All Worked Up - 8 Tales Of Dirty Sex

by AE Publications

  Pretty soon I’m working her with three-quarters of my shaft in a good, steady rhythm. I’m leaning into her, my hands gripping the back of the couch for leverage.

  “Harder,” she says. “Fuck me harder. I can take it.”

  I fuck her with the whole length of my shaft, giving it to her balls deep, punctuating each thrust by holding my cock deep in her pussy for a heartbeat before pulling it back it to stick it in her again.

  “That’s what I’m talking about,” she says. “Give it to me deep. I want to feel every fucking inch of your cock. Treat me like a fucking slut.”

  I hammer my cock into her pussy a couple more times, making her whole body shake with every thrust, then hold it there, my cock deep inside her, my groin grinding up against her pussy lips.

  “That’s right,” she says. “Own it. Own that tight little fucking pussy.”

  I shift my legs a bit to give myself more leverage and push even harder, shoving my cock as deep as it will go. She lets out a little yelp—part pleasure, part pain—and pushes back against me, forcing me even deeper inside her, moving her hips up and down, riding my cock as her moans build in intensity and her breaths get shorter and shorter, finally culminating in a single high-pitched scream and rushing out of all her pent-up breath.

  I barely give her any time to recover before I’m grabbing her ankles and pushing them back towards her head, folding her in half. Holding her ankles up next to her head, I proceed to pound her pussy with reckless abandon, grunting with every thrust, fucking her with everything I’ve got. Her moans turn to groans and then to screams as she yells, “Yes! Yes! Fuck me! Fuck me! Fuck me!”

  I slam into her harder, crushing her, trying to break her in half. She’s holding her own legs back now, so I climb up onto the couch, giving myself even more leverage over her. I’m fucking her like a madman, slamming my cock as deep as it will go, my face right above hers. I’m staring down at her and she looks right back, holding my gaze, her eyes telling me that she hasn’t reached her limit yet, that she can take more.

  “Anything you want,” she says.

  “Anything?” I reply.

  “Anything,” she says. “I can take whatever you can dish out.”

  I decide to test her theory.

  I pull my cock out of her and reach down and pick her up. I spin her around so she’s upside down on the couch, her feet draped over the back of it, her head hanging off the front of it, near the floor. I climb off the couch and drop to my knees and slide up to her. I grab hold of her tits and stick my cock in her mouth and throat fuck her.

  I pump her mouth a few times, my balls slapping up against her face with every thrust, then hold it deep in her throat. I keep it there for a few seconds, until she starts to gag. I pull my cock out, let her catch her breath, then stick it back in. With my cock deep in her throat I slap her tits, once, twice, three times, each slap eliciting an involuntary gasp, allowing my cock in deeper every time. Again she coughs, then gags again, and I pull out to let her breathe, which she does in gasping breaths.

  I climb up onto the couch and straddle her chest, one knee on each side of her body, and sit down on her chest so my asshole is right above her mouth. I reach back and grab a handful of hair and lift her head up until her face up pressing up against my ass.

  A lightning bolt shoots up my body as she attacks my asshole, licking it around the edges, sucking on it, sticking her tongue in it. My body shivers and my own breath is getting more ragged.

  “Is that what you like?” she says when I release her head to give her a chance to breathe. “You like it when I lick your fucking asshole?”

  Instead of answering I just pull her head up again so she can do some more work on my asshole. I reach out and stick three fingers in her pussy and slam it as hard as I can, working it faster and faster. Every time I increase the pressure on her pussy, she does the same on my asshole, which leads to me increase my pressure again, and so forth. A veritable feedback loop of pleasure, with only one end in sight.

  But I’m not done with her yet, so I extract my fingers from her musky sweetness before I hit my exploding point.

  I stand up on top of the couch, grab her ankles, and lift her up until her head is lying on the couch cushion. Then I turn around and squat over her face and drop my balls into her mouth. She sucks on them, first one, then the other, then both at the same time, squeezing them into her pretty little mouth while I spank her face with my cock.

  Still sucking on my balls, she reaches up and starts jerking my cock. I lean back against her body and she wraps her legs around my head. I slap her tits a few more times, eliciting more gasps, then decide that it’s time to finish things.

  I climb on top of the cushions so her legs are in front of me, then I swing her legs over until her knees are pushing against the cushion, one on either side of her head, folding her in half. She wraps her arms around her legs, holding them in place. Her pussy is just below me, gaping and waiting. I sit on the back of the couch and spit on her pussy, work it a little with my fingers. I spank it with my cock. She yelps with every blow.

  “That’s right, make it wet,” she says. “Get it ready for your nice hard cock.”

  I guide my cock into her pussy then stand up and bend my knees to give me more leverage and start pumping her tiny little pussy.

  “Holy fuck,” she says. “It’s so fucking big. Fuck me with that big hard cock.”

  I spread her pussy with my hands and drop the hammer on her, giving her all my weight with every pump. Her tiny little body quivers with every thrust.

  “Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” she gasps as I pound her pussy. “Give it to me! Give it to me! Yes! Yes! Yes!”

  I pull my cock out of her pussy and step forward and bend down. I drop to my knees and stick my cock in her mouth and fuck her throat for a few seconds. Then I pull my cock out of her mouth and spank her face with it.

  “You like that?” I ask. “You like it when I slap your pretty little face with my cock?”

  “I fucking love it,” she says. “Do it harder.”

  I rear back and slap her again, harder this time.

  “Harder,” she says.

  So I do.

  “Harder!” she yells this time.

  I swing my cock with everything I’ve got, smacking her in the face, again and again and again until her cheeks are red.

  I could easily shoot my load right now but I want to experience that tight little pussy one more time, even though I know it’s going to be short-lived, so I climb back up and squat down. I grab her knees and spread them out, opening her pussy even more. I stick my cock into her one last time and fuck her with all the intensity I can muster, pounding her with the full length of my cock, allowing gravity to help get it deeper than ever before. Her tiny little body accepts all I have to offer.

  “It’s so big, it’s so big, it’s so big,” she squeals. “Break my fucking pussy. Break me in half. Make me your bitch,” she says. “Own that fucking pussy. Own me. Own me. I’m yours, baby, I’m yours.”

  Her talking puts me over the edge and my body tenses up. “Oh fuck,” I moan as I pull my cock out of her pussy.

  “Cum on my face, baby,” she says. “Make a mess of my pretty little face.”

  I drop to my knees and jerk my cock and shoot my load all over her, stream after stream of white cum splashing against her cheeks, her chin, into her open mouth, her left eye, her hair.

  “That’s right,” she says. “Give it to me, give me all of your cum.”

  “Holy shit,” I say, gasping for breath as the last of my cum dribbles out. She slides out from beneath me and lifts her head and grabs onto my cock and sucks on the end of it. I spasm once and try to jerk away but she holds on. There’s an evil twinkle in her eye.

  “I want it all,” she says. “Every last fucking drop.” Smiling, she takes my cock in her mouth and sucks on the tip one last time before mercifully letting me go.

  “Wow,” I say as I stand up on shaky legs and walk over towar
ds the fridge. “Thanks.”

  “My pleasure,” she says as she gathers her clothes and starts slipping them on.

  I open the fridge and say over my shoulder, “You want a beer?”

  “No thanks,” she says pleasantly, all traces of her earlier nastiness completely gone. “I’ve got another appointment I have to get to. So if you don’t mind . . .”

  I know exactly what she means. “Of course,” I say as I head over to the nightstand. I pop open my beer and take a drink, then open the drawer and pull out her money. I set the beer on the table and walk over to her and hand her the money. She grabs it and sticks it in the pocket of her shorts.

  “Do you want to hop in the shower?” I ask. “Clean yourself up a bit?”

  “I don’t have time,” she says. “Besides, the guy I’m going to see is a fan of sloppy seconds. He likes to lick other people’s cum of my face.”

  I grimace and she laughs at me.

  “Nah, I’m just messing with you,” she says with a smile.

  I shake my head and laugh softly. Now that’s something you don’t see everyday, an escort with a sense of humor, or at least not one that’s willing to share it with her clients.

  “I’ll clean up at his place,” she says. “He likes to watch me shower. Thanks for the offer though.”

  “No problem.”

  “Maybe I’ll see you again some time,” she says as she heads for the door.

  “Oh, I think you just might.”

  “Next time we’ll get really nasty,” she says.

  “Then I’ll make sure there’s a next time,” I say. “Someday at least. Just tell me who to ask for.”

  “Candy,” she says.

  “That should be easy enough to remember.”

  “That’s kind of the point.”

  “I’m sure it is,” I say as I open the door for her.

  Two sessions in a row I’ve asked for a name. I must be getting soft. But that’s all right. There’s nothing wrong with having favorites. That’s the beauty of escorts; you cast your line into the water and pull one up, and after a night of fucking you get to decide if they’re worth keeping or not. If they are, they make the list. If not, you throw them back and cast your line again. Luckily there’s an endless list of girls to choose from. And you get to keep as many as you want. Try an old favorite or take a shot with someone new. Not a bad choice to have. It sure as hell beats regular relationships. At least in my book.

  #####

  GETTING LAID ON VALENTINE’S DAY

  HOLIDAY HOOK-UP: VOLUME TWO

  JT HOLLAND

  It was almost 8PM on February 14th when there was a knock on Scott Thompson’s door. He was on his couch, eating pizza and watching BOOGIE NIGHTS, just as he had every year for the last five years on Valentine’s Day.

  He wasn’t expecting anyone; Scott rarely had visitors and they never came over unannounced. He just wasn’t that kind of kind guy and neither were any of his friends.

  He wondered who it was. A neighbor, maybe, looking to borrow some eggs? Or someone with the wrong condo? Either way he wasn’t real interested in answering the door. He’d rather just stay here on the couch and pretend like he wasn’t home.

  Then the knocking started again, more insistently this time, like the person on the other side of the door knew he was home. After another moment of hesitation Scott decided to be civil and see who was there. He paused the movie, climbed up off the couch and headed over to the door.

  He opened it without bothering to look through the peephole, and standing there, much to his surprise (which he was careful to keep off his face) was Whitney Taylor. She was dressed in a sleeveless white tee shirt that covered her legs nearly down to her knees. But not even the loose-fitting clothes could mask her rocking body; she could make painter’s overalls look good. And the lack of a bra didn’t hurt her cause either. Her long black hair was mussed and she was wearing very little makeup, both of which suited her just fine.

  “Hey there,” she said.

  “What’s up?” Scott said, playing it cool despite the butterflies in his stomach. They hadn’t done more than briefly exchange pleasantries since their crazy New Year’s Eve and he’d convinced himself that it had been just a one-night stand, never to be repeated again. Now he wasn’t so sure. But he didn’t want to jump to any conclusions and he certainly didn’t allow his hopes to get too high.

  “Not much,” Whitney replied. “I was just hanging out by myself tonight and figured you would be too, you know, based on your aversion to holidays.”

  “Well, you guessed right.”

  “So . . . are you going to invite me in?”

  “Sure,” he said. “Come on in.”

  Scott held the door open and Whitney walked past him. He watched her as he closed the door, slightly saddened to see that her ass was covered up by the T-shirt. At least her shapely legs were a nice consolation prize. She sat down on the lounge chair and folded her legs beneath her, revealing nothing but panties beneath her T-shirt.

  “You want something to drink?” he asked. “A beer? Some wine?”

  “No thanks,” she said. “I want to see how things go when we’re sober.”

  Before Scott had a chance to contemplate the meaning of this, Whitney had moved on.

  “Boogie Nights, huh?” she said, glancing towards the television. “Are you a P.T. Anderson fan?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Me too. You ever see There Will Be Blood?”

  “Only ten times,” Scott said as he sat down on the couch across from her. “It’s one of my 2 favorite movies of all-time.”

  “And the other one?”

  “No Country For Old Men.”

  “Ahh, the Coen Brothers. Good stuff, good stuff. I had no idea you had such good taste in movies. I should have known, though. You have good taste in everything.”

  Scott laughed softly. “Like you’d know.”

  “I know you have good taste in music,” Whitney said.

  “How do you know that?”

  “You were listening to The Mars Volta on New Year’s Eve.”

  “You remember that?”

  She tilted her head and flashed him a little smirk. “I remember everything about that night.”

  “Everything?”

  “Everything,” she said, raising her eyebrows a couple of times.

  Scott wasn’t sure what to make of this but he supposed it was a good thing. After all, if she had remembered everything and was coming back for more, that certainly couldn’t be bad.

  “But, back to your tastes,” she said. “We’ve got movies and music out the way—two of the most important ones, the way I see it—but it doesn’t stop there. I can see you have good taste in pizza. Round Table is my favorite. You have good taste in beer. Blue Moon on New Years. And wine too; I can see Silver Oak in your kitchen. And you certainly have good taste in women.”

  “Oh, I don’t know about that,” Scott said, laughing softly. “I’ve had some pretty shitty relationships in the past.”

  “I’m not talking about your past relationships. I’m talking about your present one.”

  “With who?”

  “Who do you think?” Whitney said.

  “You?”

  “No, the other girl in your living room.”

  “You call fucking two months ago and then not talking to each until right now a relationship?”

  “According to the strict definition, yes,” Whitney said. “Of course, it’s not a traditional relationship, but I was led to believe you weren’t a traditional type of guy.”

  “Fair enough,” Scott said. “So what kind of a relationship is it?”

  “The best kind,” she replied. “One where neither party has any commitment to the other. One where there’s no emotions involved, no messiness, no stupid shit. One that entails getting together every once in a while and fucking our brains out in crazy, filthy, animalistic ways, sometimes drunk, sometimes sober, sometimes high, depending on the day.”


  Scott looked at her for a moment. He had to admit, it sounded like the perfect setup. He certainly didn’t have any desire to be in a “normal” relationship; he just didn’t think he’d ever find himself in one like Whitney was spelling out.

  “And that’s the kind of relationship you’re looking for?” he asked.

  “I’m sure as hell not looking for love,” Whitney said. “Are you?”

  “Not at all.”

  “Then what do you say? Do you think you can handle just having meaningless, casual, incredibly nasty sex with me on a semi-regular basis without any threat of a deep emotional connection?”

  Scott pretended to think about it for a moment. “I think I could probably handle something like that.”

  Smiling, Whitney climbed up off the chair and started towards him. “Are you sure?”

  “Positive,” he said, looking up at her as she stopped right in front of him.

  “Good,” Whitney said. “Because I’m horny as hell.” She dropped to her knees and pushed his legs open and leaned in towards him and started undoing the button on his pants. Looking up at him with mock-innocence from down between his legs, she said, “You don’t mind, do you?”

  “Not at all,” Scott said, lifting his butt up off the couch so she could slip the pants off his legs. His dick was already starting to get hard. It wasn’t quite standing at attention yet but it was getting there.

  “Now that’s the Scott Taylor I remember from New Year’s Eve,” Whitney said, taking Scott’s cock in her hand and stroking it. “Such a nice big cock. Do you still remember what to do with it?”

  “Oh, I think I can figure it out.”

  Whitney laughed. “I’m sure you can.” She wrapped her lips around his cock and took it halfway down before popping it back out again. “With something this beautiful, I’m sure you’ve had lots of practice.”

  She went back to work on his cock, mixing it up like a pro, sucking on the tip while jerking him off, playing with his balls, and taking it nearly all the way down her throat while maintaining eye contact the entire time. It was an incredibly sloppy blowjob, with tons of spit; Whitney obviously knew what she was doing down there.