Extreme Passions

by Extreme Passions [Bold Strokes FF] (retail) (epub)

  “This is a very durable but flexible dildo called Blue Moon. If you need a harness...” Simply the effort of maintaining control of my voice leaves me breathless, and I pause to gather more oxygen.

  “Of course; would you mind recommending one?” Her gaze smolders meaningfully, and a flame ignites deep within my core.

  “Uh, yes, yes, I think I have one that will do nicely.”

  I walk down behind the counters to another display case and reach inside. Retracting a black leather and silver studded harness, I hold it up for her perusal.

  “This is called, um, In the Saddle,” I say as I blush a ferocious shade of crimson.

  She smiles appreciatively, taking the harness from my hands. Her fingers brush my wrist, and a tingle numbs its way up my arm.

  “I’d like to try it on.”

  “Certainly, right this way.”

  I lead her to a dressing room in the rear of the shop and pull the curtain aside. I put the dildo on a wooden shelf in the room and prepare to exit, but she grabs hold of my arm.

  “Wait. I’m not quite sure how this works. Would you show me how to put this on, please?”

  Oh God.

  The room tilts slightly, and it takes all the control I possess to keep my body from trembling uncontrollably. I gather the harness from her outstretched hands and clumsily fumble with the clasps, my hands shaking violently. As I squat down prior to asking her to step into the loops, I come face-to-face with the apex of her legs.

  “Don’t you think I should remove my jeans for a better fit?”

  I glance up from my subordinate position and she gazes down at me with what looks like a trace of amusement in her eyes. I do not feel in the least bit witty and clever. Attempting to laugh dismissively, I instead manage a choked gurgle. I stand up to the sounds of soft popping as she unbuttons her fly. She slides her tight-fitting jeans down her thighs, wiggling slightly to loosen them on their journey south. I avert my gaze, finding an all-absorbing interest in the fabric of the curtain. Once she has stepped out of her pants, I again lower myself to assist her in stepping into the harness. She reaches out to place a hand on my shoulder to steady herself, inserting first one foot and then the other. I rise up, reverently slipping the leather straps up her calves and then her thighs until I approach her waist. She hands me the dildo and I insert it into the metal ring at her crotch, then buckle the clasps. Once in place, Blue Moon rebounds upward in proud display of its magnificent size and power. She grabs hold of it, adjusting it comfortably, and then slowly begins to stroke it. I hear myself whimper and I lick my lips profusely.

  “Kiss it,” she whispers suggestively.

  Placing her hand back on my shoulder, she forces me to my knees until I am once again at the locus of my fantasies. I am overcome with heat and wetness until I feel myself growing faint. Is this really happening to me—is she really here with me now, or will I awaken from this dream as well? Tentatively, I place my lips on the head of the cock, kissing the tip of it briefly while she watches hungrily. She moans as I reach up and give it a gentle tug. Realizing its effect on her, I take a firm grasp and push and pull on it, grinding gently into her until her hips rock back and forth in response.

  “God, yes...” she pants, pressing more vigorously.

  Slowly I ascend, still holding the toy securely, and kiss her roughly. She thrusts her tongue inside my mouth, probing and sucking until I gasp for air. I let go of the dildo long enough to attack the buttons on her blouse, yanking it down off her shoulders and freeing her arms from the sleeves. She is not wearing a bra, and her nipples pucker at the exposure to the cool air in the room. I warm them with my tongue, coaxing them into hard, rigid pebbles, and nip at them in rhythm with the tug on Blue Moon.

  “Oh, baby, that feels so good,” she groans. “Pull your pants down now. I want you to feel me inside you. I need to fuck you.”

  “Oh jeez.” Just the sound of her voice makes me wet, and to hear her say the words I have longed for makes me crazy with lust. I have heard her while awake and in the darkest depths of my dreams. It is exactly as I had imagined, and even the reality of it has not altered its impact. Quickly I strip down to nothing and she propels me against the full-length mirror in the dressing room. My hands are planted high up on the mirror and she kicks apart my feet so that I am spread out and exposed. She leans forward into me, her breasts flattening against my back, her fingertips digging into my hips and the silicone cock bouncing erotically between my thighs. She guides it over me, coating it with the copious wetness she finds waiting there, preparing it for its inevitable entry.

  “Do you want this, baby?” she purrs softly, and the sound thrums throughout my body.

  “Yes, please, I want it, I want you!” I sound desperate, and I am.

  “Okay, don’t worry now; I’m going to make you feel so nice. I promise I’ll be gentle...so gentle, baby.” She coos these last few words and strokes my ass with one hand, the other reaching down to grasp Blue Moon, inserting the head inside me.

  It enters me easily; I am so ready. Ever so minutely, she goes deeper until I realize I have taken as much as I can, which is almost all of it.

  “Oh, yeah...that’s it, that’s it right there, oh God, yes.” I collapse onto the glass, my forehead resting on the cool surface. Instantly it too becomes heated, a small area fogging up in front of me. I open my eyes and glimpse her reflection. Her eyes are closed, her head tilted upward and her mouth slightly agape in ecstasy. She is so beautiful. Barely able to keep my own eyes open, I cannot help but watch her as she glides in and out of me. As she picks up the pace, pumping faster and faster, I hang on to the wall, knowing without question that I will come. The sound of her moans intermingled with my own enhances the moment and I let myself go. Every synapse in my body fires, the fallout radiating outward to the tips of all my extremities so that surely she must feel me as well. She slows her pace until the thrusting ceases altogether. After a few minutes’ rest, she removes herself from inside me. It is all I can do to remain standing, and I allow myself time to regulate my breathing and gather myself for what comes next.

  She sits on the cushioned bench in the dressing room and unbuckles the straps, removing the harness and Blue Moon, along with her panties. Just the sight of her arouses me to new heights and I freefall helplessly at her feet. With both hands, she spreads herself wide in anticipation.

  “Lick me now, I need your tongue on my clit. Hurry!”

  Before I touch her, I root around in my jeans pocket until I find what I am searching for. Fitting the sleek chrome device onto my tongue, I turn it on and it begins to vibrate. I extend my tongue into the warm, soft wetness that is all woman and suck gently on her clit. When I look up, her eyes are wide with surprise. Taking hold of my head with both hands, she moves me around in a semicircular motion, indicating where her need is greatest, and I willingly comply.

  “Ohh...uhh...mmm...” she moans and grunts incoherently.

  Reaching up, I replace her hands with my own, spreading her lips wider and giving me greater access to every sweet, secret corner of her vagina. The vibrator on my tongue tickles me slightly, so I can only imagine what it is doing to her. I tease, suck, and lick from one end of her to the other, forcing my tongue up and inside her as far as I can reach and the instrument will allow. She cries out and rocks forward onto my mouth, nose, and chin and I am fairly coated with her juices. The muted buzz of the vibrator is almost silenced as she wraps her long legs over my shoulders and down my back, and I hold my tongue still, letting the vibrator do its thing. I glance up to see how she’s doing and I get hard all over again when I see her stroking both of her nipples with her hands. Every part of her seems to be moving faster and faster and she reaches one finger up to her mouth and sucks it. Removing the slick digit, she applies it to her breast and rubs furiously on her nipple.

  “Oh, Jesus, that’s fantastic!” She is gulping for air, the tension in her body taking all her energy. “Lick me lower...yeah, oh yeah...now higher
...Oh, Jesus...I’m gonna come.”

  My tongue obeys her every wish, moving first lower and then higher, until I can feel her body vibrate despite the buzzing of the vibrator. She is oh so wet and I swallow her come as it covers my lips and tongue.

  “Please...go inside...fuck me now...”

  We are joined together in this way, I wish for eternity. I would be forever perfectly content to hold her silky center in my mouth and thrust inside her, and for a fleeting instant I am once again transported to my fantasy world. But I am brought abruptly out of my reverie by the electric jolt of her body accompanied by a high-pitched wail. Her body stiffens and she grabs hold of my head to still my movement. She jerks hard once, and then with successive convulsions, and it is over all too soon.

  The dread of her departure looms like an impending dark cloud on my horizon, and as if to confirm my fears, she disentangles herself from me and leans down for a sweet, almost chaste kiss. While executing the necessary requirements, it held no promise of tomorrows yet to come.

  “That was amazing,” she said, pointing to the small metal vibrator in my hand. “What is it called?”

  “Tongue-tied,” I respond.

  “Hmm, well, I think I’ll take that, and the other things as well.”

  Desire is a harsh and cruel master. An instant conflagration, it dissipates only when the object itself is consumed. And even then, like a powerful drug, it leaves one desperately craving more. I never saw her again, and I never completely overcame my wish to be intimate with her once more. But my fantasies were now based in reality and my nights were spent in self-immolation designed to rekindle the memories of that one unforgettable day.

  Inferno I: Fire Woman

  Nell Stark

  Love isn’t safe, and it’s not something you can tame.

  The Bible claims love can bear, believe, and endure all things, and I sure hope it’s right about that; I have a feeling that life’s still got a lot of curveballs to chuck in my direction. Thing is, what the Good Book should have said but didn’t, what it should have warned us all about, is that love isn’t just patient and kind—it’s also fire. It can warm or consume you, kill you or save you, thaw you out or leave a scar. Comes in lots of flavors, too—cheerful orange or smoldering red, blue as the summer sky or white as a straitjacket. Flick of a match or a hydrogen bomb—love is fire.

  Or at least, that’s what I was thinking as I stood with my back to the door, facing the large window that looked out over a beach of pristine white sand, the neon ocean beyond so brilliantly teal it almost hurt my eyes. But today wasn’t a day for the water—not for me, anyway. My buddy Jules and I had decided that dammit, we weren’t going to leave Hawaii without getting up close and personal with a volcano, and so we’d booked ourselves on a walking tour of Kilauea. Don’t wear open-toed shoes, the brochure had said. Bring sunscreen. And a hat. Our partners thought we were certifiable for wanting to traipse around brand-new lava flows; they’d already gone off into town to do their own thing. Which left Jules and me. And the fire.

  Now, see, Jules and I are careful. Despite the fact that we live in the same city, we’ve rarely been in the same room alone together. Only once, actually, and that was the first time we met—I’d been standing much like I was right now, only I’d been looking at an ancient suit of armor inside a glass case instead of out at the ocean and then she’d stepped up next to me and our shoulders had brushed and we’d started talking like old friends. Hell, I believed in karma—maybe we were old friends.

  I shook my head. Who the fuck was I kidding—if Jules and I had been anything to each other in a past life, we’d been lovers, which would be the (very, very nonverbalized) reason why we don’t hang out much when our wives aren’t around—though we do talk on the phone a bunch. Double dates are our thing, and that’s partly why my partner and I set up this whole Hawaii vacation deal with Jules and Elaine. It’s been really great, relaxing fun on the one hand, but it’s also been rough ’cuz I’m not used to seeing her—Jules, I mean—every day of the week. Not used to catching a glimpse of her in the morning when she’s still a little rumpled, or watching her blaze a path through the ocean during an afternoon swim. Not used to spending nearly all day, every day with her—cracking jokes, sharing stories, simply being.

  It’s draining, because of how I love her. And I do—there’s no getting around that and I’d never deny it, not really. Don’t get me wrong—I’m not in love with her. That tiny preposition is reserved for one person only for all eternity—Mara, who wears a ring I made with my own hands. But there’s more than one kind of love, see—there might even be infinite kinds—and the version I feel for Jules...well, it’s an orangey red kind of a fire that periodically crackles into whiteness. I love her gentle soul and her sharp mind and her occasional klutziness; I love how she worries about me, and how hard it is for her to tell a lie. We’re just...connected. We share a lot of interests. We laugh a lot, on the phone. She hurts when I hurt, and I can tell immediately when something’s weighing heavy on her mind. I’m telling you, it’s karma. Or kismet. Or fate. Whatever you want to call it, it’s deep and it’s true and it’s real...and it fuckin’ drives me nuts sometimes.

  Oh yeah, and we’re both happily married to remarkable women who we’d never ever want to hurt ever in the world ever, amen.

  That doesn’t stop the fire, though. And not just the love-fire either; I want this woman. “Want” as in naked beneath me, her body shivering from love and fear and nerves as I map out the gentle curves and muscular ridges of her with consummate han—

  A light knock at the door.

  “It’s open,” I called, and heard the creak of the hinges as it swung inward.

  “Hey, Gwen,” Jules greeted me, her voice eager. I turned enough to watch as she poked her head into the room, eyes roaming back and forth, one strong arm wrapped around the door frame. My body throbbed. Her feet did not cross the threshold. “You ready to go?”

  “Just finished signing my last will and testament,” I joked in reply. “In case we fall into the fiery abyss.”

  Low, alto laughter. She didn’t realize it was sexy, but it was. Very. Would she give me control, or would I have to take it? Would she taste musky or sweet? Would she welcome me inside her body? Would I be able to make her come, over and over and over?

  “Think we’re crazy for doing this?” she asked lightly.

  I grinned and nodded, then turned back to my contemplation of the point where the sky and water met. The tide—the tide pulling my blood, raising, driving it. Out of my power, out of my mind.

  “Why don’t you come in?” I asked after a moment. A warm, salt-scented breeze rattled the palm trees outside the hotel window and ruffled the wavy ends of my hair.

  “Uh...”

  Perhaps, despite her professed naiveté, she could hear the invitation in my words, because her voice was uncertain. I took the opportunity to stretch languorously, to raise my arms above my head and arch my back. My T-shirt rode up a little, exposing a narrow strip of tan skin. “It’s okay,” I told her, spinning completely around to rest my butt against the window ledge. “It’s all right. Come on.”

  Gravity. The attractive force between every single body in the universe. A falling together, an exchange of invisible particles. Mine were almost a decade older—older and stronger—and I pulled her into my orbit with ease. She left the door cracked slightly and stepped into the middle of the room.

  I grinned a little. She swallowed audibly. “Um, ‘kay, so...what’s up?” Trying to be nonchalant, to be cool, and failing. I loved her for it, I really did.

  I walked past her to push the door all the way closed, and then I threw the deadbolt. When I turned around, her eyes were tracking my every movement. They were wide, and dark.

  “Do you still love me?” I asked quietly, leaning back against the solid wood. No segue, no transition—just the naked, honest question.

  A beat of silence.

  “You know I do,” she whispered, loo
king first at my face, then down at my bare feet. “That hasn’t changed.”

  I smiled and moved toward her slowly. Her gaze remained glued to my toes until I stood close enough to reach out and cup her chin with three fingers. Gently, I tilted her head back until her eyes met mine. “Do you still want me?”

  She swallowed again as she blinked, and I watched her mouth curve into an anxious frown. “Yes,” she murmured miserably. “Sometimes I think...sometimes I think it’s gone away, but it always—”

  I stopped her mea culpas with a kiss. Our very first—my mouth soft and firm, moving over hers, molding and guiding the gentle slide of our lips and tongues. She tasted like the ocean she had just swum in and something else—something sweet above the salt, like pretzels covered in chocolate. And then, abruptly, she pulled away—stumbling back a few feet to hug herself and shiver and take deep, shuddering breaths.

  Her face was a study in fear, and I almost laughed. Her fault. She thinks it’s her fault. “I’m tired of this,” I said out loud. “Tired of not knowing what you feel like.” I raised my hands in front of my chest, palms up. “Walk away if you want. Or stay, and be with me. Once.”

  She had always been transparent, and I could see the debate flicker around the corners of her silently working mouth. “You said,” she finally managed to croak, “you said we could never—”

  “I changed my mind.” I took a step toward her, tilted my head, and smiled in the way I knew would crumble her resistance. “Just once. Not ever again, and they can never know.”

  Her eyes were chameleon, green-brown to brown-green and back again. I took another step. Heat rippled deep in my body, swirling like the colors of her irises, rising like magma—pushing, driving, crumbling my scruples into ash. I moved back into her space and she blinked, long and slow.

  “Yes.” The most beautiful word known to human beings. Have you ever watched a woman say it? The slight parting of her lips, the pure gleam of white teeth, the brief undulation of her tongue. Yes.