A GOOD STIFF ONE
Kathleen Bradean
He was already two knuckles deep into my cunt, so asking for his name seemed sort of pointless. That wasn’t the only thing we skipped. The time for polite chitchat was before I backed out of the crush of the party and into the spare bedroom with my fingers hooked into the belt loops of his jeans; before he shut the door and held me against it; before he pushed his thigh between mine and yanked my panties to the side.
All that civilized shit was stripped away before our clothes came off. It wasn’t the full beard or broad shoulders that made him resemble a crazed, sex-starved mountain man. He had that look in his eyes, that loss of focus, that grunting, monosyllabic eloquence that my pussy got drenched for. But if he was going all Neanderthal, I was right there with him. He banged my clit with his knuckles as he finger-fucked me. The slick, juicy, squishy sounds of each thrust were barely louder than the noise of the party on the other side of the door.
The room had a smell like no one had been in it for ages, or maybe that was the scent of the guests’ coats piled on the bed. Mine was one of them. I had no idea if he was one of the hosts or if his coat was in the mix of ski parkas and down-filled vests.
He pulled his fingers out of me and held them up. The room was instantly awash in pussy scent, overcoming the stink of stale linens. He grinned at the shine, laughed as the juice trickled down the back of his hand, then licked it while he stared at me.
My gaze was drawn over his shoulder to the fulllength mirror on a far door that probably led to a bathroom or a closet. Even with his massive chest and arms blocking most of my view, I could see too much of my face, so I stared at the curls of chest hair pouring over the top of the dusty green T-shirt that peeked out of the V-neck of his plaid flannel.
I teased his cock through his jeans. My manicure was probably flaking off as I scratched at the head of his cock and tried to pinch the end, but I wanted him crazed, so I kept at him until I saw a speck of wet.
A bubble of thick juice burst in slow motion and flooded my panties.
He glanced over his shoulder at the bed.
I fumbled with the doorknob that dug into my hip, found the lock, turned it.
He pressed his lips to my neck as I yanked on his zipper. My hand barely fit through his fly. God love a man who wears briefs. No fishing around in yards of material for his hard-on. Just push the waistband down to free that monster and guide it through the maze of the zipper’s metal teeth. Same with his balls: cup those heavy, hot things like fine china and draw them out of his pants. With one hand wrapped around his cock, I blindly groped through my shoulder bag for a condom. He panted as I rolled it on him.
Seeing as we were ignoring everything else, fuck foreplay. I wriggled from his hold and went to the bed. Facedown in the mink collar of someone’s coat, I lifted my skirt over my hips.
He shoved my panties down. Thick thumbs spread my pussy lips.
“Hard,” I said. No fucking around.
In the mirror, it looked as if I were inhaling the mink. I tried to push it down, but the hairs kept springing up. As much as I wanted to watch my face while I got fucked, I had to turn my head and got an earful of ruddy fur.
He shoved into me. There was nothing like the feel of a really hard cock muscling its way inside. It took every squeeze, amplified it and sent it hurtling back. So damn good, even though I knew he was going too deep. I’d hurt in the morning, but right then, it was wonderful.
I swayed a bit side to side.
He grunted appreciation for that little trick.
I tried to stand on my tiptoes. Then I tried to lift a leg to the top of the mattress to spread my pussy open wider, but my knees were tied together by my panties.
“What do you need?” he asked in a low, growly voice. The tingle in my clit upped a notch.
“I want your balls slamming my pussy.”
He pulled out of me while he tried to figure out how.
I slid off the bed onto the floor near the closet door. On hands and knees, I watched myself in the mirror as I waited for him. My hair draped over my face, but I could see one of my eyes staring back, dark and amused. I lowered my chest to the floor and arched my ass high. The carpet was rough against my nipples.
He knelt behind me and shoved his jeans down his hairy thighs. His butt dimpled at the side as he thrust into me. Muscles down his thighs flexed. The soft slap of swinging balls against my clit made it swell. His gaze seemed focused on the small of my back.
I reached between my legs to pinch the hood of my clit.
“Your juices are dripping off my balls.”
Men speak in hushed voices during sex, so full of awe. I didn’t need him to be sweet or kind or worship me, though.
My lips were a shade of heat that no lipstick could match. Slowly, I licked them and watched myself do it. My clit went rigid.
He held on tight as my pussy clenched and tried to shove him out. My mouth hung open as I gasped for breath. He lowered his chin and pummeled my cunt. His groin mashed against my butt as he hung, suspended in orgasm, for only a moment. Then he thrust slowly, savoring the glide in and out, until he was too soft to keep going.
My knees were stiff. He helped me up. I only kissed because he seemed to want to.
“Can I get you anything?” he asked, as I smoothed my hair for the mirror.
“A drink. The back of my throat is dry.”
He did the guy thing where they rock up onto their toes as they zip their fly. “Beer?”
I unlocked the door. “Vodka. Rocks.”
Sometimes, I just want a good stiff one.
VACATION PICTURES
Robert Peregrine
Lorraine and I are back from our weekend in Maine. Hope you enjoy these snaps as much as we enjoyed taking them!
Here’s Lorraine in front of the bed & breakfast where we stayed. A large and beautiful Victorian, as you can see. And the inn was nice, too. Just joking, folks. Yes, that giant suitcase is just for the weekend. You know Lorraine likes to be prepared for anything!
This is the proprietress of the B&B, a nice lady named Margo. Don’t you love the beaded lanyard on her bifocals? Despite dressing like a schoolmarm, she’s quite pretty, as you can see. And how old would you say? Thirty-six? The adorable calico cat is named Spammer. Margo says she named him that because he often leaves unwelcome messages in peoples’ rooms. Watch your step!
A peek inside the suitcase of toys that we brought for the weekend. Lots of rope and duct tape, of course. Obligatory magic wand vibrator. And I bet you can’t guess where that foot-long black dildo is going to end up. You’ll see later!
Me at the wine and cheese hour that they have every evening. I’m showing you the remote control for the butterfly vibrator that Lorraine is wearing under her dress. You can see her in the background by the fruit platter, and if you look closely you can see that she’s squirming a bit. That’s because I just flipped the switch. Ha ha!
In this one, I’ve given the remote control to Margo. Ain’t I a rascal? See how confused she looks? She doesn’t know what she’s controlling, but she keeps flipping it off and on. Lorraine is having a good time, and I’m having a good time watching her.
Now in this one, I’ve told Margo what the remote is for, and boy, is her face red! So that was the last picture we took Friday night. After we got back to the room, we were too excited to mess around with the camera.
However, here we are at brunch on Saturday (we got one of the other guests to take our picture), and it’s plain to see that we didn’t get a lot of sleep the night before. Lorraine’s hair is all matted up in the back. We were seriously in need of some coffee! We both had the eggwhite omelet, which I’m not ashamed to tell you was fantastic.
After brunch, we went for a walk on the beach. There are a couple of pictures here of the view. And here’s Lorraine sunbathing, nude of course. No tan lines for her. You can see the back of the inn there behind the dunes. And I’m just going to zoom in on this here.
That’s Margo on the balcony, looking at us with binoculars. And what’s she doing with her other hand? Yep, that’s what it looks like to me, too.
There’s Spammer lounging on the porch in the sun. That’s one hot pussy!
Here we are post-beach, showered and dressed for dinner. The pasta was out of this world, and the lobster (we were in Maine, after all) was possibly the best thing I’ve ever tasted, not counting the lovely Lorraine, of course.
Later on, we called down to the desk and ordered a bottle of wine for the room. Here’s Margo at the door bringing it up. Look at that devilish grin she has. Are you thinking what we were thinking about then? We invited her in to share it with us. To our delight, she accepted.
Is there a lovelier sight than two beautiful ladies kissing each other? I couldn’t resist snapping several pictures here.
Uh-oh, Margo is a naughty girl. She let Spammer into our room, and there’s a little unwanted message on the floor! Margo picks it up of course, but you know she’s going to get a spanking and maybe more.
Now, this is one of my favorites. Margo is hog-tied on the bed. Notice the beautiful skilled knotting? That’s all Lorraine’s doing. That’s my sweetheart for you.
At this point, we’ve tied a magic wand vibrator between Margo’s legs, right up against her clitoris. And what’s that in her ass? Well, that’s the foot-long black dildo I showed you earlier. Surprise!
Well, Margo eventually had to tend to other guests, and she had learned her lesson quite well we think, so we let her go. But first, I got a picture of Margo’s face when she was coming. And here’s one when she came the second time. And here’s the third. You wouldn’t believe the filthy things that came out of that woman’s mouth the fourth time.
Sunday morning, we got up early for the drive back, but not before enjoying another one of Margo’s delicious brunches. This time I had the eggs Benedict, and Lorraine had the French toast. Margo has a big smile on her face even though she has some rope burns on her wrists. And I imagine she was a little tender in the seat that morning, too.
And finally, here’s a couple Lorraine took as we were driving away, Margo waving good-bye to us from the front porch. And I got one of Lorraine in profile. Recognize that look on her face? I had the remote in my pocket.
ABOUT THE EDITOR
RACHEL KRAMER BUSSEL (rachelkramerbussel. com) is a New York-based author, editor and blogger. She has edited over thirty books of erotica, including Best Bondage Erotica 2011; Her Surrender; Orgasmic; Bottoms Up: Spanking Good Stories; Spanked; Naughty Spanking Stories from A to Z 1 and 2; Fast Girls; Smooth; Passion; The Mile High Club; Do Not Disturb; Tasting Him; Tasting Her; Please, Sir; Please, Ma’am; He’s on Top; She’s on Top; Caught Looking; Hide and Seek; Crossdressing and Rubber Sex. She is the author of the forthcoming novel, Everything But…, and the nonfiction book, How To Write an Erotic Love Letter, Best Sex Writing series editor, and winner of 5 IPPY (Independent Publisher) Awards. Her work has been published in over one hundred anthologies, including Best American Erotica 2004 and 2006; Zane’s Chocolate Flava 2 and Purple Panties; Everything You Know About Sex Is Wrong; Single State of the Union and Desire: Women Write About Wanting. She serves as senior editor at Penthouse Variation, and wrote the popular “Lusty Lady” column for The Village Voice.
Rachel is a sex columnist for SexisMagazine.com and has written for AVN, Bust, Cleansheets.com, Cosmopolitan, Curve, The Daily Beast, Fresh Yarn, TheFrisky.com, Gothamist, Huffington Post, Mediabistro, Newsday, New York Post, Penthouse, Playgirl, Radar, San Francisco Chronicle, Time Out New York and Zink, among others. She has appeared on “The Martha Stewart Show,” “The Berman and Berman Show,” NY1 and Showtime’s “Family Business.” She hosted the popular In the Flesh Erotic Reading Series (inthefleshreadingseries.com), featuring readers from Susie Bright to Zane, and speaks at conferences, does readings and teaches erotic writing workshops across the country. She blogs at lustylady.blogspot.com. Read more about Gotta Have It at gottahaveitbook.wordpress.com.
Copyright © 2011 by Rachel Kramer Bussel.
All rights reserved. Except for brief passages quoted in newspaper, magazine, radio, television or online reviews, no part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying or recording, or by information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
Published in the United States by Cleis Press, Inc., 2246 Sixth Street, Berkeley, California 94710.
eISBN : 978-1-573-44668-6
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