Giselle was so surprised that she cried out, “Rene!”
Rene turned to her friend with a wide smile. “The taste is wonderful, cherie! Salty, sweet and bitter all at the same time and it makes me so wet between my legs I am sure there will be a puddle in only a moment.” She turned back to François and licked at the head of his member.
“If you take it into your mouth and suckle like a baby, moving your head in and out—” François began.
Rene began to do just that, bobbing her head back and forth and stroking the underside with her tongue.
“Ah, oui, oui! Like that! Mon Dieu!”
After a few more bobs of her head, François, his voice breathy and barely controlled said, “I am going to erupt into your mouth. Don’t stop! Please, don’t stop!”
She did not.
Giselle could see the giant’s orgasm in his face. His eyes were squeezed shut, his head was thrown back, his mouth open, as the spasm clenched his middle and exploded through his body. His rich white cream exploded into Rene’s mouth spurt after spurt, in such volume that, though she tried to swallow it all, she could not. Much leaked from the corners of her mouth, ran down her chin and dripped onto the carpet.
Giselle was both appalled and inflamed. Her nipples had hardened into points that showed clearly through the satin of her dressing gown; melting heat between her legs caused her sexual honey to flow out and wet the insides of her thighs to her stocking tops. Her clitoral jewel throbbed and cried for attention so much that she brought her finger to it and began stroking it, but it was not enough. She wanted François’ tongue to replace it. She wanted the rigid, spurting thing in Rene’s mouth to pump its creamy liqueur into her femininity.
Rene continued to draw the rich liquid from François until there was no more, and with the last drops came all the strength from the giant’s legs. He took a wobbling step back and sat down on the couch where the dancers had been.
Rene, more ardent now than when she had first tasted François’ decoction, stood and turned to Giselle, embraced her and, with François’ essence still on her lips, kissed her lover full on the mouth. Giselle tasted François on Rene’s lips and immediately drove her tongue into the other’s mouth seeking more. Rene responded by pulling open Giselle’s dressing gown then sliding it off her shoulders. She took her mouth from Giselle’s only long enough to drop her own dressing gown onto the carpet leaving them both dressed only in garter belts and stockings.
François watched as the dancers began to caress one another, first breasts then thighs then between thighs. The light from the gas lamps was a warm golden sheen on their skin. His painter’s eye saw the flex of each muscle, the strain of each ligament, and the sight of these two perfect bodies entangled in one another made his heart catch with the awe of their beauty. There was the scent of feminine excitement mixed with perfume rising from Rene and Giselle also. Some vagrant draft carried the aroma to him and as it touched his nose it touched his manhood, which came to attention once again.
The dancers had gone down onto the floor and were lying with their faces between one another’s legs. Giselle was on top concentrating her kisses and the caresses of her tongue on Rene’s opened feminine flower, while receiving the same ministrations from Rene. The liquid sound of the women’s excitement was like another gentle stroke on François’ erection. He could taste coppery desire on his tongue, but he hesitated to interrupt the pair on the floor so he began slowly to masturbate.
Rene glanced in François’ direction and saw what he was doing. She pulled her mouth away from Giselle’s sensual gaze. “No, my giant! Do not waste any of your delicious man sauce! Come here!”
Giselle, remembering the desire that had been born as François’ climax had emptied itself into Rene’s mouth, lifted her face from between Rene’s legs and panted, “Yes, yes, François, please come and put your tongue in me! Put your cock in me! Please!”
François was suddenly more inflamed than ever before in his life. He had dreamed of the moment when Giselle, the ballerina he had most desired from all the corps de ballet, would call him by name and beg him to do that which he most wanted to do. It had been a physical ache in his heart and in his loins since the first time he had seen her. Now the very sound of his name in her mouth made his breath shorten. He did not waste a moment stripping off the rest of his clothes. He went down onto his knees behind Giselle, first bending over to kiss and taste her blonde-fringed flower, stopping only a moment to kiss Rene’s lips. She kissed him hungrily while moaning with the ministrations of Giselle’s mouth between her legs.
François rose to his knees and moved to Giselle’s deliciously heart-shaped bottom with the two pink satin garter straps stretched over it. He put his hands on her sides just above the garter belt at her hip bones and lifted her higher on her knees. When she was up, he began running his fingers around the opening of her chamber to spread the copious lubrication evenly, stopping after each circuit to plunge his finger into her. He did not find that she was still a virgin for her hymen had long since been broken by the exertions required by the dance, but he did find that she was very tight and he feared that he would hurt her with his huge member. He took a little while putting first one finger, then two, then three, into her and turning them carefully to bring all the elasticity he could before putting himself into her, but at last Giselle lifted her face and said, “No more! I want you in me now, François. Now!”
Because of his size, François was forced to bend his knees to lower himself to the level of Giselle’s opening. He held his erection in his hand and carefully rubbed the head of it between the lips of her vulva to lubricate it before beginning to push himself into her tight confines. Slowly, he pushed himself into her and with each centimeter Giselle moaned. She continued to lick and kiss Rene but the excitingly sensual reality of François’ member sliding into her belly distracted her somewhat.
At last François was buried all the way to his pubic hair in Giselle and he began a slow deep rhythm that made her cry out “Uhn!” each time the head of his manhood touched the base of her womb.
Rene meanwhile continued to stimulate Giselle’s swollen clitoris, but she also began to drag the point of her tongue down the center of François’ testicle sac. Giselle’s sexual honey, which was being forced out of her by the huge member, was trickling down and dripping from François’ balls. Rene lapped the ambrosial liqueur, a blend of male and female, and found that the taste of it was causing her own honey to well up more copiously. That welling added to Giselle’s excitement so she kissed and licked Rene’s pleasure channel more avidly, flicking her tongue over Rene’s throbbing, swollen clitoris.
François drove himself with more and more power into Giselle and just as he felt that he could not contain himself much longer he felt the clutching, squeezing paroxysms of her orgasm. The electrifying spasms of ecstasy caused the ballerina, that most coordinated, most graceful of beings, to lose control of her body as the clenching, vibrating bolts of orgiastic lightning shot through her. Her release was so great that even the most basic bodily training was lost and a stream of urine flowed out and into Rene’s face. Some of that golden wine found its way into Rene’s mouth. She found the taste sweet and the excitement that had caused her young lover to release it was so contagious that she felt the squeezing climax herself and began humping her hips, though Giselle was so distracted she had stopped her ministrations.
Feeling the quiver of Giselle’s body through his hands as well as his loins, François released his straining control, but he was not so foolish as to allow his powerful essence to spill out into the beautiful dancer’s womb. The instant before his creamy quintessence erupted he pulled himself from Giselle’s still craving belly. He continued to hunch his hips in such a way as to stroke his raging manhood between her buttocks at the top, and with only one further repetition his climax gushed forth, tearing a scream of ecstasy from his very center. The first spurt reached her shoulder with subsequent jets falling like liquid pearls a
long the channel of her spine. The three collapsed in a heap on the floor of the dressing room completely spent.
Who knows how such information is passed along, but in a very short time the ménage à trois found its way into the whispered gossip of the corps de ballet, and in following days other dancers including the prima ballerina found their way to test the gigantic painter to their infinite satisfaction.
François continued to be the plaything of the Ballet de Paris for many years thereafter, and during those times François, while taking great joy in the sexual congress of beautiful women, also etched memories of the dancers’ every curve and line on his mind. From those memories he painted hundreds of pictures, and sold them to discreet collectors of erotic art. He drew the bodies of the dancers in such a way that their faces were hidden and, even though he was offered fortunes to show the faces, he never did. He made only two exceptions: Rene and Giselle. Of them he painted all, including their beautiful faces, but those paintings he kept hidden in the private chamber of his studio, keeping them only for his own pleasure.
EROTICA
Volume 11
Edited by
Barbara Cardy
VOYEURS DELIGHT
Gary Philpott
I was on my third glass of wine when Sarah suggested it, but the alcohol is not to blame. I was as sober as a judge the evening I walked towards her house. It all began when we were on one of our midweek girly night outs, doing what we always do, sitting in a quiet corner of the pub, having a good old chat. Inevitably, a fair chunk of the conversation was about sex and what we got up to with men. I had just finished telling Sarah about my latest man. His name is Alex, and he just loves doing it in front of mirrors.
“We tried videoing ourselves at it once.” Sarah giggled into her glass.
I went into amateur-sex-therapist mode. “It’s said to be a good aphrodisiac if a couple watch it together afterwards.”
“Oh, we did that. In fact, we played it back straight away. It was awful.” She laughed loudly and almost lost her balance as she rocked back on the bench seat. “When he set the camera up, Chris zoomed in too far. And basically, we fucked our way out of shot.”
The word “fucked” pricked up the ears of three older guys at the bar. All three heads turned our way. We smiled, and quietened things down a bit.
“You obviously needed a cameraman,” I whispered.
“We certainly did. Maybe next time, eh?”
“Imagine that, having sex while a strange man films you.”
“Yuk.” Sarah took a gulp of wine. “No, it would have to be someone I knew, preferably female.”
“Well, don’t look at me,” I joked. The trouble was, she was looking at me. And what’s more, she had a mischievous glint in her eye. I knew what was coming.
“Why not?”
“Well, because . . . Anyway, you’re not serious.”
“I am.” She was leaning forward and speaking quietly. “And it wouldn’t be the first time I’ve fucked in the same room as you.”
“That was different.”
“Yes, but it was fun. And I know you were watching my guy fucking me while his mate’s head was up under your skirt. I’ll never forget the loud noises you made when you came.”
The memory of that night brought an involuntary grin to my face. “Yes, I did enjoy it.”
“Well, it certainly sounded that way.”
“I can’t help it, I’ve always been noisy. That’s what orgasms do to me.” I couldn’t stop myself from laughing. I tried to suppress it by taking a slurp of wine. All that did was make me cough, splutter and laugh, all at the same time.
“So, it’s game on, is it?”
Suddenly, I stopped laughing. “What, me filming you and Chris?”
She stared me in the eye. “Yep. I know you want to, so why not say yes?”
She was right, the idea did appeal, but I couldn’t actually do it, could I?
An extremely uncomfortable silence followed. It was Sarah who broke it. “It doesn’t have to be too serious, just a bit of fun. And you haven’t said no yet, so I know you’re considering it. Please say you will do it.”
“OK, then,” I said over the top of my wineglass. I felt my Adam’s apple jerk as I gulped a slug of wine down my throat. I looked over to the three men at the bar, and was thankful they were too preoccupied with their own conversation to have overheard the arrangement we had just agreed to.
And so there I was, walking the short distance to Devonshire Avenue with a few butterflies in my stomach, and my longest coat covering a nurse’s outfit. It was an outfit I wore at Sarah’s request. It was Chris who pulled open the front door, wearing a white coat, and with a stethoscope around his neck. “Ah, nurse, I’m glad you could make it. Let me take your coat.”
I slipped the coat off my shoulders and passed it to him.
“Sarah’s upstairs.” He gestured for me to go first.
I understood his motive perfectly. Like all fantasy outfits, my nurse’s dress was short, and my panties skimpy. Here goes, I said to myself, not really believing what I was about to do.
My guess is that Chris was following about four steps behind. I had felt his eyes on my backside many times before, but I doubt if his face had ever been as close to it as it was at that moment. I felt anxious, and I felt incredibly naughty.
When we were about halfway up, he unexpectedly spoke from behind me. “You have a very nice arse, nurse.” My shoulders flinched a little.
I composed myself and said, “I’m glad you like it, doctor.” A tingle of excitement shot through me.
At the top of the stairs, I turned left into the main bedroom. The camera I had practiced with over the weekend was sitting on a tripod, pointing at the bed. Two standard lamps with translucent shawls draped over their lampshades were positioned either side of it. Combined with the ceiling lamp, they produced a good, but soft light.
Sarah was sitting up on top of the bed with her back resting against the headboard. She was wearing a satin and lace baby-doll nightie.
I stepped behind the camera and set about my work.
“Good evening,” said Chris, as if he had never met Sarah before.
“Good evening, sir.”
“Can I touch you?”
“Of course.” Sarah smiled. “That’s what you’ve paid me for.” That was when I realized she was going to play the whore, not the patient.
He settled onto the bed, and his right hand went onto her thigh.
“Ooh, you have very soft hands,” said Sarah.
I zoomed in on her mischievous face and loosened the tripod handle. Slowly, I panned the shot downwards, over her bulging breasts, past her stomach, and onto the fingers stroking her thigh.
“I bet you have a nice pussy,” murmured Chris. “I want to feel it.”
His hand started going that way. Sarah opened her legs to give it easy access. I zoomed back to take in her face. It was then that I noticed the bulge in Chris’s trousers. It had to be captured. As I filmed the close-up, Sarah eased the zip down, and helped his stiff cock out into shot. Taking it into a tight fist, she started to milk it, expertly putting in a little twist with each stroke. His foreskin moved backwards and forwards over an engorged, purple helmet.
By zooming out a little I managed to bring the white triangle between Sarah’s legs into frame.
“Suck it, please suck it,” demanded Chris.
“Oral without is extra, sir.”
“Suck my cock. I’ll pay whatever it costs.” He was sounding desperate.
“OK, sir.” Sarah leaned towards it and ran her tongue over the tip, licking off a globule of pre-come as she went. Her lips wrapped around the head and moved on down. Not quite believing it, I looked over the top of the camera to check how deep into her mouth she was taking his cock. She was doing incredibly well.
With her mouth still going up and down, she moved herself round so her arse was pointing straight at the camera. Her hands went in search of her knickers. I was wa
tching through the viewfinder as she struggled to remove her panties; her knees wobbled on the soft mattress as she did so. It certainly added a touch of realism to the film. Once they were round her ankles, she shook them off each foot in turn.
Sarah’s glistening pussy swayed as she continued the oral scene. Her bum cheeks were stretched a little, affording the camera a wonderful view of her butt hole. Being a porn camera-girl was certainly making my juices flow.
They played out that first act well. It was followed by one where they ripped each other’s clothes off.
The fucking started in a reverse cowgirl position. The camera caught close-ups of her pussy going up and down over his shiny wet cock, his balls pulled up tight beneath it. Her tits bounced in rhythm to the fucking. Their breathing grew heavy, and then the dirty talk started.
“That’s it, fuck me, babe. Fuck me real hard,” grunted Chris.
“Oh yes, I’m going to fuck you all right. I’m going to fuck you so fucking hard your cock will hurt.” And that is what she did – she fucked him really hard. Her arse slapped against his stomach. It looked and sounded incredibly filthy.
After that, it was into the doggy position. Holding onto her hips, Chris slid his cock into her cunt. While he was pounding her from behind, he started probing her anus with a finger.
“The lube’s on the bedside table,” said Sarah invitingly.
Without disengaging, he leaned over and reached for the tube. After removing the cap with his teeth, he squeezed out two big blobs. Both hit the target perfectly. He started working it into her hole, and eventually eased his finger all the way in.
“Can you take two?” he asked.
“Do it,” responded Sarah.
He stopped fucking her for a moment, and moved her round to give me a better angle. Slowly, he pushed a second finger in, stretching her open. Sarah groaned through clenched teeth. Chris kept both fingers still inside her as he started to fuck her pussy again.
The Mammoth Book of Erotic Stories Page 32