The Naughty Collection

by Ruby City Books

  “Elizabeth, I can’t hold back!”

  She jumped off of Jake, and stuck the head of his dick in her mouth while furiously stroking the shaft. It didn’t take much and Jake was blasting down Elizabeth’s throat. She did not let a drop get away, and kept sucking long after he stopped shooting. By the time she finally let him go, Elizabeth had no more energy left. Tom took a blanket off her bed, and laid down on his side, next to her. As she snuggled up to him, Jake spooned her from behind and Tom spread the blanket over all three of them.

  “I have a new test for you two,” Elizabeth mumbled against Tom’s chest.

  “What is that, dear?” Jake whispered into her ear as he ran a finger down her hip and back up the crack of her butt.

  Elizabeth squeezed her cheeks together, “I want to know which one of you can build the better bed for three.”

  The End

  Laid Off

  Chapter 1

  It was three o'clock in the morning, and I felt as though I'd been staring blankly up at the ceiling for hours now. It wasn't much to look at, but I gazed fixedly at it, as though some secret, some unspoken answer to the problems troubling me lay within its smooth, noncommittal surface. Of course, no such answer came to me, and I let out a heavy sigh of exasperation. I was going to be dog tired come morning, and that was precisely the opposite of the state of mind that was required of me- the very thing that was causing me such restlessness could only be solved if I was at the top of my game, and the more I stared up contemplating how fucked I was, the more likely it was that my fate would become its own sort of self-fulfilling prophecy.

  I turned over in bed, and stared at my significant other. Kyle lay there oblivious to my worries, his nostrils flaring with sleep, his mouth hanging slightly open, and his perfect, muscular body humming with Z's as his broad chest expanded and contracted, turning me on despite my despair. I watched him for a long, long moment, and gradually things began to appear less bleak. I was awfully damn lucky to have him, and I began to get horny as I studied his unconscious form- his broad, sculpted pectoral muscles, the agonizing rungs of his six-pack abdominals, the deeply cut V-lines of his Adonis muscles, pointing like an arrow beneath the sheets... There was a bulge in the bedspread over his crotch, and God help me if I didn't start fantasizing, getting some mighty lurid ideas of how I might occupy myself until morning. We'd tried this sort of thing before- playing with one another while we slept, with, of course, the explicit permission of the other, and there was something very intimate, and supremely gratifying about it.

  But then I sighed once more, and decided fuck it, this wasn't going to do me any good... I needed reassurance right now, not just sex, and as much as the idea turned me on, I knew it wasn't about to solve a damn single one of my problems. I shivered in my sleepless isolation, and tugged the covers tightly around my own naked body, the friction against my member doing little to assuage my unwelcome arousal as the sheets scraped over it. I twisted my thighs together, and was for a moment incredibly conscious of the thudding of my heart in my ears. Then I heard a grunting noise beside me in bed, and knew that my hogging of the sheets must have roused my lover from his sleep- not an intended effect, mind you, but secretly a desired one, as I'd been longing for company in this darkness of night for hours now.

  “Mm,” groaned Kyle, flexing his spine and twisting out all the kinks. My masculinity throbbed and my mouth watered as I beheld the glorious arching of his spine, but I once again suppressed the urge, and took a hard swallow of saliva to help clear my head. I reached over, and put my hand affectionately on my boyfriend's chest, running my fingers through the warm, sweat-slick terrain of his flesh, remembering once again how goddamned lucky I was to share a bed with this absolute sexpot of a man.

  “What's wrong, babe?” he asked me through squinted eyes, and I continued to stare at him for a moment, before at last responding.

  “It's... Work...”

  “Oh...” said Kyle, as though it should have been obvious to him the entire time, and he took my hand in his, caressing my hairy knuckles with his thick, loving fingers. “It'll be alright...” he went on, trying to reassure me. “We'll get through this, I promise... We're too important to the company to be gotten rid of so easily, at least not during the first round of layoffs.”

  I gave him a look, indicating that surviving simply the first round of layoffs was not all that inspiring of confidence- God only knew how many additional rounds of cutbacks were to follow, and how long we could continue to survive.

  Kyle and I worked at an office- we'd met there, in fact, quite unexpectedly. He and I were, I guess you would say, bisexual, although when we first encountered one another it had been more like mutual bicuriosity than outright homosexual desire. For my part, I'd always been popular with the ladies, and I'd had my fair share of feminine flesh in the years proceeding Kyle and I's chance meeting. I wouldn't say I was a womanizer, per se, but I did quite enjoy a good roll in the hay with varied female partners- I remember during my best week ever of college, I'd invited a different chick to my place every single fucking day, and on the last day I'd had two women over, leading to my first ever menage a trois- which, I might add, was fucking amazing...

  I'd had more stable girlfriends, I suppose, as well. I wasn't a complete man whore or anything- I was, in fact, capable of a relationship that spanned past the boundaries of a meager string of one night stands. But as the years rolled by, and as I began to savor the prospect of sampling a different pussy every couple of nights or so, I began to think that the concept of monogamy was not one for which I was genetically inclined. In short, I liked to screw around, and sow my wild oats while I was still young and eligible.

  Any homosexual impulses I'd felt up to that point, meanwhile, I'd largely tried to suppress for the most part. I can pinpoint with some reasonable degree of accuracy how that particular little ball of yarn began to unfurl- it was from my regular, enthusiastic consumption of pornography. Although if you'd asked me I would have told you I was as straight as a goddamned arrow, watching porn presented the somewhat obvious dilemma of having to watch naked guys in order to see them fucking naked women. I mean, yeah, you could get porn with just the chicks doing things with one another, but if you wanted to actually feel immersed in what you were watching- like, if you wanted to pretend that you were actually participating in the action that was taking place on screen, and, um, time yourself to the proceedings, if you will, it was crucial that a penis somehow be included in the lurid images unfolding onscreen.

  It didn't happen right away, either, or at least I didn't recognize it as such. To me, it was simply the pleasure of watching two people slapping genitals that turned me on, and I didn't give much thought to the fact that I was enjoying watching men have sex just as much as I enjoyed watching the women. It took many, many months of such viewing for that particular fact to sink in with any clarity, and when at last I started watching gay porn almost every other night, I suppose I'd more or less justified it to myself. As some pseudointellectual college brat, I of course knew about Kinsey's scale of sexual orientation, and about how no man or woman is supposedly one hundred percent committed to their alleged orientation- there tends to be, without exception, some degree of wiggle room.

  So yeah, that was simple enough... I decided sure, I was bicurious. I had no problem admitting to myself (if not to others) that I enjoyed indulging in gay porn, and I of course had the potential to explore this side of myself further if I so chose- maybe I would buy myself a nice long veiny dildo, and start exploring the magical world of prostate stimulation with the thing... That would surely be gratifying enough without having to ask any serious questions about my sexual orientation. I didn't have to start having sex with guys just because I enjoyed watching them do it with one another.

  But then things got complicated...

  I finished up with college and bounced around for a few years, interning, brown nosing, climbing my way up the ladder here, there, wherever the hell would take me, an
d gradually I began to grow pretty accustomed to corporate life. Finally, I'd managed to worm my way into my present job through some personal connections, and it was here that Kyle and I wound up sharing a workspace together. He and I got along well right off the bat, sharing a lot of the same interests- perhaps more than either of us knew, really- and for the time being I was content with life. But things began to grow tense between the two of us, the more and more we got to know one another. Not angry tense, exactly, but awkward tense... Sexually tense...

  Neither of us, initially, said a single word whatsoever about the fact, and someone outside of the situation personally might not pick up on it in the slightest if they weren't observant. But there was no mistaking the awkward glances, the turning away from one another, our mutual breakings-out in cold sweats whenever we dwelt for too long in one another's proximity. Kyle and I, undeniably, and unspokenly, had the hots for one another... Big time...

  Sometimes, we would exchange these sorts of glances, sad glances, mutually recognizing our hopelessness. We didn't say a word about what we were thinking or feeling, but it didn't have to be said, and there wasn't all that much we could think to say about it anyway. Adding to the complications was the fact that Kyle himself had a girlfriend at the time, and it would have been foolish for him to simply ditch the beautiful buxom babe of his in favor of a secretly harbored, taboo gay crush that he couldn't even say for certain was something that he genuinely wanted.

  The weeks during this period seemed like fucking eons, and for the time that it went on it was sheer torture for me. The more and more we worked together, the more awkward, the more sexually tense things became, and I didn't honestly know if I could fucking stand it for much longer.

  Finally, I bit the bullet. Scared shitless, confused, not knowing what the hell on Earth I thought I was doing, I invited Kyle over to my place one evening to watch the game- hell, I didn't even have a particular game in mind, or even a specific sport for that fucking matter. And Kyle didn't ask, either. He agreed, too enthusiastically, almost instantly, and so things were settled. He showed up at my place at around seven the following evening, both of us shaking with anticipation, my stomach in a knot, my skin drenched in sweat.

  After a long time of sitting silently, stupidly beside one another on the love seat, we began to make out. I don't even remember how that little inevitability came about, but sure as shit it did, and before long our clothes were falling off of our bodies as if by magic. Our naked, muscular limbs wrapped around one another, our forms melted into a singular unit, our minds reeled with delight, with anxiety, with lust, with a million different sensations as we consummated our long-simmering love.

  We had sex. It was, mind you, a bit of challenging ordeal for the both of us. Neither of us had yet to acquaint ourselves with homosexual intercourse, and we were as clumsy and as awkward as two virgins as we fumbled around with one another's bodies, laden as they were with a few extra parts than we were used to in making love to the female anatomy. We rubbed our sticky, erect penises together, savoring the friction and heat as we kissed, nearly to the point of cumming on that alone. And eventually, I let him penetrate me, given that we couldn't seem to decide which of us should be the dominant partner, and I was feeling perfectly willing to play the female role in this case. He put himself inside me, and began to pound my ass with his rock hard cock, making me squeal, making me cry from the agony, my arms wrapped around my back as he fucked me, the agony roaring through my form as he humped and pushed and sweated it out on top of and inside me.

  And thus, it had commenced.

  After a night of sweaty, exhausting, excruciating penis-in-butthole intercourse, the two of us woke up, wrapped in one another's arms, unable to fully comprehend what we'd just done together. We kissed one another awake, and then showered together, deciding against screwing in the bathtub for the time being, pre-occupied as we were with the how the hell we were going to proceed from here.

  We announced our relationship to HR that afternoon. It was one hell of an awkward conversation, I will not hesitate for an instant to tell you. People can profess their sympathy with the LGBT community until they are rainbow in the face, but when two sexpots of men who were always presumed to have been as straight as the day is long suddenly come out as secret gay lovers, people will talk, and not always in the most favorable of senses...

  We got some pretty damn odd looks throughout the remainder of the work day. People weren't intentionally rude about it, I don't think, but just a little bit flabbergasted as to how in-the-dark they'd been about things- “Them?!”, Kyle and I could almost hear them asking in their heads, the gears in their brains pushing their damnedest to comprehend, the gossip flowing like water throughout the office as the hours pushed by.

  And not least among the gawkers and spectators was our boss, a certain Mrs. Kuntz (divorced.) Although, up to this point my depictions of sexual obsession have been regarding both Kyle and myself, there was an additional complicating factor in the presence of our MILF of a boss. Mrs. Kuntz was in her late forties I would estimate, and was, despite her age, not a wholly unattractive specimen of womanhood. Or, perhaps, her age actually contributed to her peculiar sexual prowess... Before Kyle and I had gone on to consummate our butt love, we'd both made note of the fact that Mrs. Kuntz seemed to have a bit of a sweet tooth for younger men, and that she herself was not wholly undoable. There was a certain sort of, I dunno, almost unbearable sexual prowess about her... A sense of sexual predation, a gravity almost, something in her demeanor that disallowed the possibility of not thinking about banging the woman (her name was, after all, Kuntz.) She had glazed, caramel skin, mature, mind you, looking beautiful for her age, but said age pretty damn self-evident all the same. She always wore these steamy sorts of tight-fitting outfits, her tits hanging out the tops, and revealing such an amount of cleavage that it almost made you red in the face to have her get too close to you. She also did a lot of leaning over shoulders, which in turn led to a fair amount of boob droopage, and the temptation to glance over at her swinging titties seemed to grow more and more difficult as time rolled by. Her ass, too, was... Ur... Shapely, to say the least... And she always smelled strongly of some scent that Kyle and I, guys as we were, were far too dense to put our fingers on specifically. I wouldn't say the smell itself was an especially beautiful one, but attached to that body of hers it verged on intoxicating.

  To make matters worse, then, was the fact that, in addition to that scandalous body of hers, Mrs. Kuntz proved to be a pretty damn flirtatious boss. She was always smiling at either Kyle or I whenever she happened to be in our proximity, giving us winks that were so slight that they could only partly be identified as such, rubbing up against us as she walked past our desks, and doing this goddamn thing where her tongue sort of seeped through her teeth whenever she smiled at us- I don't even know how to describe it actually, but it always seemed tantamount to her outright licking her lips at us whenever it occurred.

  So, as you might chance to imagine, the news of Kyle and I outing ourselves as bisexual lovers evoked quite a reaction in our boss. It wasn't exactly readable at first, either... It was almost like she was attempting to size us up as she passed us that day, neither condemning nor condoning, but trying her damnedest to wrap her head around something, and attempting to understand where exactly that left her in terms of the overall picture...

  And then, announcements of downsizing had come, like a shock to our motherfucking systems.

  Weeks, months had passed with Kyle and I in our honeymoon phase, having sex almost every night, thinking that life was just about as goddamn perfect as it was ever going to get, and the two of us more mutually satisfied than we'd been in as long as either of us could remember. When the word came down from the heavens of corporate the company was in financial doo doo, and that before long there were going to be some pretty damn severe cutbacks to staff, it was like a goddamn axe to the neck for Kyle and I. Or, at least it was for me... Kyle, for his part, God bless
him, seemed to take the news with a relative grain of sand, understandably worried, but not spazzing the fuck out like I was, fed up and frightened that what I'd worked so hard for could slip through my hands so easily. The hammer could come crashing down at any given moment, leaving us high and dry, kicked out on the street like two aimless bums, as inconsequential to our superiors as a fucking ant is to a human being.

  In the darkness, Kyle put his hand on the top of my head, and began to stroke his fingers through the sweat-slick tufts, calming me, assuaging my worries of being laid off to no small degree.

  “We'll get through this together,” he whispered in my ear, and his breath aroused me beyond belief. I gave him another glance, a mixture of skepticism and a desire to be fully convinced, to which he responded by leaning back in, and nibbling on my ear.

  That pretty much got me under his thumb...

  I laughed, and he began to kiss me on the side of my neck, his tongue rolling across my flesh as though it were the most delectable thing he'd ever had the pleasure of consuming, his breath sweet, intoxicating despite the fact that he'd so recently been asleep. I moaned, and his lips paced around to the underside of my neck, taking a lap of my Adam's apple, his tongue swiping across my slight stubble, and his touch so Goddamn pleasing that I could scarcely stand it.

  He allowed his mouth to come sweeping back up, and put his lips squarely onto my own, giving me my much needed nourishment in these times of uncertainty. I savored his taste, and moreover I cherished being needed like this, our mouths melting into a single, delectable alloy, and my thoughts of layoffs, the office, or work the next day all fluttering away into the ether of nighttime. How could anything possibly wrong happen when I was experiencing such splendid sensations as these?