“... looked great up there.” This blonde bitch's lips are moving and her eyes are on my man. I'm no slouch, I learned how to fight from my degenerate big brother, and he's a golden gloves champ. I could just hit her and she'd be down on the ground crying or blacked out. But again—better to wait for the right moment.
“Yeah, no doubt!” I put on my best friendly smile and let all the girls see me flash it at Jack.
The music is loud and even though I'm standing close by and listening carefully for one of them to slip up and say something stupid enough for me to jump on—without seeming like I was picking a fight, of course—I couldn't hear most of what they said. I got the gist of it, though.
The usual bullshit girls say when they're going off to college, about how the world is a big open place for them, and so inspiration. I know where most of them will be every night, at parties like this one spreading their legs for any guy who happened to give them the right look when they were the right amount of hammered.
Jack says nothing. He plays it cool, like he always does. Finally I just get sick of listening to them and pull Jack out onto the dance floor. The ignorant bitches follow us, each of them grinding on him, on me, on whoever they could find to look sexier. One of them touched my breasts and that's where I made my move.
“Don't touch me, you slut!”
The redhead who was quiet the whole time, almost like she had been waiting for something too, gets in my face. She's so tall that she has to lean down to yell over the music.
“It was an accident, dumb-shit! Who the hell would want to touch you?”
“What did you say to me?” I shout, pushing her. She pushes me back.
“You fucking heard me, cunt. You heard me!”
At this point I look around the room and realize that now isn't the time. She's completely fucked up my mood and Jack has backed away. I throw her a dirty look before slinking through the crowd and grabbing myself another cup of beer. I walk out, angrier at having been shown up than over any lost chances with some fucking boy. How dare she?
I'm halfway to my car when I realize that I'm too drunk to drive, and my girl is too pretty to wreck. It's hardly much to pay and I don't want to worry about the car. Not like the redhead slut is going to touch it. What is her name? I know she was in one of my classes... was it Calculus?
Ah. She's Jessica.
No, she's too chicken to touch my car. I turn a corner, planning to wait in front of the hardware store for my ride. I feel a hand against my shoulder, strong and firm. It pulls me around.
“I wasn't fucking done with you, you piece of shit.”
I roll my eyes and flick my hair behind my shoulder. “Just let it go, it was just a stupid party anyway.” I turn back away and start walking. I can hear Jessica's voice behind me, deep and sharp, not slurred in the least. It's as if she hardly touched the beer.
“You better apologize for calling me a slut. Maybe I'll let it go if you sound sincere. Otherwise?” She takes a step closer to me, and I can practically feel the hate hitting me like a wave of heat. “I won't let it go, and I will make your life a fucking nightmare.”
I turn under the streetlight and shoot her my best angry look, but I know it doesn't compare to hers. “Or you'll what?” I hope I'm calling her bluff.
She comes at me low and fast, almost hitting me square in the chest with her shoulder. I try to move and it hits me on the arm, spinning me like a top. I drop into a fighting pose, though it's sloppy with my drunkenness. I'm ready to take her on, but she throws a wide punch that I wasn't expecting.
I put up my arms to block and throw a punch of my own, but it's lazy and weak. Too wide, too slow. I see her dodge it easily even in her high heel shoes. She moves almost in slow motion. I see every strand of fire-red hair moving as she ducks under, stepping inside my arms. I can see, clearly, that her hand is moving towards me. This must be what my brother means when he talks about being 'in the zone' or something. It's like being in one of those cheesy movies.
I dodge easily and try swinging back. Only, I can't move. I just watch as her fist travels slow but sure. My jaw explodes with pain. I'm falling, but it feels like my knees should have held me up. My skull cracked against the hard cement and the world around me goes wobbly. Jessica above me is now cloned three times and colored like a rainbow as she moves in a sickening way.
Clenching my eyes closed, I kick up and push her away. My hand fumbles around my head, looking for wet spots. Nothing. No red on my hands.
“You could have killed me, you bitch!” I lunge at her while the world recoils and dances around me. My hands wrap around her throat and pin her to the ground while she struggles beneath me. With my legs around her waist I let one of my hands pull back and ball into a fist. I hit her as hard as I can in my weakened state.
She screams against my punch and looks up to me with pure hate. She arches her back, trying to lift me off of her. When she realizes she cant, she spits into my face. Shrieking, I wipe the saliva away from my eyes and mouth.
She arches her back again. This time her belt nudges my clitoris. Even though I'm angry, I shudder and my eyes roll back a bit. I'm just distracted enough for her to flip me over and pin me to the ground on my stomach. She lays on top of me while holding my arms behind me. It's painful, but I can feel the heat of her cunt through our layers of clothes and the softness of her breasts pressing against my arm.
Jessica bends down until her mouth is just an inch from my ear. Her hot breath hits my face as she whispers, “I'll show you exactly what happens when you disrespect me, you whore.” Her knee slides up between my legs, resting exactly against my vagina. I wiggle, trying to escape, but it only manages to make my kitty cry out for more friction.
“Are you enjoying that?” Her knee presses harder against me. Jessica grabs my hair and pulls until my back is arched. “Answer me!”
“Ah, ow! Ow!” I cry, but she only tugs on my hair harder. “Yes! I like it!” I hump her knee more and let out a small, choked moan. She laughs one quick, angry laugh before throwing my head back down and letting my cheek hit the cement again. I'm no longer seeing the world in threes, but my head is killing me.
Jessica stands up. I try to get up too, thinking the fight is over now that she's asserted her dominance. Instead she stomps her stiletto boot heel against my back, forcing me back down with a gasp of pain. She uses the same foot to flip me over onto my back. “Stay on the ground, whore.”
“Please, Jess, I'm so sorry!” I cry, looking up at the cloudy sky.
“That doesn't matter. You still need to learn your lesson. Take off your shirt.”
I hesitate as an electric shock goes through my whole body. My teeth chatter. “What?” I ask, hoping I misheard.
“Take off your clothes, bitch!” The toe of her heel meets my ribs, bruising them badly.
Still laying on the ground, I unbutton my silk blouse and open it, revealing my bra. I look up and see that Jessica apparently approves. “You've got some nice tits for a little bitch. Take off your bra.”
I arch my back in order to reach my bra clasps while still on the ground. They come undone easily. My breasts, now under the influence of gravity, warp against my chest.
Jessica's shoe nudges my left breast, manipulating it painfully. “Such big tits. Stand up and let me see them better.”
Scrambling to my feet, I bashfully look at the floor. Jessica steps closer to me, and I instinctively step back until I'm pressed against the brick wall. My assailant grabs both of my breasts with her hands, squeezing them hard.
“That hurts...” I whine. Jessica's hand slaps my face, leaving a red and stinging mark against it.
“Don't you fucking whine to me. I'll do what I want. These are my tits right now!” Gripping them harder, she squeezes them until I'm whimpering in pain. She finally lets go and instead focuses on my nipples. She licks both of her thumbs, which then rub against my hard nubs.
I moan. The sound seems to soften her demeanor a bit. She presses me
against the wall and dips her face into my neck. She kisses it as she pinches my nipples. Her lipstick makes her kisses wet and soft.
In the heat of the moment, I do what comes naturally. I slide my hand against her mound, hoping that she'll approve. She doesn't slap my hand away or hit me, but she does bite my neck. It's not a hard bite, just hard enough to make me moan.
I pet Jessica's pussy until she's grinding against my hand. “Finger me,” she moans, the sexual sound sending another electric jolt through my body. Slipping my hand into her jeans, I rub the outside of her mound a little bit more before slipping a finger into her slit.
She's so wet! Sliding my finger from her clit to her hole, I get it nice and slick before using it to move her hard nub in fast circles. Her breathing becomes erratic, her kisses being replaced by moans.
“Ah! Ah, yes, like that!”
I keep moving my finger in circles. Jessica slips a hand down my jeans too and does the same to me. My head begins to swim, but in a good way this time. “You're so warm,” I say.
Jessica looks into my eyes. Hers are the most beautiful shade of green. I never really noticed them before, but they are truly stunning.
And then before I even know what's happening, her lips are against mine. Fiercely, angrily, she kisses me. I finally slip my finger into her hole, swirling it around in her hot depths. She keeps manipulating my clit while I slip a second finger into her. She moans into my mouth.
When she finally slips her finger into my cunt, I gasp loud. It feels so good! My fingers move faster in her hot box as she presses her digits against the top wall of my cunt. I can feel my climax building as we make out. Heat courses through my body. Jessica sucks on my bottom lip as her fingers slip in and out of me.
Oh, god. Oh god! My pussy clenches around Jessica's fingers and I shudder against her mouth. The world goes black. I can feel her sexy cunt contracting around my fingers, too, which heightens the climax. We both pull out mouths away and moan as our knees quake. She leans against me and I lean against the wall. We're both struggling to stay standing.
As her breathing slows, she pushes herself away from me. I feel a twinge of guilt as I let her walk away down the alley, leaving me alone to collect my thoughts on what just happened. I've never been interested in lesbian sex before but that... that was hot.
Before she hits the street, she turns back to me. Her eyes are wild but beautiful, the kind of eyes someone never forgets.
“I'll see you again.” That's all she leaves me with as her red hair disappears behind the brick wall.
Secret Agent's Escort
Espionage Erotica
Dalia Daudelin
When I was ten, my fifth-grade class had a big basketball tournament. Teams were inter-gender and randomly assigned.
My team lost in the second round. It was because I got fouled and it wasn’t called right near the end and don’t let anyone tell you different. I was complaining, pretty loud I’ll admit, and a girl from the other team, Miranda Kerr, came up and argued that if I weren’t such a baby I would’ve been able to deal with a little tap like that.
I got a little hot under the collar and before I had my head on straight our fists had set a date under the stands at the baseball diamond after school. She sent me home with a split lip, a black eye, and a lump on my head that smarted for a week.
I didn’t take it lightly. I went home that afternoon, broken and bloody, and didn’t even give my mother the time of day.
Rude, it was, downright rude. I went right upstairs, though, and started doing calisthenics.
PE had taught me at least some things about what you could do to get fit. I got a ride to the library--computers have made things so much nicer for researching the little things--and read for a solid few hours about getting in shape.
Even got out a book or two about tae kwon do. All my waking hours were spent working out. For almost two years.
Seventh grade came around, and the first day I called out Miranda Kerr and told her I wanted a rematch. She cocked her eyebrow and told me that she had tried to clean up her act, but she would make an exception to teach me a lesson again.
It was closer that time. It was. I don’t want to get into how much closer but I learned an important lesson, one of my three most used lessons, in fact.
It was “I’m not worth much in a fight.” The other two are “black shoes go with everything” and “A man can never have enough tan wool coats.” Following those three rules has got me pretty far.
I don’t want to make it sound like I never win anything. Won three spelling bees in elementary school. Turns out little kids can’t figure out how to spell ‘beauty.’
Who knew. But that’s kid stuff.
No, here’s one for you. Remember Miranda? Of course you do, I just mentioned her not five minutes ago. Well, we had another rematch in high school, senior year.
After the prom. It was a different kind of fight. Might call it a wrestling match. She pinned me, but I like to think I won in the end.
She told me to call her and I did. Too many guys think of it as a finish line, especially at that age. It’s even built into the old baseball metaphor.
You don’t keep rounding the bases after you hit a home run. Don’t even stay on home plate. You go back to the dugout until it’s time to go back up to bat. That point of view, the way I figure it, isn’t just sexist, it’s reactionary.
The woman is throwing pitches and you just hope to hell she throws one right up the middle that you can slap into the stands and hope you don’t get a phone call a few months down the road while your head’s in a toilet after a night of partying saying your home run paid off.
I haven’t always got the choice, but I like to be the one on the mound when I can be. A man sees a lot clearer when he’s in front.
But I’m sorry, I got sidetracked.
You asked me about how I got into the business. Of course. Well, I hadn’t much in the way of practical skills and I had too smart a mouth for most of the rat race so I used what I had. Figure that’s rational, in the long run, using what you have to get what you need.
And what I had was my head. Never had much use for figures or sciences, but since I’m not much in a fight, I learned to avoid them as best I can, and with my affection for pretty ladies, I got extra practice being well liked enough that my indiscretions were looked lightly upon by the right people.
So where does a young, charismatic dog like me go when he wants work?
Well, it turns out that there are plenty of men who make too much money not to be married, but make too much money to spend their time on something as ‘petty’ as another person’s needs. They need someone to keep their spouses entertained, out of the claws of another man--a man like me, as it happens. But when I’m on the job it’s another story.
No, it’s not a sex thing. I mean... sometimes it is, I’m not a saint, but as far as the man signing the checks is concerned, I mean.
He’s paying me specifically not to stick my nose into anything and to keep my eyes above shoulder level, and I’m smart enough to do my job when I’m going to get cooperation on it from the missus.
Truth is, they’re lonely most of the time anyways, they like having a man around who would notice if they kicked off.
I’d been on a cool deal like that for a few years when I had something a little unusual come through my door, a woman who wasn’t a trophy wife.
She sure damn well could’ve been, looked like Rita Hayworth on her best day. She was smoking, something you don’t see that often any more these days. She needed someone who cleaned up nice for a dinner party with her girlfriends, someone who would keep his mouth shut. I can do that when I’m told to.
But since most of my clients are contract-based, not one-time deals, I had to bring up the issue of payment up front. she’d pay... she hesitated.
I remember that real clearly. She’d pay, pause, part now, part later. The look she was giving me gave me some ideas what the front end of the bargain mig
ht be and I have to be honest as much faith as I have in myself girls like that aren’t falling into my arms now and they weren’t then either.
My office doubled as my living room and I can tell you we didn’t make it to the bedroom before she’d gotten my jacket off.
I felt her lips on mine, hot and soft and her body seemed to fit right against me like we were made for each other and something made me wonder how many other guys she was made for, too. I kept it to myself and let her bite my lip.
She tugged my hair real gentle, but enough to let me know she meant business. I smiled against her lips and tightened my arms around her. We stumbled onto a couch and I felt her ass in my hands, round and firm. In between kisses I told her I needed to lock the door and she finally let me go. I turned and stepped to the door, turned the lock with a heavy “thok.”
When I turned back around she was leaned over, unfastening her garter. I had a straight shot down her blouse and the view was gorgeous.
She looked up at me through thick lashes and undid a button on her blouse. I didn’t run but I haven’t walked that fast very often.
We spilled back onto the couch, my face nestled into her bosom, my hands fussing with buttons until I had her shirt off and she was in my lap, her skirt riding up her thighs and I pushed her brassiere up and took a nipple into my mouth hungrily.
I could feel hands on my shirt, unfastening the buttons, but it was all secondary to the salty taste of skin in my mouth.
I bit down and was satisfied by a gasp coming from the dame in my lap. She got my shirt open and held my head against her when I switched to the other breast. I felt her nipple stiffening in my mouth, and her hips rocked softly in my lap, only a few layers of fabric between us.
We held each other like that for a moment and then she pulled me away from her and stepped off my lap, got on her knees. I let her unzip my trousers and she reached inside and pulled my hardness out.
She looked at it for a moment affectionately, softly rubbing her hand up and down the shaft. I had high hopes for what was coming next and she didn’t disappoint, taking me into her mouth.
Nymphomania (Erotic Romance Bundle) Page 4