I kissed the hollow of Ben’s neck, and lovingly worked down between his pectorals, licking and biting softly as I went. Upon reaching his chest I stopped. I felt Ben stiffen and hold his breath.
Early morning had come, and the room was bathed in a cool light. “Is this what you were trying to hide?” I chided gently. Still straddling Ben I sat up and took his face in my hands. He met my gaze, albeit reluctantly. With his eyes upon me I dipped my head down to the two horizontal scars beneath his chest and kissed them tenderly. Ben sighed a long, languid sigh and his whole being noticeably relaxed from deep within. He stretched back so that his torso was flexed and his stomach muscles convex. I could see the tight hairs furled over his belt, and I wanted to pleasure him. Reaching down to his pelvis I hesitated. “Is this OK?” I asked.
“If it’s OK with you?” Ben counter-questioned, his eyes locked with mine, scanning me searchingly.
My reaction was to undo Ben’s belt and slowly pull his trousers and then his boxers off, kissing his abdomen all the while. He held his breath as I caressed his hip bones and then dropped to his inner thighs.
“Are you all right with me penetrating you?” I asked Ben. I wanted to make this handsome man feel as sexually celebrated as I had been.
“If I’m completely honest, it’s been so long that I’m really not sure . . .” Ben blushed. “You’re the first person I’ve let close to me in a very long time.”
“I’m honoured,” I smiled. And I meant it: I was bowled over by Ben, and I was touched that he clearly felt the same as me. It might sound weird, but although I work in the erotic arts, I rarely really fancy people: maybe it’s the fame, maybe it’s because I’m always working, but it takes a rare person to get me interested enough to pursue a few dates, let alone get sexually involved. So I wanted Ben more than I’d wanted anyone in years. And I wanted him to want me too.
So, flipping into seduction mode I looked up at my new lover from under my exaggerated lashes and drew my mouth along his pubic area. Ben groaned, and tensed as I lowered my tongue to his pussy. His clit was significantly larger than mine – from all the male hormones I guessed – and I hoped this meant he was extra responsive. I licked carefully as I didn’t want to hurt him, trying to gauge his sensitivity.
“God that feels so good,” Ben moaned. I smiled inwardly: no problems there, then! I took his hardened clit into my mouth and sucked it like a dick. This sensation at least I could give him, and it seemed like he enjoyed it – below me I could see his toes curl. I licked Ben vertically, tracing the folds of his labia, and tentatively traced my tongue to his hot opening. He was wet, and I knew he wanted me – I felt myself become moist in response. “You’re gorgeous, Ben!” I exhaled into his depths.
“I think I might be OK with—” Ben gasped, too turned on to finish.
I quickly slipped a finger inside him, gently, insistently. As he bucked against me I slid another finger in, and then a third. With my mouth on his clit I licked a finger from my other hand and pressed it against his dark opening. I paused, waiting to see if Ben was happy with this. Like most men, of course he was – what he may have lacked in physicality he more than made up for in mentality. I heard a positive growl in response, and felt him press his arse hard against me. I needed no more encouragement and, lubricating my finger once again, I teased his body’s coy resistance until it offered itself up to me. Suddenly I was able to slide my finger in, and at that moment Ben was full of me. With my mouth on his clit too, it was only moments until I had him writhing in my hands, impaling himself on my fingers. It had clearly been as long for him as it had been for me: soon I could feel his cunt tense around my fingers, and as if from far away I heard and felt a sonorous rumble . . .
“Uhhh!” Ben roared.
“Hooo!” I breathed on his clit, as a warm fountain of wetness hit me on the chin. Not only had Ben come, but he’d actually squirted!
“Hangover from the old days,” Ben panted. “Sorry!”
“No need to apologize,” I blew back. I’d been so focused on Ben’s pleasure that I’d hardly taken a full breath myself, and suddenly I was desperate for oxygen. I collapsed on top of him, feeling our hearts beat hard in unison, our fresh sweat sweet and slick on our chests, my head nestled in the safe warm space between his jaw and his shoulder as I shielded my eyes from the daylight.
“Wow, that was more than worth waiting for!” I heard my lover say. I could hear the true contentment in these words and feel the happiness fit to burst from his chest beneath me. I knew he could hear the smile in my voice as I enthusiastically agreed: “I needed that too!”
We sat up so that we could see one another more clearly, our fingers embracing, our faces beaming with a joy so genuine that I knew that our night together had been unexpectedly special for both of us.
“You’re really something else, you know that?” Ben murmured as his mouth tenderly nuzzled the sensitive spot below my ear.
My whole body quivered in response. “You’re really something else too,” I said.
From the depths of my handbag I heard a text come through on my phone. I smiled as I turned back to Ben. My sister would have to wait . . .
Marks
Rachel Kramer Bussel
“Stop it!” Emma squealed as Russell’s blows with the belt went from slaps with more noise than sting to ones that seared her skin, ones that would surely leave marks all over her pale backside. Normally she loved knowing that he wasn’t just spanking her in the moment, but was giving her a parting gift as well, something she tucked into her panties and skirts as she went to work or was reminded of as she sat down at a restaurant for lunch with a friend.
The tinge of afterglow combined with being able to admire her ass were added bonuses to the thrill she got from being spanked, the rush of delicious sensation that she could rarely get enough of. Even on her most off days, when the world seemed askew, a spanking from Russell could set her mind at ease, could right her world. As wonderfully painful as they were, she balked, sitting up and shifting so she was sitting on the hotel bed. “They’re all going to know.” Yes, even at an alternative venue, Emma wanted to be liked and not judged, to fit in. She was all too used to feeling like the odd woman out for liking things like being spanked, slapped, tied up, choked and verbally degraded. She’d found a community of likeminded people who gave her the support she needed, who understood that after a long day she liked to come home and sometimes wear nothing but a collar. This was a new adventure for Emma and Russell, a welcome pleasure after eight years together.
“Know that you like to be spanked? Honey, I’m sure they can tell just by looking at you,” Russell coaxed her. The idea of being “found out” in non-kinky company had always been something they’d talked about in bed, but now it wasn’t having its usual arousing effect on her. “And besides, so what? We’re adults and we’re at an adult resort. The point is to do whatever we want. And I know you want a spanking.” He was right; she did, very much so, and she knew he wasn’t talking about a simple over-the-knee hand spanking, but the kind of blistering session that made them both breathless, the type of spanking that fueled their relationship and, Emma thought, kept it solid and secure.
Spanking was something they could always turn to – and did. But showing off her ass after a full round of Russell at his most vicious wasn’t on her agenda. The bruises and welts he tended to leave on her pale ass were special to her, marks of her endurance she treasured with pride, but they were for her to see in the mirror or him to admire around the house. She’d wanted to come here, but she was still feeling out the crowd, and didn’t want to jinx herself and be seen as separate because of her spanking predilection. Sure, most of these people maybe engaged in a few slaps before and during sex, but Emma liked it hard and rough.
“Well, it’s fine for them to suspect, but I can’t walk around in a nudist hotel the way I normally do, with marks and bruises all over me. It’s one thing if I show off my tattoos or maybe bend too low and they see a bruis
e or a few lines so quickly they could almost think they imagined it, but what would these people think if they saw exactly how red you make my ass? They’re exhibitionists, sure, but that doesn’t mean they’re kinky. I don’t want to scare them.” Still, even as she said the word, the idea of scaring them filled her with a sense of excitement, a sense of power. She was an exhibitionist, but she was also a perfectionist and competitive at everything she did, from her job as a party planner to finding the best-tasting coffee in town.
If she was going to do something, she wanted to be the best, and if you’re at a nude resort, the goal is not so much to have the mythical “perfect” body as to score the most attention. If Emma hadn’t known that when they walked in, she’d have figured it out from the parade of people, classically beautiful and not, strolling through the hotel in their altogether. The truth was, to really stand out in a place like this, you’d have to not just wear clothes but dress like Lady Gaga. Emma liked her size-ten body, liked the way it felt when she draped herself across Russell’s lap, liked how her large breasts bobbed as she walked around topless, as she had last night, their first at the resort. She’d been too nervous to go bottomless, but eating dinner in public with her tits hanging out had been freeing, and exciting, and they’d both enjoyed seeing so much naked flesh, whether they were interested in touching it or not. Russell had moved his seat next to Emma’s so they could whisper and discuss their fellow diners, and who they’d want to kiss or spank or fuck.
“Fine, for tonight. No marks. But I’m not letting you go to dinner until I’ve enjoyed your ass, one way or another. What’ll it be, Em?” He was asking her if she wanted to get spanked or have him spread her cheeks and shove his cock deep into the hole he opened up there. She liked both of them, though spanking was her favorite. She’d never been spanked before meeting him save for a few light smacks, and those hadn’t done what his smacks did for her. Russell’s spankings were a work of art, from the way he teased her to the way he made her ass feel like it was coming alive under his hand.
When she didn’t answer, he took her silence to mean she was letting him decide, and he bent her over the hotel bed, first stroking her pussy, then slapping her sweet spot, where her cheeks met. Emma used to make noise when he spanked her, thinking, based on previous experience, that that was what all men wanted, that that was what a true sub did. She’d thought that until Russell had ordered her to be quiet or he’d make her be quiet, and she’d realized that the act of suppressing her noises turned her on as much as holding off on coming when ordered to. She wasn’t just a spanking slut, but a glutton for being ordered around, told what to do, made to obey automatically. Even thinking about having to ask a question, knowing Russell would get to decide the answer, made her pussy clench whether she was in line at the drugstore or just waking up.
So she stayed quiet as his hand swiftly beat her bottom, faster and faster, harder and harder. No matter how many times Russell did it, Emma found something new to enjoy about his smacks, and at that moment, if he’d dared to ask her, she’d have been so far gone in the pleasure of what he was doing she wouldn’t have cared about the marks. But Russell was true to his word, and he merely left her ass burning with heat that made its way to her cunt. He ignored that, telling her she’d get fucked when he was allowed to mark her. She smiled, an ironic, secret kind of smile, the kind only a fellow submissive or intuitive dominant would understand. It was a smile of delighted denial, a smile that promised her pleasure for obeying, or the pleasure of pain for disobeying. She sucked his cock on her knees, her heels pressed against her warm buttocks, knowing they wouldn’t last the whole vacation without her being marked.
* * *
And then they ventured out into their first morning at the resort. Many of the guests at this hour were wearing swimsuits or some light form of clothing, fluttering white dresses blowing in the breeze, thong bikinis nestled between tight bottoms. Emma gasped when she saw a stunningly gorgeous woman, statuesque and curvy, with a mane of glossy, beautiful honey-blonde curls tumbling over her breasts. But it was when the woman turned around that Emma’s heart started to beat faster, because her ass looked like what Emma’s looked like after a particularly rough spanking session. There were dark stripes of red set against an overall paler shade of pink, as if the woman had gotten sunburned and then spanked, but the otherwise pale skin surrounding the redness told Emma otherwise.
As they made their way to the buffet table, a tingle of excitement swept through Emma. There was something about being around so many naked people that made exhibitionism a whole different ball game. It was one thing to playfully flirt with having a wardrobe malfunction while on the subway, or to be the girl getting beaten the loudest and longest at a kinky play party, but when nudity was simply the norm, it made you notice all sorts of other things about people. Emma had trouble selecting from the sumptuous feast in front of them because she was so excited about having spied the woman. She didn’t consider herself bisexual exactly, but there’d been a few times in her life when the sight of a stunningly gorgeous woman had made her reconsider the label, or at least made her want to drop everything and immerse herself in the woman in question.
Emma and Russell had agreed that, while they were mostly monogamous, and had only indulged with one other partner each in the time they’d been together, this vacation was their chance to be free, unfettered from their daily lives, including the constraint of monogamy. As long as they told each other what they were doing, they were free to indulge. So as Emma spooned some macaroni and cheese and salad onto her plate, she was already cooking up opening lines. She scanned the room for the woman, who was seated next to an older man with a bushy saltand-pepper beard. “Let’s sit over there,” she said to Russell, who was a few steps behind her.
“Is this seat taken?” Emma asked, knowing it clearly wasn’t. The couple introduced themselves as Janet and Paul, and they chatted easily, as if they weren’t all sitting there topless. When Emma’s hand reached for Russell’s beneath the table, she also felt how hard he was, and that intimate knowledge made her squirm. She picked at her food and tried to sound intelligent as she patiently waited until there was an appropriate moment to ask Janet about the state of her ass. For all the flesh on display, it wasn’t like they were at an orgy, and the chatter around her was on much more mundane topics than belts versus paddles.
Finally, they’d finished eating and Janet suggested she and Emma head over to the women’s spa and soak in the hot tub for a while. “You’ll be all right on your own, won’t you, honey?” asked Emma. At Russell’s nod, she went off with Janet, feeling her skin tingle before they’d even stripped down and planted themselves in the almost-scalding water. Emma couldn’t help but ask, “This doesn’t bother you? I mean, I noticed your marks . . .” She trailed off, hoping she hadn’t said too much.
“Oh, those?” Janet said, laughing as her hair fell into the bubbling water. “Doesn’t hurt any more than it did getting them.”
Emma let that sink in before saying, “I like it, too. Spanking. Getting spanked, I mean.” She laughed nervously. “I was actually worried about being too marked here. I didn’t know how kinky a place this was. I’ve been to a few swingers events, and every time, kink was definitely frowned upon. I didn’t want to be the odd girl out, and I actually stopped Russell from using anything too heavy this morning. And then I saw you . . .”
Janet stood and thrust her ass out toward Emma for her to admire. They were the only ones in the spa, and when Janet said, “Go ahead, you can touch it.” Emma did, finding the woman’s skin warm to the touch. She cupped her palm around Janet’s perfectly lush curve, smiling as she saw up close exactly what Janet’s welts looked like.
“I can take a lot,” she said. “I mean, I pay for it when I sit down, but it’s worth it. What about you?” Janet was as casual as if they were talking about knitting.
“Me, too. We tend to only play to our limits on the weekends, when there’s some downtime to recover.”
“What about here?” Janet asked, floating across the water so she was right in front of Emma, her lower lip jutting out and her lips parting in a way that even not-so-bi Emma could read as desire. “Did you come prepared?”
“Yes,” Emma said, the word catching in her throat. “We have some equipment.” She swallowed, suddenly light-headed, her pussy throbbing.
“Do you only play together, or does he ever loan you out?” The way she asked made Emma’s whole body tingle with the assumption that Russell owned her.
“We’re allowed extracurricular activities, though mostly I’m just with him. It’s so intense that . . . well, most other people don’t tempt me. But that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t.”
“Wouldn’t what?” Janet asked as she leaned in and before Emma could even think of an answer she was kissing her, her tongue sliding easily between her lips, hot and seeking. Janet pressed herself right up against Emma, mashing her into the edge of the hot tub. Emma gave herself over to the kiss, and to Janet’s knee pressing against her pussy.
“Wouldn’t . . . I don’t even know, actually.”
“Wouldn’t let me spank you?” Janet’s words hung in the air. “Just because I can take a lot doesn’t mean I can’t dish it out. I don’t top too often but this ass—” she reached down to grab it “—would be an honor to spank.”
Emma smiled at her, still stunned at how fast this was moving. “I’d like that. A lot,” she said, realizing that in all her time with Russell, no one else had given her anything more than a light slap on the ass. And she’d never played like that with a woman. Emma was a good eight inches shorter than Janet, petite to Janet’s tall, commanding presence. From the way Janet leaned down and sucked on her lower lip, then shifted to her neck, sinking her teeth in, Emma had a feeling Janet would rival Russell in her spanking ability.
The Mammoth Book of Best New Erotica 12: Over 40 outstanding pieces of short erotic fiction (Mammoth Books) Page 25