she began to suck the blood from his member, creating a sensation between exotic torture and terrifying delight. He'd never known such pain before, and yet his body responded against his will,
hips thrusting upward against the needle-sharp puncture of her teeth. He screamed again, and somewhere in the spinning room he swore he heard laughter—deep, throaty and appreciative. Whimpering pleas passed through his trembling lips. "Stop, please! Stop!" but his begging went unanswered. Her stiff hand circled around the shaft of his cock, jerking upward as she sucked the pumping blood into
her mouth. The pain was so exquisite Damon thought for sure he was going to die, and even though the release of her fangs should have brought relief, the pulsing sting of their earlier presence throbbed down into his balls. She was still jacking him off, the fast, concentrated strokes sending spurts of blood from the two holes her teeth had left behind. He should have gone limp, but he didn't. The tormented longing to
cum spurred on by her constant, steady rhythm only seemed to increase as her bloody hand lubricated his shaft and continued to stroke. Could a man bleed out through the dorsal vein in his dick? Funny how high school health class brought the name of that vein rushing to the forefront of his mind as he struggled to focus on something other than the agony of her furiously pumping hand. Her tongue swept out to lap at
his blood, once more sending mixed signals to his brain. He never wanted her to stop, and yet he was terrified that if he actually came the rush of blood through his cock would kill him. Maybe that was what she wanted. Was such a thing even possible? He supposed he was about to find out, and that appreciative chuckle somewhere in the room still echoed in his hot ears as the bright white room rushed and swirled around him like a carnival freak show.
He was going to cum; he was going to die. He knew it and the fear pumped his heart faster like a banging drum inside his ears. Maybe death by blow job wouldn't be so bad if he could actually enjoy it, but the terror made it almost impossible to focus on the hot waves of pleasure ebbing through him, threatening to explode in white hot and red gushes from the head of his tortured cock. She latched onto him again,
sharp teeth scraping against his sensitive skin as the warm geyser of jiz shot into her mouth and then Damon's world went black. When he returned to consciousness he was dangling once more in the dark cellar, the constant drip-drop of water immediately confirming his surroundings. His limp dick throbbed with a pain that actually made the straining muscles in his neck and shoulders feel like a picnic
at the beach. He started to feel thankful to still be alive, but he couldn't imagine how much longer she would let him live. As it turned out her cock sucking torture became a nightly ritual. Sven studied her technique from his chair beside the bed while Dylan filmed the event. Damon tried to understand how despite knowing exactly what awaited him inside her icy mouth, Shayna managed to make his cock respond and grow
hard every time. And every time she brought him to that demented state of bliss, balls throbbing in her cold, kneading hand, the head of his cock so fat and swollen he was sure it would explode, Damon lost consciousness. He always woke back in the cellar, arms restrained and knees aching as his weight pressed down into the cold concrete, but no matter how much the restraints pained him, it was nothing compared to the torture of her sucking mouth.
He'd lost count of how many days had passed, how many nights he'd bled into her mouth before passing out as he shot his load. Delirious from the torture, he wondered if anyone even knew he was gone. Alahna maybe, but why would she care? He'd only taken on the case to get into her panties anyway, and now he was paying the price for making a promise he'd only half-heartedly planned to make good on in the first place. She wouldn't come looking for him. She
probably thought he'd taken her money and skipped town. Vampires… how the fuck had he lived his entire life, spent the last ten years of his career prowling the dirty side streets as a private detective and never known such dark abominations truly existed? It was this thought that occupied his addled mind when the dim bulb flashed yellow into the darkness and the footsteps that always preceded his torture pounded down
the stairs. Sven appeared before him, tall, majestic as some Viking god with his long blond hair flowing loose and long around his broad shoulders. Damon had the sudden urge to pray to him, to beg him for his freedom, but the winter cold of his bright eyes spoke only of more unrelenting torture and eventual death. Perhaps he could have appealed to Dylan; there seemed to be something almost human that still remained in the other man, but not Sven. Sven was her maker, her
soul mate and he would do anything to make sure she was eternally sated. "This game has gone on long enough," Sven said, unlocking the wrist restraints and allowing Damon to fall into a puddle heap on the damp, dirty floor. "Tonight it ends." Damon didn't know what that meant, but the notion of his torment finally coming to a close sent rippling waves of relief
through his body. Even if an ending meant his death, he would gladly meet it just to finally be done with the sweet torture of her hungry, devouring mouth. Sven marched him up the stairs and into the bright studio. The light should have been a comfort after so long in the dark basement, but he'd come to equate that hideous white room with excruciating, delicious misery and pain. He barely fought as Sven shuffled him to the bed,
pushing him down with a bored shove before restraining his arms and legs in the usual position. Sven began to undress, and for a brief moment Damon's ass clenched tight with fear. Was the big Viking brute going to violate him? Was that what he'd meant when he said it was going to end? Much to Damon's relief Dylan entered the studio moments later with Shayna at his side, her pale face serious as death as she
approached the bed and slid out of the skimpy robe that covered her naked body. Sven stripped out of his clothes as well, and standing on the opposite side of the bed, he gestured toward her slave. "Fuck him, my pet." As she'd done so many times before, Shayna climbed atop Damon's body, straddling his waist before wriggling down to hover over his hips. The cold brush of her damp cunt awoke his cock, even
though a part of him wished it would just stay limp. Maybe if he stopped responding to her she would just kill him and end the game, but he had no control over his member. Her pussy lips parted to glide down along his tortured shaft, the cold, wet stimulation hardening him even more. His swollen head throbbed and ached, all the places where she'd sunk her teeth in pulsing in sharp stabs of pain that made his dick feel like it was wrapped in a bed of hot
needles. And then a hand reached in behind her ass to grip Damon's stiff member, Sven's hand. He'd never let another man touch his cock before, and though the idea made him feel strange and almost disgusted, the strong, soft fingers made him even harder than he already was. Shayna lifted her ass into position and Sven pushed Damon's cock into the icy cold cavern of her slick snatch.
Relief, sweet relief, he closed his eyes as she sunk down onto him and filled herself with a long stretch and arch of her back. Under ordinary circumstances the frigid muscles would probably have sent him immediately into shock, but his tortured cock hurt so bad that the cold was wonderful and relieving. She clenched around him, squeezing him inside her as she bounced her hips upward and then pounded back down again.
She moaned softly, mewling with every stroke of her hips down his length and when Sven slid in behind her, she leaned forward to cool Damon's feverish body with hers. Sven positioned himself between Damon's legs wide-spread legs and smoothed his hand down the curve of her back. Dylan was filming, and Damon wondered how much of his torment had already hit their dark and twisted vampire fetish porn website. Had anyone seen it? Had Alahna been watching?
With his tool still inside her, Shayna lifted her ass to Sven, wiggling her hips deliciously to entice him. He reached for a bottle of massage oil on the table beside the bed and poured a generous handful into his palm. He rolled the oil around the fat purple head before slicking it in a slow grip down the length of his massive cock. Damon's ass clenched again with fear, and then relaxed when Sven positioned himself behind Shayna and wrenched the cheeks of
her ass wide open. He teased and probed her asshole with the head and she responded with mewling giggles, still writhing up and down Damon's length to teasingly bounce against her maker's cock. Sven grew tired of the tease and took control by gripping her hair in his free hand to hold her still. With his other hand still stroking his own length, Sven pushed into her ass and as she backed down to receive him Damon could feel the
vampire's cock through the thin membrane separating her cavities. The hard head slid against him, and once more Shayna began to bounce. Every downward punch filled her with both cocks, and though try as he might to deny it, sharing her tight quarters was one of the most incredible feelings he'd ever known. She slid her back against Sven's chest, the vampire's arms circling around to squeeze and knead her tits in his hands. From his vantage
point beneath them, Damon focused on the delightful relief of her slippery pussy coupled with the continual nudge of another cock violating and cramping his space. Sven guided her movement, his hands finally sliding down to hold her hips in his grasp so he could direct her every circling bounce. He made her move faster, and the quick downward pound of her hips stroked Damon closer and closer to orgasm.
He knew Sven was watching him, gauging from every muscle twitch and gasp for breath just how close Damon was to cumming. Whenever Damon felt as if he was going to burst, Sven slowed her down to draw out the agony of unachieved release building and tightening inside Damon's balls. Sven brushed the hair over her opposite shoulder to open her long neck. He lowered tender kisses down the length until he arrived at
her shoulder and lifted his head to allow his fangs to emerge. He sunk them down into her flesh and she immediately tensed the muscles of her cunt with a swift jerk that nearly made Damon shoot his hot load inside her. She groaned in delight, drawing out each writhing thrust while her maker feasted on her blood. When Sven had his fill of her, he lifted his face away, the motion flecking Damon's chest and face with bright
red drops of blood. Sven smeared a bloody kiss along her cheek, whispering in her ear, "Devour him, my queen." Her eyes anticipation.
widened
with
"Fill yourself with his life." Damon braced himself, but there was no way to prepare for the assault she unleashed on him. Even though the sharp puncture of her teeth in his throat was almost a
relief when he compared it to the feeling of her fangs in his cock, the fast flood of his blood gushing into her mouth made him swoon dangerously close to lost consciousness. He tried to focus on the pleasure of her tight cunt still riding his shaft, but the death grip suck of her lips draining the life from his body was impossible to ignore. His eyes flashed pulses of darkness that obscured the brilliant white of the room and the quickened pace of his thundering
heart overwhelmed him with fear. He knew he was going to die, knew that death was just moments away and yet despite the restraints he felt his hips instinctively buck upward to fill her. He was so close to cumming that he refused to die until the last spurt of hot jiz warmed the frigid cave between her thighs. She moaned against his throat, the vibration of her excitement driving him deeper into her pussy with furious and
desperate pumps. He felt it building up inside him even as the world began to melt away, darkness clouding his vision and when he finally exploded in rigid jerks of ecstasy, she unclenched her teeth from his neck and lifted her face to watch the last flickers of life flash in his terrified eyes. Bright red rivulets slipped down her chin, dripped onto his chest as Sven drew her back against his chest again to finish himself off in
her ass. Damon gasped, struggling against his final breaths and watching her face contort with wondrous bliss and joy. She didn't need saving. She'd never needed saving. "Alahna," Damon whispered. And then Sven's body went rigid and he roared his release and the world went dark for Damon Lewis one last time…
*** Alahna Brown blinked several times to nudge the tears that coated her eyelashes onto her cheeks. They dropped in slow, glistening trails down her soft brown cheeks. She'd been watching that website for weeks, waiting to hear some word from Damon, but nothing came. Just when she gave up hope that the detective she'd hired was ever coming back, that she would ever see her best friend again, a new
video surfaced on the HorrorErotik website. Shayna… Alahna would never have believed it if she hadn't seen it with her own eyes. Shayna was lost, finally consumed by the obsession that had driven her out into the darkness so many nights. Damon had become her victim, drawing his last breath beneath the gyrating bliss of her hips. Shaking her head, Alahna reached up to wipe at her damp
cheeks. She couldn't believe what she'd seen, that the monster in that video was the same girl she'd been best friends with for so many years. She closed the window to HorrorErotik and opened her web browser to type in the words: How to Slay a Vampire. She clicked search and sat back as the results filled the screen. "I have to get her back," Alahna said softly to herself. "Whatever it takes, I have to save her."
SUBMIT TO THE VAMPIRE
Alahna stretched her legs beneath the silky sheets, the cool fabric enveloping her, wrapping in a cocoon of comfort she never wanted to rise from. She drew the blankets up under her chin and rolled onto her side, blinking her blurry eyes at the glaring red numbers on the alarm clock on her bedside table. She felt like she'd barely slept at all, the haunting dreams that had been tangled in her subconscious in the last week making it impossible to
relax long enough to reach beyond that state of mind in which she felt like she was falling. Always falling, jerking upright in the bed at even a hint of noise in the darkness and reaching under her pillow for the wooden stake she'd tucked there just in case… Just in case the vampires came to get her. It was absurd, and four weeks earlier she would have checked herself right into the mental hospital and begged them to
lock her in a padded cell. Hell, even now that didn't sound like such a bad idea. Maybe she'd be safe there; maybe the nuthouse would be the last place they'd think to even look for her. Vampires had taken her roommate. Well, she supposed taken wasn't exactly the right term. Shayna had always been a little on the obsessive side when it came to searching for proof that the living dead were really out there. Alahna
could still clearly recall the gleam in Shayna's eyes the first time she'd stumbled onto that bizarre, pornographic website. She'd been speechless, her lips a quivering circle of hope and desire as she watched the monster on her laptop screen drive his thick cock in and out of the bleeding woman writhing on the bed beneath him. He'd jerked her head back by the hair, showing off for the camera before burying the length of his ivory fangs in her throat and feasting on her
life force. Alahna didn't believe it for a minute, but Shayna was lost in the idea that what she saw before her was actually real. And HorrorErotik was looking for adult, human females to audition. When Alahna left for work that morning, Shayna sat mesmerized in front of her screen, and by the time Alahna came home that night her best friend was gone. Three days passed before the police took her
missing person's report seriously, but even then they told her there was no hope of finding her friend. Girls like Shayna got tired of life in the city real fast. Prone to running back home where it's safe and predictable, said the fourth cop Alahna talked to. Then the first video surfaced on the HorrorErotik website, and there was no mistaking the vampire porn queen who graced the screen. Horrified, Alahna watched the once
mousey, innocent young woman she'd been best friends with since the seventh grade savagely fuck and feast on her first victim. If she hadn't seen it with her own eyes, she would have never believed it was Shayna, but it was her. In all her glory, Shayna had finally found the vampire she'd spent the lonely nights of her adult life searching for and he'd turned her into some bloodsucking whore. Alahna had no choice. She hired
a private detective to help her uncover the details about HorrorErotik. Damon Lewis had taken complete advantage of her, both sexually and financially, but she was desperate to find her friend and would have done anything. Then Damon disappeared too. At first Alahna thought he'd taken her money and skipped town. It seemed like the kind of thing he might do, but when he surfaced in the victim's slot on the HorrorErotik website, she knew she had to take matters
into her own hands. If she wanted to save Shayna, she was going to have to kill the vampires who'd turned her, but even that might not be enough. She'd read enough about slaying vampires in the last two weeks to know there was little hope left for Shayna. Alahna might have to kill her too, and that thought combined with the very real danger that she herself could become their next victim had kept her up nights.
Tossing back the covers, she swung her long legs over the edge of the bed and winced when her bare feet touched the cold, hardwood floor. The sun would be rising in a few minutes and she had work to do.
****
The windowless room Shayna now slept in might have seemed
dismal as a crypt to anyone else, but in the nights since Sven and Dylan had made her she'd made more blissful memories in that room than any she could recall from her life before them. Lying sandwiched between her two lovers, Shayna was content, but tonight she was restless. Sven had been called away on business, and while Dylan was certainly more than enough to keep her occupied and entertained, being
apart from her true maker left her feeling empty and uneasy. For the first time in weeks an inkling of separation anxiety coupled with worry tingled at the base of her neck, and no matter how she tried to blow it off, it wouldn't go away. She missed Sven, the comforting blanket of his presence nearby, the deep baritone of his commanding voice and the firm stroke of his hand down her back as she curled up to rest upon his chest.
She rolled onto her side and draped her arm across Dylan's waist for the third time, an unnecessary sigh escaping her lips. "How can you sleep at a time like this?" When she nudged him, he grinned, his eyes opening slowly. "It's easy. I close my eyes and drift away, just as you should do. The sun has already risen and the longer you remain awake, the more exhausted you will be."
"I know," she lamented. "I feel it draining my energy and I'm so tired, but I can't sleep without him." Dylan frowned and reached his hand up to rest on her cheek. "You can," he promised. "Perhaps not comfortably, but you can sleep. We can take comfort in each other, if need be." "Tire me out, Dylan," she pleaded, a teasing grin forming on her soft lips.
Dylan did not have to be told twice. Having their little vampire queen all to himself was a rarity, though he certainly didn't mind sharing her with Sven. He and Sven had shared everything for over twohundred years; women, men, blood and business. He rolled onto his side to face her, hand trailing down over her arm, dipping into the delicate curve of her waist and then up over her hip before he hooked her thigh and
tugged her body against him. His cock stirred at the prospect of sliding inside her cool, moist cunt and whiling away the hours inside the paradise that was Shayna. He cupped his hand against the meat of her beautiful ass and squeezed her tighter, allowing her to feel the rise of his need through the thin sheet that separated them. "Mm," she moaned softly, and then took control, rolling him onto his back and tearing away the sheet.
She lifted her leg up over his hips and bore down gently, swiveling her hips so the moist lips of her snatch further enticed his growing desire. Dylan felt his balls tighten beneath his shaft, an almost aching sensation spurring his want to heights he'd only come to since they'd made her. There was something thrilling about her lust for eternity that made fucking Shayna remind Dylan what it felt like to be alive. Not that
he missed his old life, but the sparks of passion that coursed through his veins when he was buried inside her made him remember the hot sun on his face, a cool stream bathing the dust from his skin under a full moon, a howling wolf in the distance in the dead of night… Hand tickling and teasing through the trail of hair leading into the nest between his thighs, she sat on his thighs and gripped him in
her hand. She gently squeezed before jerking her fingers up the length in long, perfect strokes. He closed his eyes and tilted his head back into the pillows, delighting in every glide of her hand up his length. She scooted down and situated herself between his legs, lowering her cheek to rest atop his thigh. She deliberately exhaled, her cool breath shuddering across the surface of his skin in a way that
only served to excite him more. Hand still stroking, she followed the path with her tongue all the way to the mushroom tip of his cock, and then she eased him into her mouth. Wet lips suckling, her skilled tongue swirled and danced the length of his shaft as she glided him in and out. A simple blow job was a rare treat, as she'd become accustomed to the thrill of biting, but for the time being she seemed content
enough to torment him with the tender suction of her soft, full lips alone. She pushed him in deeper, allowing him to rise up and push the head of his dick against the back of her throat, an act that would have made an ordinary, living woman gag. But not Shayna. Shayna took it all and she did it with absolute joy, as if sucking cock were a lost art she longed desperately to revive. Trickles of saliva dribbled from
her stuffed mouth, down her chin and the length of Dylan's cock. She rolled her palm through it, lubricating every deliberate jerk until her hard-stroking hand and firm mouth felt almost as wet and tight as a gripping cunt around him. He bucked his hips up again and again, fucking her face while she kneaded his balls like a handful of bread dough between her fingers. It felt divine, but it wasn't enough. He wanted inside her.
Dominating Shayna wasn't an easy task. Only Sven had been able to hold her down and take her whenever he wanted, but Dylan could feel how weak she was without Sven nearby. He sat up, tangled his fingers into her long brown hair and jerked her off his cock. He slipped from her stiff mouth a soft pop, her lips curling into a slow, playful grin that didn't fade even after Dylan unclenched her hair.
She shook her hair out around her shoulders and rose up on her knees, the challenge for him to try his luck at dominating her gleaming in her bright, green eyes. She lifted one knee forward, hovering over him until he felt the firm brush of her nipples on his chest and the soft exhale of her breath on his cheek. "Do you think you can take me?" she asked him. Dylan grinned and clenched her small hips in his powerful hands.
She was still young and unaware of the power she had inside her, but she knew how to manipulate him to her will. Her smoky gaze glistened with want, her pouty lips quivering just centimeters from his before she closed in on him in a forceful kiss that would have taken his breath away had he been breathing. He gripped her tighter, lifting her ass up and positioning the damp hole of her slit over his rock hard erection. She wiggled and
writhed in his hands, almost as if she were playing at escape, but when she felt the head of his cock part the waiting folds of her cunt she relaxed and willingly slid downward as he rose up to engulf himself inside her. Clenched teeth forced a breath of exultation from his lips, soft spittle flying and Shayna crushed her mouth into his again. "I already have you," Dylan murmured into her kiss as he drove
upward and hammered through her tight walls. His next maneuver was so quick, even she gasped in surprise to find herself on her back beneath him, her legs wrapped tight around his waist as he hoisted her upward and drove in with slow, deliberately cruel strokes. Shayna eased into a bouncing groove, swiveling her hips and cooing softly every time Dylan sheathed himself ball's deep in her cunt, slamming his cool sack
against the spread of her ass cheeks. He reached for her right leg, lifting it up the length of his chest and moving his forehead along the smooth surface of her foot. He kissed her ankle, moist lips fluttering across the dip before he opened his mouth and released his fangs. He sunk them slowly into her flesh, delighting in the slow flood of her blood into his mouth. He could taste her last victim's whimpering
terror on his tongue, a delicious flavor that poured gasoline on the fire of his need for her. A crimson trickle dripped down her slim calf, tickling as it made its way toward her thigh. She smiled and closed her eyes, arching her back and burying her head into the soft pillow beneath her. Dylan's long cock glided in and out of her, the throbbing head bouncing off her cervix. That sensation combined with the anxious pull of his lips on
her vein was almost enough to drive her over the edge and into rippling pools of blissful release, but she wasn't quite there yet. Shayna felt like something was missing, or maybe something wasn't quite right. She chalked it up to Sven's absence, the lack of his hovering presence as he watched his children satisfy each other. She'd grown accustomed to his intense stare, his silent direction and stoic grin while he took in every
ounce of their bliss. Sven didn't have to participate to feed on their emotions, and sometimes that turned Shayna on more than having him inside her. His power, his strength, the hum of centuries emanating from him… God, she'd never felt so estranged and empty in her life, and not even the skill of Dylan's purposeful thrust was enough to alleviate her. So much need and it ached inside her like her heart was
breaking. She couldn't understand how Dylan could function without Sven, or how Sven could leave her knowing that his absence would make her feel so empty. She tried to distract herself, reaching down for Dylan's wrist and bringing it to her lips. She sucked and kissed the skin above his vein and then sunk her fangs down in until the cold copper inside him spurted into her waiting mouth. His blood took the edge off,
comforting her long enough for the deep hammer of his cock inside to finally draw her into the trembling promise of building release. She was going to cum, she could feel it welling up, the muscles inside tightening in response. Dylan increased the force and speed of his thrusts, pumping in and out of her so fast that to the human eye he would have been little more than a blur, but to Shayna it was as if the world stopped around them and he were moving in slow motion.
Her focus wrapped with his as their bodies entwined, and even though her senses still felt off, she chalked it up to Sven's absence and refused to let it distract her from the building promise of an explosive orgasm powerful enough to distract her from the ache of her maker's absence. But it also distracted them both from the incoming intruder. Normally Dylan's sharp senses would have smelled her perfume
the minute she entered the building, but he was oblivious to danger. He didn't even hear the lock to their room click until the door burst open and the tall, mochaskinned beauty with long black hair pushed through the entrance and leveled her crossbow at him. There wasn't time to react. She released the stake so quickly, Dylan had time for one last thought: at least he'd spent his last moments on earth between an incredible pair of legs.
Shayna's tightly squeezed eyes shot open and her narrow focus on ascending the peak to orgasm shattered as the stiff cock inside her disintegrated and a shower of dust rained down upon her naked skin. Confusion and fear trembled through her and the release she'd been just breaths from achieving had disappeared along with her lover. To make matters worse, there was a tight panic seizing her chest and the sharp female voice calling out to her through the cloud of dust
only seemed to make that panic more intense. "Shayna, you're going to be all right," the voice said. And then everything clicked into place. The reality of what had just happened came alive in her mind and the force of Sven's fury from over two thousand miles away flooded through her blood. Dylan was gone. Just like that, their partner was dead and the loss that gripped their maker blazed through
Shayna like an out of control brush fire. She opened her mouth and shrieked like a banshee, the shrill echo of her destructive cry making the woman across the room drop her crossbow and cover her ears. With the weapon no longer aimed in her direction, Shayna moved lightning fast across the room and clamped her hand on the other woman's throat, slamming her into the wall outside the room so hard
splinters of wood cracked behind her and the breath gusted from her lungs in a desperate choke. "Shay…na!" "Stop!"
Alahna
croaked.
"You killed him," the vampire hissed, her head turning, eyes afire with rage. The weakness that generally overpowered her body at sunrise was lost, and the only thing Shayna felt was an almost startling lust for vengeance.
"For you…" Alahna managed. "Because of what they did to you," she huffed out in several strangled breaths. "It's nothing compared to what I'm going to do to you!" Shayna promised, lifting Alahna's body up along the wall. Splinters of broken wood tore through her clothing, pricked and scraped her skin. Soft beads of blood bubbled to the surface, stimulating Shayna's already heightened senses.
But there wasn't time to feed, even though she wanted nothing more in the world than to tear the head off the woman in her grasp and feast on the fountain of blood spurting from her neck. She shook away the need, knowing Sven would never forgive her if she took the life of the one who'd slaughtered his progeny—her brother in blood. Shayna let go of Alahna's throat and stepped back as the other woman crumpled to the floor at her
feet. She kicked her onto her back and swept down to grip her hair. She spun her around and started to drag her down the hall to the door leading into the basement. Just days earlier she'd kept a prisoner all her own, a delicious little slave who swore he'd come to save her. Still naked, she thumped the struggling body behind her down the rickety, wooden stairs one by one, taking special delight in the sound of her protesting cries of pain
and pleas to be let go. The last thing she said before her head hit the wall in blow that knocked her unconscious was, "I came here to save you." Save her? Shayna shackled her antagonist in the same chains she'd used to restrain her last plaything. The woman's body dangled limp and defeated, but she was still breathing. A fresh trickle of blood slid down her forehead where
Shayna had slammed her into the wall to knock her out. She leaned forward and traced her tongue along the droplet, almost comforted by the salted-copper taste of it in her mouth. Almost. She felt emptier inside than she'd ever felt before, the reality of losing Dylan finally sinking into her mind. Grief shuddered through her in powerful waves that wracked her body, shaking her shoulders as
wailing sobs clawed at the back of her throat. Less than ten minutes had passed, and in that time she'd lost a part of herself she could never get back. Why? Why had the woman dangling in chains before her come into their home and destroyed a piece of Shayna's happiness? "For you," the woman had said. "Because of what they did to you…" Through the red-tinged haze of her tears, Shayna leaned forward to
inspect the woman. A part of her flashed recognition, but it was an inkling so lost she could barely grab onto it. Had they once known each other? Perhaps in her old life, which faded day by day into fragments of dust like the dust of Dylan's body still layered on her flesh. She stepped back and swept her hand up her stomach, gathering particles of her shattered lover in the palm of her trembling hand. As
she inspected them through blurred vision, she felt another pulse of Sven's rage ripple through her. No, the feeling he sent her was deeper than rage, so vile and black, and yet tainted with fear. He only knew that Dylan was gone, lost to them and he was terrified that his only surviving child was in danger. Shayna tried to think calming thoughts to assure Sven that she wasn't in danger, but it was impossible to keep any of her
thoughts straight. She needed to wash the dust of her lover from her skin, to find some way to settle her mind, so without looking back at her prisoner she marched upstairs and bypassed the bedroom where the horrific act had taken place without even looking in. In the bathroom, she turned on the shower and let the steam fill the room before she slid in through the doors and ducked under the faucet. Normally she didn't notice how cold
her body felt unless she was fucking a human, but under the scalding pellets of water that morning she shivered. Later she wondered if much of her quivering had come from the endless stream of tears she cried as the reality of the situation sunk into her mind. Dylan was gone. One minute he'd been inside her, pushing her over the threshold to bliss and just like that he was lost… forever. Why? Who would do such a thing?
It seemed beyond cruel, and as she pondered the killer in the basement, the shower ran from hot to warm to cold and back to hot again while she tried to find a reason. The woman said she'd done it for her, but Shayna would never want Dylan dead. Not after everything he'd done for her, given her. When the water had run through a second cycle, Shayna finally stepped out of the shower and
reached for Dylan's bathrobe. She wrapped it tight around her body, breathing in his scent until the tears started to fall again. She shuffled down the hallway again, passed their safe room and made her way into the studio where she curled up on the bed where they'd filmed so many memorable movies together since they'd met, including the night Sven had turned her. She closed her eyes and after what felt like an eternity of her
restless, angry, grieving mind churning over the vivid memory of his death, Shayna finally couldn't fight the draining energy of the sun outside the building, willing her to go to sleep.
****
Alahna's head throbbed and the muscles in her back ached like a tooth in desperate need of a root
canal. Her unwillingly stretched arms burned with pins and needles, and she could no longer feel her fingers even though she knew she was wiggling them. She jerked tried to push up off the floor, but her legs were asleep too and the struggle to move them sent shocking flames of agony through her thighs and calves. "Jesus!" she cried out, her own voice echoing back at her from the dank walls of her dark prison.
When the last reverberation faded, the sound of dripping water took its place. "Help!" she screamed. "Somebody! Help me!" She flailed and struggled against her body, which felt like it was betraying her, but no matter how she writhed and jerked nothing mattered. She cried out again, begging for someone, anyone to help her, but as the echo of her plea died out, her suspicion that no one could even hear her became a
certainty. The HorrorErotik building was in a seedy, nearly deserted part of the city, and even if anyone could hear her, she was sure they wouldn't bother to seek her out, much less help her. She was fucked. "Fuck!" she whimpered, rattling the shackles that held her arms until the chains clanged together like an attic ghost begging for attention. "Fu-uu—uck!"
She'd known coming in that getting killed was a very real possibility, but she hadn't expected them to take her prisoner. Not Shayna, anyway, who hadn't even seemed to recognize her as she held her by the throat up against the wall, squeezing the life from her. And to make matters more dire, the big vampire from all the videos should have been her first target, but he was nowhere to be found. That meant he was lurking
somewhere, and now that she was all tied up there would be no fighting him. Not that she would have been much of a fight against him anyway, unless she'd caught him off guard, but that wasn't going to happen now. "Fuck!" she screamed that word again and whipped her arms against her restraints. What were they going to do to her? Torture her? Eat her? Kill her?
"God, please," she halfwhispered, half-cried those words. "Please protect me, Lord." But Alahna had a feeling God wasn't listening. She closed her eyes and ground her teeth to fight off the throbbing ache in her skull, the pins and needle buzz now coursing through her muscle in her body and she prayed until the words finally disappeared into mumbled whispers and the exhaustion of fear
and trauma lulled nightmare-filled sleep.
her
into
****
Shayna felt him before she even opened her eyes, his powerful presence in the building, rushing from room to room to find her. She was just sitting up in the studio bed when Sven pounded through the doors and flew at her with arms out
and the red stain of unshed tears lingering at the corners of his eyes. "Dylan," she murmured as his hand tightened on the back of her neck to push her into his strong shoulder. "I know," was all he said. Shayna finally lifted her face from his shirt and met with the winter-cold pools of his blue eyes. "I don't know what happened. One minute he was inside me and the
next he was gone. An intruder…" she explained. "A prisoner." His thin, pale eyebrow lifted at the prospect. "A prisoner?" he asked. "The woman who killed him is in shackles in the basement. I wanted to kill her, but…" "Who is this woman?" Shayna shook her head. "She knows me, but I don't know her.
She said she came here to punish him for what you did to me." "What we did to you?" Sven's voice softened. "We did nothing to you that you did not wish," he said. "I know," and she did know. Though the fragments of her old life slipped away day by day, she still recalled their first meeting, the first ice-cold plunge of Sven's thick cock inside her, the puncturing heaven of his fangs in her throat as she offered her life to him.
Sven rose from the bed and reached for her hand. "Take me to your prisoner. I will make her rue the day she was born." Shayna eagerly grasped his fingers and drew him out of the studio and down the hall to the stairs that led into the basement. As soon as they opened the door they heard her hoarse screams pleading for someone to help her. The screams grew louder and more desperate as their footsteps
hammered the wooden stairs, but when their shadows fell across the dim bulb illuminating the cellar, she stopped screaming and broke into frightened sobs. He walked toward her, towering over as he approached and crossing his arms to inspect the woman writhing in chains before him. "This is our little killer?" He turned to Shayna for confirmation and she answered with a silent nod. Sven returned his frigid gaze to the
prisoner and said, "Killer, what is your name?" "Killer?" she almost choked on the words as disbelief widened her bloodshot eyes. "You call me killer, after you took my best friend and turned her into some murderous fucking monster?" She spit in his face. Sven tempered his anger, pushing the infernal rage deep down into his gut to let it fester with his grief. "I turned her into
nothing. When she came to me she knew exactly what I was and with her eyes she begged me to make her like me. What is your name, little killer?" "She knows my name," she lifted her eyes toward Shayna. "Ask her." "I don't know who you are," Shayna told her, watching the hurt and betrayal twist the other woman's face. "Shayna," she whined, her lower
lip quivering. "You were my best friend," she cried. "Since the seventh grade." The cold sound of Sven's laughter silenced her sobs, and Shayna's bare feet slapped across the cement until she stood beside him. "You were obviously not worth remembering," she told the other woman. "Kill her, Sven, please." For a long, silent moment Sven regarded the woman in front of them. The lack of emotion in his
face made it impossible to determine what he was thinking, but then a flicker of a smile tugged at the left corner of his mouth and he took a step back. "I have a much worse punishment for her than death," he said. Shayna turned her gaze toward him, but still didn't know what he was planning. "Feed from her, my queen." He gestured toward her. "Feed from her until you feel her heart begin to
slow and then we will make her our slave." "No!" Alahna yanked at the chains restraining her with a fierce rush of adrenaline as the reality of what he'd said sunk into her addled mind. Shayna's grin stretched at the corners of her mouth and she took a step forward and stroked a hand down the tear-streaked face before her. "Shh," she whispered, focusing her eyes and calming her voice.
"Soon you won't remember who I am anymore than I remember who you are." She leaned in and kissed a tear from her cheek. "Soon you will be my little playmate." "Your daughter," Sven corrected. "She will be yours, just as you are mine." She tangled her fingers in the hair at the back of her victim's neck and jerked violently back, exposing the throbbing vein that raced in her neck. Shayna could smell her fear,
could almost taste the tang of terror on her tongue before her fangs slid free with a soft click. She sniffed and rolled her tongue across that pulsing vein and delighted in the tremble of fear that shuddered across the woman's skin like goosebumps. When she sunk her teeth into the skin, she did it slowly. She wanted to make sure she drew out every moment of terror, agony and suffering for as long as possible.
She began to drink, shallowly at first—barely sipping at the blood that gushed between her teeth and painted her tongue before slipping down the anxious cavern of her throat. The blood warmed her and flickers of memory rushed into her brain. Two girls on a rusty old swingset climbing up to stomp the sky with their feet. Two women carrying boxes up a flight of stairs and into their first apartment.
Alahna, who'd always smelled of orchids, whose smile had been so vibrant as she reached over to tug a lock of Shayna's hair. She remembered, and though in another life, another time, she might have been sad about what she was about to do to the one true friend she'd had when she was living, the vampire squirmed with glee at the prospect of making this one hers for all eternity. "Listen to her blood," Sven said.
"Feel her heartbeat and when it slows, you will give her your blood." Shayna felt the rapid hammer of fear pounding in the heart pumping blood into her anxious body, and when it slowed she released her teeth and stepped back for a moment. Alahna hung limp, near death and gasping shallow attempts at breath, and in that state she was beautiful. Sven drew Shayna close and knelt against her chest to tear open
her flesh with his fangs. "Feed her," he whispered. "Feed her as you would a child." She lifted Alahna's face and pressed her lips against the bloodied wound, but at first her willful victim refused, turning away. She gripped her head and pushed her mouth into the blood until she had no choice but to drink. The first taste of eternity exploded on Alahna's tongue, and though defiant as she may have
been in life, she had no choice but to give in, to devour every drop offered to her. And as the offering spread through her body, burned in her veins as her heart pumped the gift through her, the fear and trepidation began to fade until all there was left for her to do was submit to the vampire waiting to come alive inside her.
****
Alahna came to sleep alone, curled up in a room so small she could barely stretch her legs, her cold body so desperate for Shayna's touch that she felt completely empty when her longing was refused. Sometimes they brought her into their bedroom and tied her to the chair to make her watch as Shayna mounted her master and rode him until his strong body stiffened and he roared with
release, Alahna felt rejected and alone just knowing her mistress did not wish for Alahna to please her. It was as if they were punishing her for what she'd done to the other one, the one they called Dylan, and though as the days passed and the memories of her old life faded, Shayna would not let her forget. Each night when the sun went down she rose from bed and opened the door to Alahna's cubby. "You killed my brother," she
would say. "And today, I will punish you." "Punish me, mistress," Alahna pleaded. "Do whatever you must to me to make yourself feel good again. Please let me make you happy." "It would make me happy to never see your face again," Shayna said. Those words stung like angry bees, and when Shayna turned her
back and stalked out of the room, Alahna's grief overwhelmed her. She only wanted her mistress to love her. Until one night the master woke her from sleep, hovering in her door like a great blonde bear, his arms crossed over his broad chest and his eyes as cold and white as winter snow. "Come," was all he said. Alahna rose quickly and followed him down the hallway and into the studio where her mistress
waited. Shayna was naked and her arms and legs were tied to the bedpost. As soon as Alahna saw her that way she felt alarm trickle through her blood, and when she glanced back at Sven he only smiled and nodded her forward. "Make her love you," he said. "It is the only way." Shayna did not look at her when she approached, and her outright dismissal made Alahna's heart ache inside her chest.
"I would love her if she were dead," she told Sven. "You will love her with your body," he commanded. "Just as you loved Dylan. She will be ours. Our daughter, our lover." Shayna could not refuse her master, just as Alahna could not refuse her mistress, and though she didn't exactly like the order he had given her, she laid her head back on the pillow behind her as Sven slid in
behind the camera. Seeing him there instantly reminded of her Dylan, sparking the dying embers of her grief and fueling her anger. "Please your mistress," Sven told Alahna. Alahna trembled at the prospect of finally being allowed to do the one thing she'd longed for since the night she first woke in that new body, with new desires and needs. She approached the bed and reached a tentative hand out to
gently stroke the length of Shayna's calf before settling on her thigh. She didn't know where to begin, and as she surveyed her mistress's naked body, her eyes lingered on the lips between her spread legs. She wanted to kiss them, taste them, push her fingers inside her hole until she arched her back and begged for more. She glanced back over her shoulder at Sven, but he only willed her forward with a curt nod.
She climbed up onto the bed and nestled herself between Shayna's thighs. Resting her cheek upon the top of her leg, for a long moment she simply breathed in her musky scent. Then she reached up and traced a tender fingertip around the thick lips and down through her quivering slit before she pushed that finger knuckle-deep into her hole. The muscles inside her cunt tightened, and Alahna smiled to herself to know she was pleasing her maker.
Lifting her face, she lowered it closer to the beautiful pussy waiting to be tasted. She darted her tongue out to moisten her lower lip and then traced it up from her hole to the glistening nub of her clit. She wriggled and writhed in response, and Alahna answered her silent plea for more by latching her lips onto that button and gently sucking and swirling her tongue in a teasing dance that made her proud. A soft moan escaped Shayna,
who tugged at the restraints holding her in place. When they didn't come free, she lifted her hips upward, pressing her twat harder against Alahna's face. Alahna grinned and slid her tongue up and down, through the moist, delicious lips of Shayna's cunt. She nudged her deliberately with her nose, bumping it up against her clitoris before diving her tongue deep into her hole to lap and slurp at her juices. She'd never tasted anything so wonderful in her life; not even the
blood Sven and Shayna had shared with her, and she wanted more. She wanted it to flood into her mouth, gush down her chin and fill her completely. Driving her tongue back upward, she licked and sucked at the throbbing nub again while driving two of her fingers in and out of Shayna's cunt. Shayna bucked against her restraints, gliding herself up and down Alahna's face as though she were fucking it.
She buried herself deep between her maker's legs, sucking and licking, swirling and fingering her until at long last gushing waves of salty sweet cum flooded into her mouth as Shayna cried release. She licked every drop clean like a dehydrated dog and then lifted her face away to look for her lover's approval. Shayna's eyes were still closed, but the lines of anger had smoothed away with her release, but Alahna
wanted to please her more. She slid up the length of Shayna's body, and positioned herself between her legs until their pussy lips were touching. Shayna's were so wet and cool, it sparked an even deeper desire inside Alahna and when she began to roll her hips up and down the constant bump of her clit against Shayna's drove her wild. She latched her lips onto the pebble-hard nipple of Shayna's breast and sucked until her
mistress cried out, all the while bumping and grinding their clits together while Sven filmed and watched with approval. The tension building up inside her felt so good that she almost didn't want to let go, not until she made her mistress cum again. She hammered and pounded, and the wet sound of their cunts slapping together spurred her even closer, but she refused to cum before Shayna. Grinding down hard and
slow, she watched Shayna's face, lips tightly pursed together, eyes squeezed; she rose to meet Alahna's every thrust as best she could despite the restraints. When Shayna finally came again, Alahna was so ready to explode that her body quivered and trembled as the most intense pleasure she'd ever known coursed through her body. Her own cries echoed through the studio, nearly drowning out Shayna's but when
she realized she'd lost control she looked down at her mistress abashed and frightened that she would reject her again. Shayna was grinning up at her almost shyly, her tongue sweeping across her lower lip. "Did I please you?" Alahna asked, her tone desperate and hopeful. "Yes," Shayna replied.
And after that night, Alahna came to sleep curled in the bed beside her mistress, no longer forced to watch from the sidelines when Shayna mounted her maker's cock and rode him to bliss. Sometimes they allowed her to please them both, and other times they pleased her too, each release drawing them closer to forgiveness, toward moving on, but never forgetting.
HorrorEroitk ORIGINS
The Creole whore poisoned him. Slipped something into his ale before she fucked him, stole his purse and left him for dead in the alley behind the portside brothel. In the fuzzy part of his mind that still functioned, Dylan remembered the bitch dragging his legs while her partner hefted him by the arms and they dragged him through the whorehouse and out the back door to dump his body near the garbage. He was sure that was what he
smelled, or maybe the poison racing through his veins had made him loose his bowels. Under the throbbing certainty in his skull that death was hovering nearby, Dylan could hear the distant bawdy hammer of piano and the raucous laughter of men one step behind his fate. Curse them all, he lifted his weak fist, fingers only half-clenched in attempt to shake that curse in their direction, but the muscles in his arm would not
comply. He could not… would not believe that this was how his life was meant to expire. He'd been all over the world in his thirty years, seen things no man should ever see. Strange beasts in the jungles of Africa with teeth as long as daggers and snakes in South America that could have swallowed him whole. Sea creatures bigger than his ship with long, flailing tentacles and eyes as black as pitch and dead men
rise in Haiti to do their master's bidding. Why couldn't he have died in Haiti? Coming back as some walking dead slave would have been just punishment for all the slaving runs he'd made over the years. The thought made him laugh, and the laugh caught in the back of his throat until he choked on it; air strangling through his tight trachea, heart thundering like fast clouds moving in to drench the dry and
broken desert earth… At least he'd gotten laid one last time, he lamented, and the bitch's cunt had been tight and clean. A memory worth reflecting on as he pushed his way onto his back to stare through the buildings into the night sky. The stars in New Orleans felt duller than they did when he was out on the open water, alone with nothing but his men, the lapping tongues of water against the hull and the constant edge of black
that reached to the ends of the horizon and back. Why couldn't he have died at sea? The sea would mourn him, but no one else. Not his mother, who'd lost interest in both of her sons when their father went off to start a new life in the Colonies. Not his father, who forged a new family and forgot his obligation to the old one. His brother was already dead and the men he'd sailed with pledged their loyalty to no one but the sea
that carried them from port to port. Whores knew no loyalty, and that left him with no one but the sea. "Fuck all," he muttered, scraping the side of his face through the dirt as he tried to lift his head. The shadow was closer, Death lingering in the shadow of the alleyway watching, waiting to reach out and take his hand, to claim him as his own. He was coming closer, and as he loomed Dylan realized Death was a
giant with long, flowing hair fluttering in the breeze and a broad chest that looked as though it was about to burst the strings in his crisp, white shirt. He'd expected Death to be bleaker, more in line with the visions of the devil his mother had always been so fond of pointing out to him and his brother while studying her Bible. But this man Death was almost beautiful. The stiff, humid wind rustled through his hair as it fell into his
face when he bent down to level his gaze at Dylan. Dylan blinked, expecting the mirage to flicker out of view when he opened his eyes again, but the world itself was shifting as Death scooped him up into his arms and cradled him against his chest like he was nothing more than a babe at the breast. His long stride made Dylan feel like he was flying, or rather bouncing on thin air as they stalked toward the end of the alley. The music grew louder, the laughter
echoing in his ears but the darkness seemed to shade his eyes, growing closer with every slow-motion blink. "Do you wish to live, Englishman?" The deep voice that spoke to him was gripped in a thick, guttural accent that made it even more difficult for Dylan's addled, dying brain to understand. "Do you want to live forever?" "Forever…" Dylan tossed that word around the waves of his mind.
"I want to live," he finally said. Death nodded, a single curt shake of his head and then Dylan lost consciousness in his arms. He did not expect to wake again, and when his eyes did open he scanned his surroundings, blinking several times to clear the blur from his vision. Beneath his body the earth rocked gently… no, it was the sea. Slow, comforting like a cradle and the waves slapping the wooden bow like a mother's voice softly
singing. Dylan tried to sit up, but a large hand centered itself on his chest and pushed him back into the bed. "I've sucked the poison from your blood." It was Death who spoke, that thick voice followed by a clever smile as brilliant eyes as blue as ice stared out at him from beneath a smooth, but heavy brow. "You will live." As comforting as that notion was, Dylan wasn't sure the
throbbing numbness in his head agreed. He didn't feel like he would live. "I am in your debt." Death grinned. "Do you not even wish to ask how I sucked the poison from your blood?" "You are Death," Dylan said. "You can do anything." When Death laughed it was a fat, jovial sound that seemed to shake the whole cabin around them. "I am not Death," he finally said. "Only
one of His many children, and I have spared you to invite you on a long journey with me. My name is Sven." "You saved my life, Sven," Dylan said. "Whatever you ask of me, I will do." "What if I asked you to live forever?" As a boy Dylan's mother told him the only way to eternal life was through the blood of Christ. He had
to repent all of his sins and honor God's sacrifice with good deeds, but he'd laughed in her face before he left England and assured her he'd much rather burn in hell. "Are you God?" He laughed again. "The Devil, perhaps," he said, and in a flash of unexpected movement he lifted his head back and bared a set of long fangs that emerged with a soft click that echoed through the empty ache in Dylan's head. "If you wish to live
forever, I will make you a devil too." It was Dylan's turn to laugh, a mad chuckle surely brought on by fever, or maybe he was already dead and the fanged monster before him truly was the devil. His laughter churned into a stuttering choke that seized his lungs and burned his throat, and the devil man pushed him back into the bed and brought cool water to his lips. The liquid did little to alleviate the fiery tickle itching in his throat and several
times he nearly choked. "I am already a devil," Dylan finally managed in a gruff whisper. "A murderer, a thief… an impure stain upon God's clean Earth." "Then you were born to become like me," he said. "Will you come with me to the other side of life? Become a devil and walk for an eternity at my side?" An eternity… he contemplated those words. Dylan swallowed
against the ache in his throat, knowing that if he refused the offer, the Devil would resume his Death mask and take him anyway. Either way, he had nothing left to lose. "Yes," Dylan said. The vampire descended on him almost before the word had uttered from his lips. The sharp length of his teeth slid into Dylan's throat like a hot knife through butter and as his rapid heartbeat sped through his veins, he could hear the
monster drinking as the blood pumped through his sucking lips. He cried out, a strangled, desperate plea that nearly begged for his killer to never stop drinking from him. The feeling was intense, erotic to the point that Dylan could feel his limp and tired cock grow stiff and come alive inside his breeches, stretching toward a need he'd never once considered. When he felt his heartbeat slow, nearly sputtering to a halt inside his
chest, the vampire lifted away from his throat. Trickles of blood dripped down his white chin, stained his teeth pink as he bared them and tore open the vein in his wrist. He held the gushing source to Dylan's lips and said nothing more than, "Drink me." Dylan closed his mouth around the wound and suckled, drawing in mouthful after mouthful of thick, syrupy salted copper and allowing it to rush down his throat, into his
belly. It burned as it coated his insides, like fire rushing through his veins, a disease of soldiers marching death through his blood and raising new life in his body. And as he died to be born anew, his maker held him in his arms and promised he would never feel pain again.
****
Marguerite circled her legs around the big man's hips and wiggled her naked cunt against his clothed sex to entice him. "Your friend should not watch us from the shadows like a ghost," she giggled as she drew back to look into his eyes. "Not when there are plenty women here to satisfy his needs, or young boys if that's what he prefers." "My friend likes to watch," he said.
"And this turns you on as well?" she asked, glancing back over her shoulder into the corner where the hooded man sat like a monk with his hand neatly folded in his lap. "Do you like it when he watches you?" His grin was slow, enticing as he followed her gaze into the shadows. "We are brothers," he explained. "Everything we share, even women." Her bawdy laughter filled the
room. "If you both wish to fuck me, you will pay me double." "He does not wish to fuck you," he said. "He said he's already had you and your cunny was so divine I must taste you for myself." She squinted her eyes in attempt to focus on the man in the corner, but in the crude candle light she could not make out his face. Only a minimal outline of his profile stared back at her, but even though his eyes were shrouded by his hood,
she could clearly feel the intensity of his stare. "Your brother has not fucked me." She returned her attentions to the man beneath her and writhed slowly up against him to entice his affections. "I would remember him," she said. "I remember every sailor who slips between my legs, but you I think I will remember most." She giggled again, her quick hand grabbing the bulging cock inside his pants and giving it a generous squeeze. "Now take off your clothes and let me
marvel at that beautiful monster between your legs." Sven glanced over her shoulder again and as their eyes met, Dylan nodded and Sven gripped her waist in his large hands to lift her off his lap. He shoved her back onto the bed, and she laughed so loud it nearly sounded forced. When Sven lowered his pants, her eyes widened with delight and she leaned up on her elbows to admire him. "Oh my," she fluttered
her lashes. "I've never seen a cock so big." He advanced on her with a grin, lowering himself between her thighs and brushing the thick head through her slippery folds until it throbbed outside her hole. Fucking her would bring him very little pleasure, but watching Dylan kill her while he fucked her would make him explode. She squealed as he shoved himself forcefully inside her, filling
her stretched pussy completely and allowing himself a satisfied smile when she lowered her head into the nest of pillows behind and her opened her mouth in a wide, gasping 'o'. "You are so cold." She shuddered and lifted her hips to meet his thrust. "Like ice between my legs." He stroked through her loose walls, increasing his speed and ramming his fat head so hard inside her that every pulse of his hips
made her cry out. She lifted her legs and hooked her feet behind his back, pumping him in and out with the muscles in her thighs and squeezing her cunt around his thick shaft. She was so wet, so warm, but Sven could smell the poison on her skin, the lust for murder burning in her blood. Greed pulsed through her with every pump of her heart. She mewled and moaned like a cat in heat, her long, keening cries surely echoing through the brothel.
Downstairs her partner was probably listening, and when her cries grew soft that was his signal to creep up the stairs and help her carry her victims into the back alley. But Sven had refused her offer of wine, even though draining every poisonous drop from the flagon she insisted he sip from would do nothing to harm him. Behind him he heard Dylan rise, heard the shuffle of fabric as he lowered his hood and strode toward
the side of the bed to hover behind Sven and watch the whore writhe and scream underneath him. She didn't notice him at first, she was enraptured by the thick drive of Sven's cock through her walls, so wrapped up in putting on the perfect whore's show to please him that it wasn't until Sven shoved himself ball's deep inside her and stopped to linger there that she finally opened her eyes. She tried to leap back when she
saw him standing above them, but there was nowhere to go, and before she could scream Sven's hand clamped tight over her mouth. His lips curled inward as he hushed her with a gentle, "Shh." Marguerite's dark eyes widened, tears brimming in their corners and slicking her lashes as she blinked in furious defiance as if the act itself would make the ghost above her disappear. "You do remember my brother,"
Sven said, slamming his hips down hard into hers. She tried to bite the fingers across her lips, but the gesture only served to make Sven laugh. "You seem surprised to see him." Shaking her head, a tear slipped down the curve of her cheek and dripped into her auburn-brown ringlets. "You poisoned him and stole his purse," Sven reminded her. "Left him for dead in the alley, but I
found him and I brought him back so he could make you pay." Once more she responded with a furious shake of her head, her stifled scream buried in the folds of Sven's tightly clasped fingers. Dylan opened his mouth and relished in the quick emergence of his fangs, but more than that he delighted in the trembling, writhing screams of protest and disbelief smothered beneath Sven's hand. Dylan gripped her hair, tangling his
fingers tight through the strands and yanking her head back to expose the throbbing vein beneath the skin. Dropping to his knees beside the bed, he held her head in place as she jerked and struggled, and Sven pinned her body beneath his. To calm and soothe her, he began fucking her again, driving his shaft slowly in and out of her cunt. When Dylan darted out his tongue to taste the pulsing flesh above her jugular
vein, she cringed and screeched, but as soon as he sunk his teeth in her entire body went slack as if she'd lost consciousness. Dylan wanted her to suffer. Sven had told him that fear made the blood taste even sweeter, though at that point the sweet tang of vengeance on his tongue was almost enough to satisfy him. Sven removed his hand from her mouth and slapped her in the face to rouse her. Once, twice, three
times before the sting of his palm made her eyelids flutter open. He covered her lips again before she could scream and terror pumped her blood so fast it nearly exploded into Dylan's hungry mouth. She struggled and flailed, but Sven kept fucking and Dylan kept feeding, devouring every gushing drop of life that rushed from her vein to nourish his body. Her pulse began to weaken, and Sven picked up the pace, slamming his cock in
and out of her so fast and hard the bed trembled and shook the floorboards. He met his release when the last drop of blood pumped into Dylan's mouth, and as he swallowed, Sven's body stiffened and he collapsed atop her with a satisfied grunt. Her eyes stared wide and lifeless at the ceiling, her soft lips fell slack and open and a small droplet of drool glistened at the corner of her mouth. Sven withdrew and jerked
his breeches upward, securing them around his waist. Dylan wiped his mouth, blood smearing across the back of his hand, the crimson liquid flickering like crushed rubies in the candle's light. "Do you want to reclaim your purse?" Sven asked. Dylan shook his head no and pushed himself up off the floor. "There will be other purses."
Sven responded with nothing more than a swift nod and then flipped a silver coin onto her still, ample bosom. "We will burn this place then," he said, "and move on." No one even regarded them as they made their way down the stairs, through the parlor and out the front door. On the veranda, Dylan took the lantern from its hook and shattered it against the railing. Leaping flame spread and lapped at the liquid inside, reaching
along the wooden railing and spiraling up to engulf the porch in jumping flickers of white hot-blue and shuddering orange. Neither of them looked back as they walked into the night, toward the docks; not even when they heard the shrill confirmation of screams as fiery death consumed every damned soul in that brothel. "The world is ours," Sven told Dylan as they stared out over the black ripples of sea dancing under
silver moonlight. Dylan smiled over at Death and said, "Let us claim it."
HIS DAD'S BEST FRIEND
The prospect of having the entire house to himself all weekend had been stimulating Gavin's imagination all week long. His mom had fussed incessantly as soon as she found out he was coming home from college for spring break week, guilty that she and Dad had planned a weekend getaway the same time. "It's fine, Mom." Gavin pulled open the refrigerator door, the comfort and familiarity of a fully
stocked fridge making his stomach rumble. "I'll still be here when you get back." She rested her hand on his shoulder and squeezed. "We can always cancel," she said. "Go next weekend instead." "No, we can't, Elyse. Our tickets are non-refundable, and like the boy said, he'll still be here when we get back." "It's just that we never get to see
him now that he's away at college," she frowned. Gavin grabbed an iced tea and closed the refrigerator door before turning on his fussing mother and offering his most endearing grin. "I probably won't be very good company this weekend anyway, Mom. I'm burnt from mid-terms and I just want to catch up on all the sleep I missed this last week." "So you'll be home then?" his dad interrupted.
"All weekend," he sighed. "Oh, good. Alex is coming over to take a look at the furnace tomorrow morning. You can run to the hardware store if he needs any parts." Gavin groaned. Living in the dorm made it almost impossible to indulge in his secret fantasies, especially considering his roommate was a raging homophobe who had no idea Gavin was into
guys. He was always horny after coming back to the dorm from a workout at the gym. Watching the lacrosse team stretch and flex made him so hot, but living on campus gave him nowhere private to release. He'd come home for spring break with a brain jam-packed with fantasies and he planned on spending it jacking off until there wasn't a drop of cum left in his cock. Alex coming over to fix the
furnace on Saturday meant just about as much privacy as he had in the dorm, and Dad would be expecting him to help. Gavin popped the top on his iced tea and swallowed a few healthy gulps to wash the taste of disappointment from his mouth. At least his parents would be leaving soon, and he'd have all of Friday night to watch porn and jerk off to his heart's content. Sadly, it would have to be enough…
***
Gavin was hard before he propped open the screen on his laptop and typed in the web address to his favorite website. His parents had been gone less than an hour, but he was so excited to finally have a moment to himself that they were barely at the end of the driveway when the longing inside him
stirred. It had been awhile since he'd been on the site, and the tons of new videos that had been uploaded in that time beckoned to be watched. Fucktastic Footballers, Deep Throating Wrestlers, Licking Lacrossers… just reading the descriptions alone made him feel like was about to explode. He clicked the Deep Throating Wrestlers video and reached down to rub the head of his dick through the fabric of his boxer-briefs.
It felt so good, and even though he knew he'd have plenty of opportunity to cum and cum again during the course of the night, he wanted to savor his first good whack in months. His eyes gravitated to the scene unfolding onscreen and imagined the five o'clock shadow of the dominant wrestler brushing against the inside of his own leg as his mouth trailed closer to his cock. Gavin didn't want to close his eyes for a single second as drew his cock out through the
waistband of his underwear and spit into his palm for lubrication. He rolled the warm, slippery spit across the head of his cock, shuddering as he imagined it was another man's lips and tongue dancing across his sensitive head. Tongue spiraling around in soft circles across the mushroom, which Gavin tried to mimic with his hand, before tightly closing his sticky fingers in an o around the top and stroke almost forcefully down. He'd
never been with another man before, only fantasized, so he could just imagine that a real mouth would feel so much better closing over his cock, tongue gliding down the length of his shaft while gently squeezing fingers gripped and tugged playfully his balls. Gavin smoothed his slick hand down his shaft, jerking back upward in quick strokes until he found the perfect rhythm and let the men onscreen stoke the inferno of his
ultimate fantasy. Minutes was all it took, and he'd barely made it past the blow job fantasy before sticky wet gobs and strands of hot cum spurted up onto his bare chest and dripped down into the crevices of his washboard stomach. He leaned back in the chair with a spent exhale and watched the creamy warmth dribble down his skin. Swiping a finger through it, he lifted it to his lips and darted a tongue out to taste his own
hot, salty cum. He swirled his tongue around the tip of his finger and delighted in the taste of hit on his tongue before lowering his mouth over his long digit and imagining it was another man's cock. The image was almost enough to stir him back to life again, but it was just a finger and hardly comparable to a real cock. Someday he was going to have to get over his inhibitions and find another man to explore with… until
then, he'd just have to keep imagining he knew how good it would feel and pretend he actually knew. *** On Saturday morning, Gavin woke already hard and ready to explode again. The months of pent up sexual frustration couldn't be stroked away in a single night, even if he had jerked off more than a dozen times before finally crawling into bed and enjoying the first night
of satisfied sleep he'd felt in forever. He loved the feeling of his morning wood in his hand, fingers curling around his length and gyrating slowly upward. Flashbacks of at least a hundred hot videos pulsed through his mind as he closed his eyes and started to pretend again that the hand pleasuring him was not his own, but that of some secret lover he'd brought home with him for the weekend. He increased the pressure and
slowly worked his hand down to his balls. Rolling one of them between his thumb and forefinger, he gasped at the shudders of pleasure that raised goosebumps across the surface of his skin. His brain went into creative overdrive, as he imagined and reached his hand lower, tickling the sensitive skin around the outside of his puckered asshole. He'd experimented before, slathering lotion over the end of a candle and pushing in and out of his ass with one hand, while jerking
himself off with the other, but it was a difficult and often uncomfortable feat to manage. Still, it would be well worth the effort, he thought, lifting his head to survey the desk for a candle that would do the trick. There was one in the drawer, one he'd hid there after his last experiment, and he was just rising to take it out when he heard the backdoor slam open downstairs and footsteps across the hardwood floor.
"Shit!" he muttered. He'd completely forgotten his dad's best friend Alex was coming over to work on the furnace. The tightness of his erection was urgent, and fear of being caught made that urgency almost impossible to bear. If he didn't at least cum, he was going to spend the entire day with the worst pain imaginable, a pain he'd grown used to in the dorm, but had promised himself on the drive home he
wouldn't have to endure for at least a week. He darted naked across the hallway and slipped into the bathroom, quickly locking the door behind him and turning on the shower. His experiment would have to wait until later that night, after Alex was gone and he was alone again. In the meantime, he'd have to wank in the shower to alleviate his aching hard on. That would get him through the day.
*** Alex was standing at the kitchen island with his cell phone up to his ear, barking gruffly into the mouthpiece when Gavin made his way downstairs in nothing more than a pair of shorts. Beads of water still glistened across his shoulders and chest, dripping occasionally from the shaggy brown locks of his towel-dried hair to slither down his back. He ignored Alex's conversation and poured himself a
bowl of cereal. He was just sitting down to dig in when the man hung up and turned around slowly to eye him. Gavin's dad and Alex had gone to college together, so Alex had been a permanent fixture in their family Gavin's entire life. Family functions and picnics, holiday dinners and celebrations, Alex had been at every single one of them because Gavin's mother felt sorry for the guy. He wasn't married and never had any
kids of his own, and Mom often said she didn't mind being the surrogate family he vicariously lived through. "Hey, Gav," he lowered the phone onto the countertop. "Your dad said you were coming home this weekend." "Spring break," he said after swallowing. "You glad to be home, or loving your freedom?"
Gavin laughed. "A little bit of both. Living in the dorm sucks pretty bad, but the classes have been great." "Good to hear," Alex nodded, reaching a hand up to scratch at the stubble darkening his cheeks. "I'm sure the last thing you want is to spend your Saturday here helping me fix the furnace. Probably have friends to see, parties to go to." "Nah," he shrugged. Most of his high school friends had gone south
for Spring Break, to Mexico and Florida, but Gavin had never been much of a party guy. Though the freer atmosphere and intoxication that often came with the spring break holiday might have finally provided him with an actual opportunity to explore his sexuality with a real partner, in the end he'd chickened out, a part of him scared to death of his friends finding out his secret. "I'm just hanging out at home for the weekend. Watching videos, catching up on sleep, you
know." Alex watched him while he talked, and maybe it was Gavin's overactive imagination, but he swore a few times the man's eyes fixated on his bare chest and washboard abs. He felt his cock start to stir inside the loose fitting athletic shorts he was wearing, then he slammed the thought right out of his mind. Alex was a friend of the family, and Gavin had overheard enough of his Dad and Alex's
female conquest stories to know better. "Well, I'm gonna be here all day trying to get this thing working. There are a couple parts I need from the hardware store. Do you think once you finish your breakfast, you could make a run for me? It'll give me a chance to get started." "Yeah, no problem." "All right then. Here's the list of
parts I need," Alex lowered the paper onto the counter. Maybe it was his imagination again, but Gavin was pretty sure Alex's gaze had traveled down to the semi-hard bulge in his pants and lingered there for a second before he lifted his eyes back to meet Gavin's. "I'll be downstairs working on that furnace. You've got my cellphone number if there are any problems at the hardware store." Gavin nodded, "You bet."
Alex turned toward the basement door and Gavin turned his head to inspect the other man's ass. The faded jeans he wore fit snugly, defining the curve of his cheeks as he walked and further stirring Gavin's need. He was going to have jerk off again before he headed to the hardware store if he didn't stop. And besides, all those conquest stories… But as he finished the last few bites of cereal in his bowl, his mind
began to wander. He'd heard plenty of stories before about men trying to hide their true nature from the people around them by sleeping with as many women as possible. And try as he might to remember Alex bringing a lot of different women to family functions throughout the years, Gavin could only recall him showing up alone. Always alone. Maybe… No, he was being stupid, and besides, even if by some strange chance Alex was secretly gay, Gavin was more than
likely off-limits in Alex's mind. After all, Alex was his dad's best friend. He was practically family.
***
Gavin parked his car in the garage and reached over for the bag he'd thrown into the passenger's seat when he came out of the hardware store. He hoped he'd gotten everything right. The sooner
Alex got the furnace fixed, the quicker he'd be on his way and Gavin could return to his weekend wank-fest. He kicked his shoes off inside the door and walked softly across the kitchen floor to the basement door. He was surprised how quietly the normally squeaky door to the basement was when he tugged it open, and wondered if after eighteen years of listening to his wife complain, Dad had finally oiled
the hinges. He padded down the first few stairs, but stopped when Alex came into view. He was reclined in the corner of the family room sofa, his pants drawn down to his knees and the buckle of his belt softly jingling in response to the furious pump of his hand. Gavin's eyes widened as he watched the tanned fingers glide masterfully up and down the length of Alex's shining rod, but it was the sheer girth of it that stirred Gavin's
own desire again. He'd seen a lot of cock in the locker room at the gym, and he watched enough videos to know that Alex's thick shaft wasn't exactly the textbook norm. It bulged in his hand, his fingertips barely touching as he circled and jerked, eyes closed and head rested on the back of the couch behind him. He'd never actually been in the same room with another man jerking off before, and the visual stimulation almost made him feel
dizzy. He sat down quietly on the stairs and lowered the bag of parts onto the step below him. With eager eyes he watched and absorbed it into memory with full intent on replaying the images over and over in his mind later when he was alone with his candle. Gavin's erection ached inside his shorts, and his hand instinctively moved down to caress the tent pole pushing at the soft fabric. He squeezed the head between his
fingers, leaning down a little further to get a better look at Alex on the couch. Alex's free hand gripped the cushion of the couch, the veins strained his grasp was so tight, and Gavin wondered how long he'd been at it and what had sparked the urge in the first place. Had Dad, in his carefree childless home left some dirty magazine on the coffee table? A soft moan escaped Alex's tightly pursed lips, and Gavin watched him increase the speed and
pressure, squeezing his cock so tight in his hand the engorged head was so purple, surely it was about to pop and explode. Gavin rubbed faster through his shorts, his hand gripping the shaft and stroking despite the restrictive barrier. He knew he was going to have to dart back upstairs before Alex caught him watching, but he had to see the other man shoot his load to complete the visual he'd be whacking to for months to come.
"Gavin," Alex muttered softly, and at the sound of his name Gavin' s hand tightened. Maybe he was hearing things, imagining what he wanted to hear for the sheer purpose of improving his new fantasy, but then he whispered it again, "Oh god, Gavin, suck it. Oh yeah! Suck that cock!" Hearing those words, Gavin was surprised his he hadn't exploded inside his pants. He couldn't believe it. It was too good to be true. Alex
was whacking off and fantasizing that Gavin was sucking his cock. No way! It couldn't be. And then he felt his heart almost stop in his chest when Alex said, "I know you're watching me, Gavin." He still hadn't opened his eyes, or slowed the furious pumping of his hand when he said those words. "Is it making you hot?" Gavin swallowed hard, and was sure his erection was about to shrivel up at being caught peeping,
but the blood only seemed to pump harder, making his cock ache in his hand. "Come down here," Alex said. "It's okay." "I…" "You like men." Alex was still jerking, and though his rhythm had slowed the swollen head still looked like it was about to gush forth a geyser of creamy, white cum. "I've known your secret for awhile," Alex
went on, his words rushed forth with breathy desire. "Funny how we can sniff each other out, isn't it?" Gaven was standing, wobbly legs descending the stairs almost against his will as if the big, beautiful dick called out to him. His lips twitched with need, and in a haze of movement Gavin found himself kneeling on the floor between Alex's legs, curious, wanting hand reaching out to take over. Alex felt warm in his hand, the
skin soft but his shaft hard and it was not unlike stroking himself, but different and exciting. His eyes still wide, he watched with wonder and delight as his fingers stretched to curl around the shaft, leaving a gap almost half an inch wide between his thumb and forefinger. Gavin rolled his fingers gently down the length, then glided back up with a squeeze that made the bulging head grow an even darker shade of purple. A glistening drop of pre-cum beckoned Gavin closer, and without
a second thought he darted his tongue out to taste the other man's salty juice. It spread out on his tongue, sparking life in his taste buds, and Gavin knew he wouldn't be completely satisfied until he had more. Parting his lips, he lowered them over Alex's thick head and began to slowly suck on the first cock he'd ever tasted. The thickness stretched at his mouth, but Gavin didn't care. He wanted as much of
Alex in his mouth as possible, so he opened wide and began to bob his head up and down. Alex's hands came down on the back of Gavin's head as he pushed his hips forward and began to slowly fuck the inexperienced boy's eager mouth. Gavin swirled his tongue around the fat head every time he rose back to the top, but it was only a quick flicker before his whole mouth was full of hot cock again and he could feel the throbbing head poking at
the back of his throat. Several times he thought he might gag, as Alex struck his gag-reflex, but the convulsive reaction made it possible for him for push in even deeper, even if for only a second. He couldn't believe he was finally sucking his first cock, his hand jerking the shaft, which was slick with his drool as he took every inch he possibly could into his mouth. The salt of Alex's sweat mixed with more pre-cum on
Gavin's tongue, and the taste itself gave him more pleasure than he'd ever experienced while watching other men together on web videos. It tasted better than his own cum ever had on his fingertip, and he couldn't wait until Alex shot his load and he could swallow it in gushing streams until the last spurt pumped into his mouth. "You're good at that, boy," Alex said, his voice a hoarse whisper of intimate appreciation. "You suck a
lot of cock at school?" The word "Never," gurgled from his cock-filled lips, the vibration of his voice stimulating Alex even more. His hips bucked faster, his slick shaft writhing in and out of Gavin's stretched lips so fast he could barely keep up. "I'll be your first taste of cum then." He didn't realize that was a warning, and even as the base of
Alex's cock began to leap in Gavin's stroking hand, it wasn't warning enough for the hot streams of jiz that began to squirt against his tongue and paint the back of his throat. He swallowed it in delighted gulps, sucking hard as Alex writhed and convulsed, harsh cries of excitement rushing forth in waves that matched every gush of cum. Gavin didn't stop sucking until he felt the rock hard tool in his mouth began to soften, and only
then did he regretfully pull away. He watched Alex's dick fall against his leg and felt a soft sigh deflate his chest. He was so hard in his shorts, it wouldn't take much to get him off, but he wasn't sure how Alex would feel about helping him quell his need. "For someone who's never done that before, you sure are good at it," Alex said, and then breathed out with a whistle. "Damn, boy!" he added with a soft chuckle.
Gavin's hand moved down over his aching length and Alex's eyes followed the gesture. "Should we take care of your little problem now?" he asked, raising a suggestive eyebrow. "Could we?" his voice felt small in his mouth, especially after there'd been such a big cock in it. "Lie back on the floor," Alex smiled. "We'll get you all taken care of in no time."
Alex nodded, and began to back up onto the floor. Before he could even reach down to lower the elastic waistband of his shorts, Alex pushed off the couch and dropped down beside him without even bothering to pull up his own pants. He gripped them in his hands and slid them gently down over his hips without even bothering to pull up his own pants. The visual of his flapping, flaccid tool combined with the awareness that he was finally going to feel another man's lips
around him nearly made him lose it before Alex even touched him. Bending down on the floor beside him, Gavin closed his eyes and didn't even realize he was holding his breath until Alex's hand slid up the length of his thigh and gently fondled his ballsack. The breath that escaped him was tempered with a gentle moan of pleasure when he felt the coarse stubble on Alex's cheek brush along the sensitive skin of his head. Alex
moistened his stiff lips with the tip of his tongue, and then opened them over Gavin's tingling head. His mouth was warm and wet as it glided with deliberate slowness as far down the length of Gavin's cock as it could before he felt his head bounce off the back of Alex's throat. The abrupt pressure combined with the wonderful feeling of a real mouth gobbling his sex almost made him cum right off the bat, but Gavin fought against his body's
primal urge. He wanted to enjoy every minute of it as long as possible because he had no idea when he'd have the opportunity for another experience with Alex. He gasped as fingers tightened around his base, fist pumping him up and down. strokes that gradually increased in firmness and speed as a teasing tongue lapped and slobbered on his shaft and head. His toes curled inside his shoes, and his fingers clenched at his
sides, nails digging into the carpet as the sensation began to overwhelm him. It was better than he'd imagined, and almost beyond his control he could feel his hips jerking instinctively upward as he began to drive himself in and out of Alex's mouth. "It feels so good," a whispered moan breathed across his moist lips. "Oh my god, it feels so good." His head brushed across the
back of Alex's molars, and shudders of pleasure rippled through him. Alex was still kneading his balls in his hand, fingers circling around them, squeezing and tugging before sliding down into Gavin's crack and teasing at his quivering asshole which seemed to clench each time the tip probed curiously at his hole. He wanted that finger inside him, tickling his prostate until waves of hot pleasure shuddered through him, but a part of him was scared to ask for it.
"Please," the words barely escaped his lips. "Please finger my ass, Alex." Alex lifted his mouth off of Gavin's cock, but he could still feel the wonderful sensation of those lips rolling up and down his skin. He watched as Alex spit generously on his finger and then latched back onto his aching head to vigorously suck. He almost came again, but when he felt the slippery probe of Alex's spit-slicked fingertip press
around his hole again, he knew he had to hold back. He wanted that finger in his hole, but each time Alex prodded to push his way inside, Gavin felt his muscle's clench against the intrusion. It wasn't until he allowed himself to focus on the incredible mouth he was fucking that he relaxed and Alex's stiff finger eased its way past the tight muscles. He pushed it inside slowly, the first digit of his finger wiggling around
in Gavin's tight, virgin hole for a few minutes before he slid in to the first knuckle and began to slide in and out. His other hand jerked hard, stroking up and down while sliding Gavin in and out of his mouth. He didn't know how much longer he could hold back because it all felt so good and he wanted it to last, but holding back was starting to hurt and he just wanted to let go and convulse and cream into Alex's
generous mouth. Maybe it didn't have to end there though, he thought, jutting his hips up to fuck the mouth around his cock before jamming his aching asshole back down to devour the wiggling finger widening him further. Maybe he could help Alex fix the furnace and then convince him to stay for dinner. After that, they had the whole night to explore this unexpected new relationship together.
At the thought of maybe convincing Alex to poke more than his finger into his ass, Gavin let the hot waves wash over him. Thick ropes of cum shot from the head of his dick, but they were so fast and so sudden, they painted Alex's lips sticky white before he could swallow them up, but that didn't stop him from licking the creamy offering from his lips and then cleaning every drop from Gavin's spent cock. He slid his finger slowly out of Gavin's ass and dropped back
to sit on the floor beside him. They were silent for a moment, and Gavin felt his stomach begin to knot with worry and fear. What if it was a one time thing? What if Alex couldn't even look at him anymore, now that they'd crossed the line together? He looked down his sweaty chest and caught a glimpse of his softening cock, which had just moments earlier been buried deep inside the most wonderful mouth he'd ever felt. He wanted
more, wanted everything. "Do you think maybe…" he started, his voice barely audible to his own ears. He cleared his throat and realized if he didn't speak up now, he might never get what he wanted. "Do you think maybe after we fix the furnace, we could go at it again?" A slow smile drew at the corner of Alex's moist mouth. "Let's get to work," he said, adding with a wink, "so we can get back to playing."
Gavin swelled inside with joy. His wasted weekend wasn't going to be such a waste after all, and playing with Alex sure beat playing with himself!
Thank you for purchasing All & Sundry: One Big Book of Smut by Rachel Boleyn. A Sweet Nothings Production.
For more information on the author, visit her website at http://www.rachelboleyn.com
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