Anya lay down next to me and, while circling one finger around my belly button, allowed me to enjoy the show of Rita undressing herself. The spectacle wasn’t in the way she did it, slowly and totally aware of the effect she had on me, but more in how she held my gaze throughout it. The intensity brimming in her eyes left me panting underneath Anya’s tickles. Her glance skimming over my bare skin was plenty of incentive for my clit to swell beneath the flimsy fabric of my panties.
As soon as Rita was undressed she hopped on the bed and pressed her body against my side.
“Let me prove to you once and for all”—Rita looked me square in the face—“that three pairs of hands are so much better than two.”
Anya’s circling motions traveled up to my chest, while Rita started stroking my inner thighs. She might have had a point.
Their lips found each other over my head and, instead of jealousy, bursts of sweltering lust rushed through me.
Anya, on my left, pinched my nipple hard as Rita, on my right, trailed the top of her finger over the crotch of my panties. They broke their lip-lock to bestow all of their attention on me, and yes, it felt as if I were being fondled by a million hands at the same time. Fingers were everywhere. A frenzy of pecks, lingering tongues and thrilling pinches descended on me.
Rita dragged my panties off me and my swollen pussy lips pulsed for her. Anya let a fingertip skate over my hard nipples while driving her tongue deep into my mouth. Instinctively, I spread my legs for Rita. I was so hot for her, so ready. The club, the cab ride, the little show—rehearsed lines and all—they had put on for me, it was all foreplay and I didn’t need any more gentle coaxing. Juices oozed out of me as my clit throbbed to the quickening beat of my heart.
Anya moved the action of her mouth to my breasts and sucked a nipple between her lips. Rita trailed a finger through my wetness and I shivered in my skin. My muscles trembled and I pushed myself up to meet her, eager for her to enter. Her lips parted slightly as she slipped a finger inside.
“Oh god,” I moaned, because Rita’s finger inside of me was all I ever wanted. She soon added a second one, while Anya nibbled on my nipples, her hands kneading and her teeth grazing.
With her free hand, Rita pulled the skin away from my clit, exposing it to the musky bedroom air. She didn’t touch it; she just watched it as my juices gathered in the palm of her hand.
“Ready?” she asked, a surprisingly solemn expression on her face.
“Oh,” I hissed in reply, no longer able to form words. I knew what she meant though, and my skin flared with anticipation. I was lost beneath their hands and tongues. A willing victim of their double act.
Rita curled her fingers inside of me and found the spot. The one, somehow, only she could reach. In response, I arched my back, my muscles stiffening. Anya’s hand and lips kept arousing me, propelling me to new heights. Rita’s fingers pushed inside, circling, curling, bringing me to the brink.
I found Rita’s eyes and drank in her desire, because in that moment, she was mine. Or I was hers—again. All signs of irony had left her face. She pinned her gaze on me while her fingers touched me inside, the intent of them displayed in the twitch of her lips. Witnessing how Rita wanted me was all I ever needed. It wasn’t a magical spot inside of me yearning to be stroked; it was the passion in her eyes and how it connected with every fiber of my being.
It started in my belly, a wildfire spreading through my flesh, seizing me. My pussy tingled and my nipples reached up. Flames tickled my skin. Desire burned through my bones.
I cried out as I came, fingers on my nipples and in my cunt. The climax echoed through me, bouncing through my body, again and again. I clenched the walls of my pussy around Rita’s fingers, as though I never wanted to let her go again, before collapsing into the mattress, spent and voiceless.
Rita gently slid out her fingers, dragging them along my belly, coating my skin in my own wetness, and kissed me on the mouth.
“I told you,” she said.
Anya kissed my left cheek and Rita pressed her lips against my right cheekbone.
I curved my arms around the pair of them before turning my face to Rita. “Lesson learned.”
BLUE BALLS
Kissa Starling
A shrill ring trilled when he walked through the door. No light showed past the heavy tapestries hanging from the walls. Knickknacks littered the shelves. A fountain, directly in front of the door, cycled water around. Sandalwood incense rose to form layers of smoke. Gus took short, hesitant steps into the store.
Thick carpet muffled the storekeeper’s approach.
For the tenth time since walking across the parking lot he wondered about taking advice from his friend Gary. He’d almost decided to leave when a voice boomed in his direction.
“May I help you?” The massive-bosomed woman leaned close, draping a purple scarf across her face. “Are you here for a reading perhaps?” Red paint covered her bulbous lips. Her long nails scraped along his forearm. “Looking for love or money?”
Gus backed away, stammering. “I’m not sure.”
“Of course you’re not. You’re tired of the time dating takes away from your work. And you despise women who sleep over. You don’t like to share your money…with anyone.” She produced a fan from beneath her girth, moving it back and forth in front of her sweaty face.
“Actually, that is true. I’m focusing on my career right now. There are things I want in life and women don’t factor into that.” He couldn’t believe he’d said it out loud. His Jewish mother would gasp.
“So what’s the problem, dearie? Work twenty-four hours a day and make tons of money. Happy Gus, right?” Her fan disappeared. Gus noticed a sort of jeweled bracelet attached to her foot when she hefted her body behind the counter.
He puffed up, puzzled. “How do you know my name?”
“Does it really matter?” It was a rhetorical question he guessed, since she bent down to search for something, ignoring his words. “I have what you want. Just have to find it.” Several items fell to the floor during her search. She moved boxes and broke a glass owl.
“This is a mistake. Thanks anyway.” Gus hurried to the exit. He pushed the swinging door open….
“Found it.”
Gus shut his eyes, dueling with his conscience. This lady is crazy, but it will only take a minute to see what she’s got. I can’t imagine it being something I want. Decision made, he turned, letting the door shut on itself.
The gypsy woman held something in her hand. Gus squinted, sizing up the small box she held in her open palm. “As I said, nothing you need or should even have, but I believe you want it. All the workaholics want it.”
She dumped it into his hand when he reached the counter. The wooden box had symbols scratched into it. “Do you know what these mean?”
“I don’t. That box was here when I bought the place.” She rapped fingernails on the glass next to the register. Without asking if he wanted it, she rang the purchase up. “Three hundred dollars.” Her empty palm waited.
“For this?” Gus contemplated handing the box back, but changed his mind at the last second. “Here.” He handed her his credit card. Three minutes later he was the proud owner of a wooden box that he hadn’t even opened. He rushed for the door and this time had no difficulty exiting the establishment.
Fresh air replaced stale air in the parking lot. Gus took a deep breath and then jumped into his car, starting it and peeling away on the road toward home without fastening his seat belt. He flung the small wooden box onto the passenger seat. One mile later, at a red light, he retrieved the box and opened it. A set of blue balls, connected in the middle, had a number etched on the wooden handle: 100.
Gus opened the box to throw the strange item back in, touching opposite ends as he did. Two things happened: His dick hardened, and it began pulsating on its own. He gripped the steering wheel, smiling at the lady in the car next to him. His whole body tightened and cum soaked through his pant leg and onto his car seat.
“What the hell was that?” Gus picked the blue balls up with his thumb and forefinger, dropping them back in the box. The number now read 99.
“Damn. That may be the best three hundred dollars I’ve ever spent. I didn’t have to take time for dinner, idle chat or flirting.” Gus closed the box and stuffed it into his glove box right when the light turned green. That night he dreamed of naked ladies in every shape and size. Some were light skinned and others were dark, but they were all nude and holding their arms out to him. Funny, since he didn’t need women at all anymore. No more spending money on dinner just to be disappointed. No more casual conversations over topics he cared nothing about. He had a sure thing, halleluiah.
The next morning Gus woke with a smile. He dressed, dashed to work and entered the office before anyone else. His computer powered up while he poured his own coffee. Stock tips were soon displayed in multiple windows on his PC.
“Good morning, Mr. Rickman.” His secretary, Suzie, stood by her desk, with her huge smile and dimples, same as every other morning. Her disposition irked him.
Gus didn’t acknowledge her greeting but ran past her yelling, “Hold the elevator.” Steel doors opened to dump out commuters and he slipped inside. When the elevator reached the parking level, Gus was the first one out, and he sprinted back to his car. Two clicks, a beep and his door unlocked.
He removed the wooden box and tucked it into his jacket pocket. Since everyone else had taken an earlier elevator up, he made this trip alone. His gaze wandered back and forth; he covered the camera with his jacket. The box flipped open and he held the blue balls in his hand, opposite ends simultaneously. A tingling began at his feet and traveled through his body. Gus jumped to take the handkerchief from his suit pocket, and unzipped his trousers. He squeezed his buttocks together. The energy surged to his dick and exploded. Cum squirted into the ready cloth. “Ahhh, I needed that.” Gus zipped his pants and tucked his shirt back in before the doors opened. He even remembered to take his jacket down and slip it on while making his way back to his office.
“Do you need anything, Mr. Rickman?” There she was again, always so damn nice.
“No, Suzie, I don’t.” He dropped the soiled cloth into the wastebasket on the way past.
Gus made two high-profile deals, no problem, but it took him an hour. He glanced at his watch repeatedly. “I’m taking an early lunch, Suzie. I’ll be back by two o’clock.”
“But, sir. It’s only nine in the morning. I have these folders for you to look over.” She stood there, waiting, as if she had power over him. No woman had power over him.
“It’s a working lunch. Set the folders on my desk.”
“Would you like for me to hold that box at my desk while you’re gone?” Her cheery simpleton eyes gazed at him from behind rhinestone glasses.
“No!” he shouted, not bothering to apologize on the way out. She gasped, holding her hand to her throat in shock.
Gus stopped for a short time in the men’s restroom to touch the balls and stock up on paper towels. That was the first time he came from anal stimulation. Those balls knew no bounds where kink was concerned. He flipped his arm over ten times looking at his watch in the elevator. Only one orgasm proved to be possible in the parking deck because the part-timers were commuting in. The number changed to 93 as he slid into the driver’s seat. Nine miles to his apartment building and he drove like a crazed person the whole way. Every time he attempted to take out the blue balls a policeman pulled up behind or beside his car. Damn.
He ran up the stairs to his apartment, flinging the door open and fumbling with the wooden box because his hands were shaking. 86.
Twelve orgasms later, Gus collapsed on his couch, naked. Life is good. He fell asleep. Women with three tits and two pussies invaded his dreams. He shunned all of them. “I don’t need you,” he shouted. “I have blue balls.” One sweet girl-next-door approached him, but he flipped her the bird. “I have what I want.”
Sun streamed through the patio door. He’d forgotten to shut the drapes. That meant his neighbors could see inside, but Gus didn’t care. He reached for the balls; always back in the box when he needed them. His nipples poked out while his dick lengthened. “Yeah, baby. Give it to me.” He paused for half a second. Did I just talk dirty to an inanimate object? A hard grasp took his dick, milking it. Oh, so warm and nice. Cum spread across his belly. 64.
Gus turned the television on right before the phone rang.
“Mr. Rickman?” That sweet sickening voice again.
“Yes, Suzie. What is it? I’m busy.” Gus reached for the blue balls while still on the phone.
“Well, sir. You never came back after your long lunch and I just wondered if you’re planning on coming in today?” She hesitated after enunciating today with the tip of her tongue. He could hear the snobby tone of her voice. How annoying.
“I’m sick, Suzie. Have you ever known me to miss a day of work?” His voice got gruff as his dick rubbed against the rough fabric of the sofa. He threw in a few loud coughs.
“No. Of course not, sir. I do hope you feel better. Should I bring you soup or tissues?”
Gus screamed into the phone, “No,” and hung up. That orgasm brought him down to 47.
Three days later, hungry and dehydrated, Gus ordered pizza. He happened to be in the middle of an orgasm when the deliveryman got there.
Knock, knock.
“Hello, is anyone home?”
The pimply teen took the pie and walked back to his car before Gus could get to the door, another opportunity missed.
Lack of food had drained him. He attempted to crawl to the door, but didn’t make it before the driver was gone. Gus looked at the broken phone. He’d thrown it across the room the last time Suzie called. The mirror it hit lay on the floor in front of him. Luckily it hadn’t broken. He didn’t need seven years of bad luck. In it he saw a reflection of the blue balls, which lay in the box on the end table. 11.
A week later he dared to look into the mirror. An old man looked back at him. Stubble had grown into a short, scraggly beard. Red eyes drooped from lack of sleep. His teeth had yellow goo on them. Gus disgusted himself. The dropping number scared him. How will I have sex without it?
Gus ate cold soup from a can to replenish his energy. He drank sour milk, spitting it up and remembering he hadn’t shopped in days. Dressing was a cumbersome chore. He refused to put the blue balls down. They felt comfortable in the palm of his right hand. It took everything he had left in him to make it to the car, but he did and he drove straight to the gypsy’s shop without stopping. 1.
The most extreme orgasm he’d ever experienced hit while he was walking through the door, as the bell rang. He clung to the door frame, convulsing with pleasure. He hadn’t meant to touch them. Smooth wood replaced the number etching and the blue balls were now a pinkish color.
Behind the counter the gypsy stood fiddling with her merchandise. He collapsed, chest on the counter. “Fix it. You have to make it work.” He offered her the wooden box. “Please.”
She used her gargantuan hands to open his precious box. “It’s empty, sir. Were you looking for a charm or good luck piece to fit in here? I have some very nice talismans.”
“No! I want the blue balls back and I want them now.” The few other customers rushed out the door.
“I’m sorry, sir, about your, um, blue ball situation, but we don’t carry sex toys here.” The old biddy turned her nose up and began dusting the glass case.
“You sold me this. I want another one. Do you have another wooden box under the counter? I’ll pay whatever you ask.” Gus wept, begging her to acknowledge him.
“Oh, you want one of my wooden boxes. Why didn’t you just say so?” Her dangly earrings made music as she bent to retrieve a wooden box much like the first one. Relief gushed through him.
“That will be one thousand dollars.” She held out her palm, waiting. Gus paid without protest and ran to his car, box in hand.
He made hi
mself wait until he got home to open the wooden box. This meant 100 more chances and he wouldn’t waste them as he had before. He’d schedule his orgasms this time. Heck, he would go out on dates and have real sex to prolong using his balls. It wasn’t like he didn’t know how to socialize when he needed to.
Plan made, Gus sat on the side of the bed, holding his most precious commodity. “I’ll just take a peek before I put it in the drawer.”
He opened the box and found…a fortune cookie. Puzzled, he cracked it open. Inside was a small slip of paper that read, Take her to dinner you dumb bastard!
Gus threw the fortune into the bedside table drawer and pulled out a little black book, rubbing his balls and then shifting them a bit. He dialed the first number on the page.
“Hello, Gina?”
BLAKE EATS OUT
Shoshanna Evers
Victoria was glad the restaurant was packed. It meant the food should be as good as the reviews claimed.
“Right this way,” the hostess said, leading her and Blake through a crowded path of tables situated too close together.
She’d wanted to fuck him before they went out, to sit on his face for a good hour or so and relax. But they’d made the reservations over a month ago, and places such as this one in Manhattan weren’t always easy to get into.
So she’d had to delay her sexual release—despite having him greet her at the door naked, kneeling, in his collar. A lovely sight to see after a long day of work…calling her authors, editing manuscripts, and meeting with one of her favorite literary agents for lunch.
There just hadn’t been enough time to use him the way he loved to be used—for her pleasure alone.
“May we have that booth in the back?” Victoria asked, and slid the hostess a tip before she could protest that the booth was meant for a larger party.
“Yes, ma’am, I think we can arrange that.” The hostess smiled and they followed.
Victoria wanted the seclusion of the leather-upholstered red circular booth, where she and her slave could enjoy themselves properly.
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