Down and Dirty
Page 1
Table of Contents
Title Page
Also by Alison Tyler
Foreword
Introduction
YES
THE PROFESSOR AND MARIANNE
LIKE A VIRGIN…
ALL EYES ON HER
LEFT OUT - Lillian Alexander
THE DIRECT APPROACH
THE NAUGHTY NANNY
TRY THIS AT HOME
DOOR TO DOOR
AMORE
THE PORN DATE
CHRISTMAS MORNING
SLUMBER PARTY
CHEATING TIME
GO!
1 FAN
PRICE TO PAY
MAKE IT A DOUBLE
DESERT FLOWER
NEW TRICKS
VOCATIONAL HAZARD
FIRST-CLASS SERVICE
DRESSING ROOM
THE FORM AND THE FUNCTION
THE LIZARD QUEEN
JAKE’S APARTMENT
THE PARTY
WITHOUT HER
SUMMER RAIN
TOO SHY...
MADE TO ORDER
TWO THUMBS UP (THE PERFECT DATE)
SHAVED
“I DO”
TESS NEEDS A SPANKING
THE RUNNER
SOMETHING SWEET
BELLA’S SECRET GARDEN
WORKING OVERTIME
PENANCE
STEAM
HERE, IN THE MIDDLE OF EVERYTHING
STAINED
DEBUT
TEACHER’S PET
MORE THAN A MOUTHFUL
VERONICA’S LOVER
BATTERY POWER
WHOLE
TOPLESS
CLEAVAGE IS A GIRL’S BEST FRIEND
LA DOLCE VITA
CANVAS
PACKAGE DEAL
LIFE LINES, LOVE LINES
WITHIN
BLACK MAGIC WOMAN
OBSCENE PHONE CALL
WHO’S THERE?
THE STRANGER
LIPSTICK LOVER
TICKLISH MARY
EVERYTHING OLD
EXPLORING PSYCHES
ASHLEY’S SECRET
BIRTHDAY SPANKING
WEATHER WATCH
MEN AT WORK
FINAL EXAM
ABOUT THE EDITOR
Copyright Page
Also by Alison Tyler
A Is for Amour
Afternoon Delight
B Is for Bondage
Best Bondage Erotica
Best Bondage Erotica,
Volume 2
The Big Book of Bondage
C Is for Coeds
Caught Looking
(with Rachel Kramer Bussel)
D Is for Dress-Up
E Is for Exotic
Exposed
F Is for Fetish
Frenzy
G Is for Games
Got a Minute?
H Is for Hardcore
The Happy Birthday
Book of Erotica
Heat Wave
Hide and Seek
(with Rachel Kramer Bussel)
Hurts So Good
I Is for Indecent
J Is for Jealousy
K Is for Kinky
L Is for Leather
Love at First Sting
Luscious
The Merry XXXmas
Book of Erotica
Morning, Noon and Night
Naughty or Nice?
Never Have the
Same Sex Twice
Open for Business
Playing with Fire
Pleasure Bound
Red Hot Erotica
Slave to Love
Sudden Sex
Three- Way
Is sex dirty? Only if it’s done right.
—Woody Allen
FOREWORD
Down and Dirty.
Now there’s a title for you. It resonates in your head. Say it out loud and listen to how it sounds, the images it brings.
Down. Say it low, with a purr in your voice. Down there. Down there. Below the waist, down under your clothing, delve down to secret desires, burrow through the outer layers of your mind to those forbidden thoughts.
And dirty.
Say it wickedly, with a glint in your eye and a seductive smile in your voice. “I’ve been a very dirty girl, you’ll have to spank me very hard.” Dirty weekends, short and dirty little office trysts that are so much fun, leaving you with that secret “just been fucked” smile on your face. For days.
Down and Dirty. You know what you’re in for with a title like that—stories that get straight to the point, that thrill from the first word, suck you in with the urgency of the moment. These stories are like a shot of absinthe: abrupt and sharp, with a smooth afterburn that puts fire in your loins and poetry on your lips.
The quickie is all about opportunity—manufactured or spontaneous. It’s about the thrills: the delicious fear of maybe being caught; of illicit lovers; of illicit acts; of spontaneous sex with strangers; or, a meticulously preplanned tryst with a lover that has a finite time for the finale. There’s no time for slow, sweeping caresses, for a gradual buildup. The quickie is not a four-movement symphony, but a breathtaking plunge into the heavy beat of a Rolling Stones song.
Some of the quickies in Alison Tyler’s marvelous collection have the preplanning of a military invasion—lovers who set the scene, assemble the props, and scout the perfect location for those few minutes of intense pleasure. In “Who’s There?” by Sage Vivant, Clarise is blindfolded in a room full of people, the centerpiece of the feast, with the perfect cast assembled for her pleasure.
Other stories encapsulate the spontaneity, the fun of the unplanned moment: people with sex never far from the tops of their minds, who seize the opportunities when they arise (pardon the pun). In Alison Tyler’s “Men at Work,” the narrator gives herself over to the rough and assured hands of a sexy road crew worker in a blazing display of passion.
Whispers of love, rose petals, and bubble baths have their place—but not in this collection of quickies. There are no languorous seductions; the words that these stories evoke are need, lust, and urgency. These stories get dirty from the first few sentences. “He fucked my ass last night,” says Kinde Moore in “Whole.” There’s no wandering off for a cup of coffee after that opener.
In “Canvas” by Renee Roberts, the narrator yearns for the inked dom behind the bar. And she gets her, in a flickering reality of skin and ink and words laid as beautifully and precisely as tattoos on virgin skin.
The contributors to Down and Dirty are the upper echelon of contemporary erotica: Rachel Kramer Bussel, Maxim Jakubowski, M. Christian, Thomas S. Roche, N. T. Morley. Alison has a fine eye for assembling an anthology, and these stories, like fine wine and women with good cheekbones, will age beautifully.
As N. T. Morley’s Veronica says to her lover in “Veronica’s Lover”: “Anything at all. You can do anything to me.”
You can do anything at all to me after reading this collection.
Cheyenne Blue
Sunshine Coast, Queensland, Australia
INTRODUCTION
Everyone has the potential to be dirty. You might think you’re incapable of diving into the naughty side, of crossing over from simply creative to seriously kinky. And yet, if put in the right (or wrong) situation, you can fool even yourself. Trust me. I know. I thought I was good. I thought I was nice and sweet and honest.
And then I met Eden.
Eden was exactly my age. He was strikingly handsome, so handsome that strangers would turn around for a double-take when they passed by him on the street. He worked in the café at my building, and he sent me sexy smiles whenever I went to buy coffee. I wasn’t supposed to like him. Despite his smiles. Despite the fev
er-flush of total arousal I felt whenever I looked his way, when I brushed his hand, when I kissed him, when he pressed me up against the wall behind the building and fucked me—
I wasn’t supposed to like him because I was already taken. Seriously taken. Engaged taken.
Still, I fell. Fell hard and fast and down and dirty. Fell into the backseat of his bright red Cadillac, fell into his arms, fell onto the floor of his apartment. And I have to say that I liked it. Who am I kidding? I fucking loved it. When you’re clean—when you’re innocent and sweet and smile all the time and say “please” and “thank you” in that polite, humble way...well, you don’t know what dirty is.
But I know now. And I’ve never gone back.
After you read the down-and-dirty selections in this arousing anthology, you won’t want to go back either. You’ll be addicted. Not specifically to cheating, perhaps (although some pieces, such as “Like a Virgin…” by Maxim Jakubowski and “Package Deal” by Alex Reed do deal with extracurricular erotic activities), but addicted to breaking boundaries in general. To following your carnal needs and discovering each dirty little secret hidden within your libido.
The short stories in this collection—and they are short, no more than 2,000 words apiece—are written by the best authors in the business, including M. Christian, N. T. Morley, Thomas S. Roche, Sage Vivant, and Rachel Kramer Bussel. Some are sensational sexual snippets, others fully detailed dramatic depictions. Featured in this gathering are stories about spanking, tickling, ménage à trois, public sex, bondage, girls with girls, phone sex, sex toys, and more. While the themes cover any X-rated connoisseur’s favorite lustful laundry list, all of the pieces have one thing in common: they’re dirtier than dirty.
Which, I gotta admit, is exactly the way I like them.
Your unruly editor,
Alison Tyler
YES
Dante Davidson
When I get you home, I’m going to spank that beautiful ass of yours until you can’t sit down—”
“Home—” Sandrine interrupted, tilting her head at him, dark auburn curls falling away from her sun-kissed face. “Back in New York? So that must mean I get to be naughty until then. Two more full days of out-and-out naughtiness.”
James looked at her with his sternest expression in place. “The hotel,” he said, amending his prior statement. “And you just made life even harder on yourself, baby doll. You just won your perky ass an extra ten strokes.”
“This ass?” Sandrine asked, slipping sideways in the seat and rubbing one hand over her ripe, round curves. Her husband took his eyes off the road just long enough to admire her gorgeous rear view, and he gave her one playful swat before she could slide back into the proper position.
“You know it,” he said. “You know exactly what it’s going to feel like, don’t you, Sandy? Spread over my lap, that sinfully short white skirt up to your waist, your panties pulled down—”
“Panties?” she asked next, and then she started to lift the hem of the Lycra skirt up in front, slowly, so that he’d get a view of the increasing yardage of her naked thighs above her stockings and garters. “What panties?” she asked next, and he caught a glimpse of her cleanly waxed pussy lips, dotted with a decadent design done in shimmering rhinestones. Since arriving in California, his girl had gone totally native, even indulging in the latest sexy looks for the region between her thighs.
“That just makes things easier for me,” he said, grinning at her. “Doesn’t it?”
“Easier—” she repeated, having as much fun with this game as he was.
“When I paddle that ass of yours. Nothing to get in the way.”
Sandrine loved when he talked to her like that. Suddenly, she didn’t think she could wait the twenty minutes it would take to get to the hotel before fucking him. When she told James this, he gave her a lecherous smile. “You don’t have to wait, do you?” It was all the encouragement she needed to reach over, unbuckle his belt, and free him from his slacks. With a graceful motion, she bent at the waist and locked her ruby-glossed lips around the head of his knob, then brought the first inch into her mouth. James sighed at the sensation, and at his response she got even wetter, knowing that she was pleasing him. He wrapped one hand in her long hair, helping her find a rhythm that he liked.
“Oh, fuck,” he moaned, “that is so good.”
Sandrine kept slurping at the encouragement, flicking her tongue around James’s tool, then working her lips in an even tighter, more ferocious embrace. James gave her cock-sucking lessons as she worked. “Lick it,” he said, his voice low and deep, “from the tip to the base of the shaft. Work for it, girl. Really reach for it.”
Sandrine used the flat of her tongue to follow his instructions precisely. She wanted to get him off before they arrived at their hotel—this was her personal mission. If she was going to work, then he would have to work, too. Work at keeping his mind on the road while his libido shot upward into the stratosphere.
“Now give it a nice, wet kiss,” he said, sounding pleased. “I mean, really sloppy.”
Sandrine got her lips wet with a lick of her tongue and then French-kissed the head of his cock. It seemed to kiss her back, his pre-come flavoring her mouth. She savored the sensation, enjoying the taste of him for a moment before continuing to service his throbbing member.
“You’ve sucked cock before,” he said, voice hoarse, pushing her head down as he climaxed. Now, she swallowed hard, taking every drop deep down her throat.
Her cunt was sopping and she truly couldn’t wait to feel his cock inside her. She looked around, wondering if there was a place for them to pull over, just as they arrived in the circular driveway of the Four Seasons. Perfect timing.
The couple left the rented car with the valet, then hurried through the lobby to the elevator, and when the doors closed, Sandrine got on her knees again, ready to take him into her mouth. He was already hard again. She could see that from the tent in his pants. James had another idea. The compartment was walled with mirrors, and he told her to stand up, then turned her so that she was facing her reflection. Quickly, he lifted her skirt, parted her lips, and dipped his still-wet cock into her dripping pussy.
“You like that?” he asked.
The mirrors bounced their reflections from wall to wall, so that she and James were fucking to infinity. Sandrine forced herself to keep her eyes open wide for the whole ride. It was difficult. She wanted to squeeze her eyelids closed as the pleasure intensified. Besides, watching herself on the verge of orgasm was a little disconcerting. Her eyes had a bright light in them, and her lips were parted with a hungry, yearning expression.
As always, James was more in control of himself. His face remained composed as his cock slid easily in and out of her pussy, making those sexy wet noises as he glided in her juices. His balls slapped against her with each thrust, and he easily lifted her off her feet to give himself better leverage. Sandrine loved the feeling of being wrapped in his great strong arms, his mammoth prick filling her up inside, and she sighed with disappointment when the car reached the top floor. James quickly slid out of her and readjusted his clothes. Then he picked her up, threw her over his shoulder, and carried her to the suite.
When they reached the door, he punched in the code, opened the knob with one hand, and carried her inside. From this position, her skirt had ridden up, revealing her bare ass, clad only in a garter belt. James gave her bottom a hard smack, and she made a happy sighing noise to let him know how much she liked it.
“All bad girls should have their bottoms spanked,” James told her, sitting down and quickly positioning his wife over his lap. She could feel his rock-hard cock pressing up against her from below, and she squirmed on it, hoping that he would enjoy the friction. “And you are a bad girl, aren’t you?”
Right on the verge of a spanking, Sandrine’s mind generally stopped working. Her thoughts were busy, focused on the sparkling pain in her immediate future and the undeniable pleasure that would follow.
Fear tinged the entire episode, because she didn’t know if James was going to make his previous statement come true. Would he really spank her so hard that she’d have trouble sitting? When she realized that he was doing nothing, just waiting, she understood that he expected an answer.
It took her a moment to mentally replay his question:
Was she a bad girl?
She knew the correct answer by heart, knew what to say in order get exactly what she wanted. A simple, single word: yes.
THE PROFESSOR AND MARIANNE
Sage Vivant
You can pick up the notes from one of the other students, Marianne,” Professor Morrissey said brusquely. “It was the class on illegal searches and seizures.”
She hadn’t come to his office after hours to be so easily dismissed.
“I can’t rely on other students. That’s why I came to you.”
He looked up from his desk finally, his sloe-eyed stare piercing her with dark curiosity. She flashed him the smile she knew was her most devastating.
“I’m particularly interested in strip searches,” she continued, tossing her wave of blonde hair back over her shoulders to reveal her braless breasts under her clingy white top. Even before she touched a finger to a nipple, she knew it was hard.
“Marianne, I don’t think this is the appropriate—”
She tilted her head, still smiling as she stroked the gentle slope of her full breast. “What’s not appropriate? Searches? Seizures? College students who need help?”
“You know what I’m talking about. You shouldn’t be touching yourself in front of me that way.” His gaze kept returning to her voluptuous chest.
“Why? Does it make you hard?”
She’d never seen skin as dark as his blush, but there it was—a deepening of his color as he blinked nervously. “Please stop.”
“If I were a criminal, what kind of search would be legal?” She worked herself from the front of his desk to his side. Once there, her free hand played with the hem of her very short skirt. He watched cautiously.
“Better yet,” she continued, “I’d love for you to show me what’s illegal.” Grabbing a handful of skirt at her crotch, she raised it to reveal a smoothly shaved pussy. Her juices had already started to spread to the insides of her thighs.