The Mammoth Book of Best New Erotica 2

by Maxim Jakubowski

  “Ya mean eat your pussy, right?” I says.

  “I assume so. That is what the rustics are calling it nowadays?”

  “Who ya callin’ ‘rustic’, Teifel?”

  “Girls, girls,” says Lilith, laughin’. Yeah, sure, she’s havin’ a good time all right. All she’s gotta do is sit there with her dick hard, I gotta eat out the Devil.

  “My apologies, Mrs Faust,” says Lucy. “Would you please eat my pussy?”

  “Eat it?” I says, psychin’ myself up. “I’m gonna devour it. Yuh’re gonna come so hard . . .”

  “How would I know in this body?” he says all snippy.

  Lilith an’ me, we just laugh. “You’ll know. Trust me,” I says.

  I look over at the clock again. 12:27. It’s time t’get this show on the road. So, I take my panties off an’ put ’em on Lilith’s face. She likes that. Musta made her dick harder or somethin’ ’cause Lucy’s gaspin’ an’ “ooohin’ ” big time now. I crawl up onto the bed where Lucy’s squattin’ on Lilith’s flesh-coloured popsicle. He don’t even wobble on his heels. We’re talkin’ fuckin’ amazin’ calf muscles an’ lots a black magic here. Just keeps pushin’ his ass lower an’ lower an’ spreadin’ his legs wider an’ wider so his pussy-lips are open an’ waitin’ for my killuh tongue.

  By some miracle, I get my body into this cockamamy position where I can get my face into her twat without knockin’ everybody off the bed. It looks like a real twat up close. Smells a helluva lot better than that cloud did too. But there’s somethin’ odd about it. Maybe the lips are too perfect, too perky. But then this is a pussy, not a twat, I reminds myself. They’re supposed t’be perky. Maybe it’s the clit. It kinda glows. Not like Rudolph or nothin’. It’s real faint like. But it definitely glows. Then it hits me. If somethin’ glows, it should be hot. But all that’s comin’ outta this pussy is a chill little wind.

  Shit, I thinks. How’m I gonna get warm fluids outta this ice box. I tries to calm myself down. The cold could be comin’ from Lilith’s schmuck. A big part of me’s afraid my tongue’s gonna freeze to Lucy’s cunt but the rest of me says I gotta play this out to the end. I’ve come too far to quit. Even my twat’s givin’ me her two cents an’ tellin’ me t’get in there already. I put my lips to his lips an’ start lickin’ my way aroun’.

  “Oooh,” says Lucy with this throaty little growl. “That’s new. I want more. What else can you do? Well? Do it!”

  The fuckin’ cunt tries to grab me by my hair an’ mash my face in his pussy but I bat his hands away. Then I goes an’ blows on his clit. Real light. He likes that ’cause it shuts him up. I touch it with the tip of my tongue. It ain’t ice, thank Gawd. It’s cool, but it ain’t ice. I got a shot here after all.

  So I start takin’ turns between my fingers an’ my tongue with the Devil’s clit. I’m suckin’ here an’ rubbin’ there like my life depends on it. An’ it does. But it’s gettin’ harder an’ harder cause Lilith’s got a really good fuck goin’. Lilith’s slammin’ her dick into Lucy an’ Lucy’s nearly jumpin’ up an’ down on Lilith. Which means his pussy’s bouncin’ all around an’ I’m gettin’ a friggin’ crick in my neck.

  I pull my head out for some air while I give the Devil the finger, an’ hard too. The clock says 12:37. Ten minutes. Only five more an’ we’re home free.

  My finger musta done somethin’ right ’cause we’re getting some juices flowin’ finally. I lick my finger. Not cold. Not warm. Somewheres in between. Like a really hot bath an hour later. What’s that word that sounds just like this water feels? Huh? Tepid. Yeah, that it. His juices was tepid. If I wanted warm, I was gonna have to pick up the pace. Fast.

  Lilith musta knew I was flaggin’ ’cause she goes an’ gives me a boost. She puts her hand between my legs an’ starts playin’ with my twat. Strokin’ it. Rubbin’ the juicy edges. Draggin’ her fingers teasin’ly between my lips. Givin’ little flicks of encouragement to my clit. An’ boy’d that make a born-again pussy-eater outta me. I wa tonguin’ like a mad woman. Then Lilith goes an’ slaps my ass hard, an’ again. Now, I’m tonguin’ like a very mad woman.

  “Why does she get her ass slapped?” says Lucy. “I want my ass slapped.”

  Jeez, I thinks, whadda whiner. Just shut up an’ come already.

  Lilith’s hand disappears. I hear her tryin’ to slap Lucy the same time as she’s fuckin’ him. Must be like battin’ away two tetherballs. Y’know. Whatevuh. All that matters is that Lucy likes it an’ he does. He starts doin’ really impressive deep-knee bends. Gawd, don’t that kill my neck. But I keep on bouncin’ along an’ eatin’ the Devil’s pussy. Even when he stops alla the sudden, mid-jump.

  There’s several things that tip me off to Lucy havin’ his biggest O. I mean, I’m busy in his twat so I can’t be lookin’ aroun’. His juice is still lukewarm. So I gotta push my face in deeper an’ lick harder. But I’m close enough to hear it all. Like Lucy’s hole squeezin’ Lilith’s dick. Yer asshole don’t do that unless y’got a majuh case of the shits or yer gettin’ the fuckin’ of yer life. It’s makin’ this awful crunchin’ sound. Like yer walkin’ on ice an’ it starts to crack. Pretty gross, huh? I thought so too. But whatevuh gets the Devil off, y’know.

  Then there’s all this wailin’ an’ cryin’ an’ shit – from Lucy. He’s in heaven – so to speak. Gawd Almighty, is he loud. C’mon, y’knew the Devil was gonna be a screamer. He’s yellin’, “Yes! Yes! Yes! I AM THE ANTI-CHRIST!” Honest. Whadda freak! An’ it ain’t hurtin’ Lilith neither. She’s just moanin’ all happy soundin’ while she’s shootin’ all these ice pellets – how else does a fuckin’ icicle come? – inside of the Devil.

  Then, I dunno why, I goes an’ does somethin’ completely meshugge. I bites into Lucy’s clit. Boy, does he scream now. A course the putz likes it rough. What was I thinkin’ before? Forget the tongue. Go for the teeth. An’ I do. An’ how.

  It’d’a been easier to pull a bone from a Rottweila’s mouth than get me to let go of Lucy. An’ while I’m chewin’ his clit, I’m lickin’ the tip from inside with my tongue. A modified “Fat Ruth’s Special.” An’ that’s when I feel the temperature risin’. My face is gettin’ wetter an’ warmer.

  Then he goes an’ has anotha Big O. Fuckin’ A! Am I lovin’ Lucy now.

  When the Devil’s done shakin’ an’ shriekin’, I stop bitin’ his clit an’ pull my face outta his still-throbbin’ lips an’ lick my own. “Well,” I says, “whadda we have here? Tastes like warm fluids.”

  “What? That cannot be,” Lucy moans.

  “Lilith, whadda ya think?” She pulls her big icicle outta Lucy’s ass – Jesus Christ, whadda sad sound he makes when that happens – an’ leaves the Devil squattin’ over nothin’. Then she slides out from between his legs an’ rolls over t’me an’ starts lappin’ at my face.

  “Tastes like warm fluids to me. Here, taste this, girlfriend.”

  An’ Lilith puts her fingers into Lucy’s twat an’ then goes an’ rubs the sticky juice all over his face.

  “No, no, no,” Lucy shouts, makin’ a big to-do about it an’ tossin’ his bimbo hair aroun’ again. “This is not what we agreed to.”

  “Hold the phone, Teifel, this is just what ya agreed to. I make ya come after yer longest go-round ever. Which I did. With the help of my girlfriend. An’ it was all totally legal as ya would know, bein’ the fathuh of all lawyers.”

  “What?” the Devil says. He sounds all tired an’ dizzy. He’s wobblin’ a bit as he stands up on the bed.

  “That’s right. There was nothin’ in yer contract that said I couldn’t have help or that ya had t’be a man. I said ‘the Devil’. There was no mention ever about ‘he’ or ‘she’. Just ‘the Devil’ comes. That’s it.”

  I hear this weird noise. Like snifflin’. It looks like Lucy ain’t far off with anotha round of waterworks. Time to close the deal.

  “An’ I also said specifically, an’ I quote, ‘there’ll be warm fluids’. End quote. I didn’t say you’ll come warm f
luids. I said you’ll come an’ there’ll be warm fluids. You did. There were. The end. I win. Now fork it over.”

  Next thing I know, the walls are runnin’ with tears. Lilith an’ me are on the floor. Lucy’s hair is touchin’ the freakin’ ceilin’ an’ he ain’t far below it, arms spread wide like he’s You-Know-Who on the cross, his heels just danglin’ in the air. What’s this nut’s obsession with Jesus? The bed’s hoverin’ next to us an’ spinnin’. I’m waitin’ for some hurricane wind t’kick in. That an’ some loud organ music.

  Instead, Lucy’s face turns redduh an’ redduh. An’ he makes the fuckin’ awful high screechin’ sound without openin’ his mouth. Then he belches out in this terrifyin’ monster voice, “Oh, Christ!” an’ disappears in a little cloud of the same ol’ farshtinkener smoke.

  Next thing I know, there’s this light tippy-tap goin’ on at the door. “Come in,” I shout. An’ Mr Mephistopheles pops that big white collar of his aroun’ the door an’ then I see his head. He’s givin’ me this fuckin’ sly smile an’ smoke’s all curlin’ out, as usual, from the end of his long cigarette holduh. He pulls it outta his mouth an’ purrs somethin’ like, “Congratulations, ladies. You’ve won.”

  So I’m all screamin’ an’ shit an’ bouncin’ on the no-longer-hoverin’ bed an’ Lilith’s laughin’ her ass off an’ Mr Mephistopheles asks, “Mistress?” Lilith has to slap me on the tuchis t’get my attention, “Hey, what’s that for?” She tells me he’s talkin’ t’me. To me. Mistress. Well, all right. I can do “mistress”. So I says, “Yes?”

  “Mistress, if you’ll be needing anything in particular tonight, do let me know.”

  “Well, y’know, Mephi – can I call ya ‘Mephi’?” I says, climbin’ down off the bed.

  “I would be honoured, Mistress.”

  “Great. You know what I could go for right now?”

  “No, Mistress.”

  “Rick at Burguh Haven. Y’know, aroun’ 1981.”

  “An excellent choice, Mistress.”

  “An’ make sure he brings enough double cheeseburguhs an’ fries for both me an’ Lilith. Ya okay with eatin’ meat t’night, bubeleh?”

  She starts laughin’ her ass off again. “It’s been a while,” she says, “but why the hell not.”

  “That’s what I’m thinkin’. Why the hell not!” An’ I goes an’ grabs her by the dick. It ain’t no icicle now.

  “Y’don’t mind keepin’ this a little longer?” I says.

  “Longer?” she says.

  “Y’know what I mean.” She gives me this nasty grin an’ pulls me in to slip me some tongue. Did I mention I love tongue?

  Eventually, I tear myself away. I gotta breathe sometime, an’ I can feel Mephi watchin’ us. Not that I mind bein’ watched. But in Mephi’s case, I know it ain’t doin’ a thing for him. I remind myself to order him to have a go with Rick when Lilith an’ I are done with the Burguh Gawd. Hell, I bet he’s gone without it longer than I have.

  “Hey, Mephi,” I says, turnin’ to him. “Y’got all that?”

  “Oh, yes, Mistress.” An’ he closes the door an’ then opens it an’ there’s Rick, naked except for this big bag of burguhs an’ fries. Boy did we all pig out that night.

  By the next afternoon, I’ve divorced Kurt. Mephi an’ Rick had to go to Florence t’get him to sign. Good riddance was all I could think. He an’ that Gretchen bitch an’ the Devil deserve each other.

  By sunset, I had a new house in Sag Harbour an’ I got one for Lilith next door. We spent all night testin’ out the beds in both houses. In fact, for the rest of that year I was testin’ beds an’ bodies all aroun’ the world.

  This year I’ve been fuckin’ an’ readin’. Yeah, William Shakespeare. That’s right. Him an’ every other bastard that still got somethin’ in print.

  A course, now that y’know I got all these supermensch powers I bet ya wanna know what I’m gonna do with ’em next. A fair question. I don’t know. But I’ve been thinkin’. An’ it’s gonna be big. It’s gonna be very big.

  Peace in the Middle East? Ya had to ask? A woman in the White House? A course. But it won’t be me. I’ve got bigger matzo balls to boil.

  Y’know, come to think of it, I might as well put one in the Vatican too. Just to shake things up a bit. Maybe a Madame President in Bejing an’ Moscow. It’s the second Madame Prime Ministuh for Israel that’s gonna be the real trick. Y’think I’m kiddin’. I should know. I worked on a kibbutz one summuh. Some of those sabra boys are to die for, trust me. But ever try talkin’ to a muy macho Jew. Oy, vay iz mir. All I can say is this shrew’s gotta helluva lot a tamin’ t’do.

  But I said really big. End world hunguh? Such a question. A course. What am I, a monster? Somethin’ much bigger.

  Like, for example, turnin’ all those fat farms in the strip malls into pleasure palaces for us plus size women. Gawd, how I’ve hated that name “plus size”. Like we’re one plus anotha woman. Talk about yer Addition Doublin’ Disorduh. Na, I wanna turn that plus into somethin’ good. That’s right, people. I don’t want my weight watched. I want it worshipped. An’ that goes double for my twat!

  But that’s only the beginnin’.

  For now, just remember my name. Ruth Vitale. Yer gonna be hearin’ it any day now.

  Hey, ya want anotha slice of the pecan ring? Good. Then we’ll take a ride on my broomstick like I promised ya.

  Melinda

  Mitzi Szereto

  It hurt at first. But then it got better. Just like they told her it would.

  Melinda had never considered allowing anyone to tie her up. The idea of handing her body over to another person – of relinquishing her control and her womanhood to people she barely knew – had no place on her list of Things To Do Before I Die. Of course there were a lot of things Melinda would never have considered doing before the night she went to the annual company Christmas party, unescorted and conspicuously alone.

  The event started off like all the Christmas parties that had gone before, with nearly everyone in attendance parading their dates before their colleagues, their overly-loud laughter and too-bright smiles making Melinda feel more out of the social fray than usual. Not fond of large gatherings, she immediately regretted her mistake in not having coerced her gay friend Joel into coming along with her. He was always a handy escort when she found herself in a pinch, particularly since he knew just when to fade into the background. But tonight Melinda didn’t want to be bogged down with a date, bogus or otherwise. She wanted to be available, just in case. She’d even brought along her credit card to splurge on a room in the swanky hotel where the party was being held. Why, she could see the misty green landscape of Hyde Park from the window already!

  As it happened, the only view of Hyde Park Melinda ended up being treated to on this wet December evening was the one from the hotel lobby. Evidently the creative head of corporate advertising had far more interesting things to do with his Saturday night than spend it with the office gadabouts, unlike Melinda, who really didn’t have anything else to do on this rainy Saturday night. It was either the company Christmas party or cuddling up with the cat to watch yet another television documentary featuring a rhapsodic David Attenborough narrative on the sex lives of creepy-crawly things that live under rocks. At the moment Melinda was more concerned about her own sex life, which had definitely hit the skids.

  This recent downward sexual spiral had gained some unwanted momentum thanks to Melinda’s involvement with a man from her gym. In retrospect, she probably should have realized that anyone with that many muscles spent most of his time lifting weights and none on building up a career. Therefore it didn’t take long for Melinda to decide she could easily forfeit all that hard defined male flesh in return for a steady bed partner with a steady salary and something to talk about beside abs and pecs. For after only a couple of steamy sessions, Blake and his weightlifting paraphernalia had virtually moved into her tiny flat. Granted, they were pretty good steamy sessions as steamy sessions tend to go,
though certainly by no means fulfilling enough to warrant her financial support of the man – not even if his tongue claimed the distinction of being as muscular and rippling as the rest of him! Whether at her most exhausted or sexually apathetic, one dose of Blake’s hard-working tongue between her thighs would be enough to make Melinda forget the pile of paperwork waiting for her at the office. It was only too bad the rest of Blake wasn’t quite as industrious as his tongue.

  As she stood by the bar sipping spicy Christmas punch from a plastic cup and nodding the occasional hello to a familiar face, Melinda’s glittery evening bag burned an embarrassing reminder against her hip. The unused Visa card that had been placed inside it with such careful premeditation before she left home for the party now made her feel like a fool. At the time it had seemed like a terribly sophisticated thing to do. But as her meticulously made-up eyes swept across the crowd of revellers searching for the one face she most wanted to see, Melinda realized that the expensive French perfume lavished behind her ears and on the insides of her thighs had been wasted, along with the outrageous sum of money that had gone towards the purchase of her new black dress, which had looked so-o-o sexy when she’d tried it on in the shop. So profound was her disappointment on what should have been a festive occasion that she considered leaving. However, all this changed when her crestfallen gaze met that of a dark-featured young man who looked as out of place as she felt.

  Perhaps it was the expression of contemplative amusement in his smoky Eastern eyes that set him so apart from the others in the noisy hotel banquet room. This, and the fact that he appeared to be the only male in attendance not drinking himself into a state of obnoxiousness or risking his teeth on the dried-out chicken wings, made his presence all the more noticeable. Or at least it did to Melinda, who found his aloofness strangely appealing. This was not a man who needed to call attention to himself. And neither, for that matter, was his fair-skinned female companion. For he stood in a gaudily decorated corner elbow-to-elbow and thigh-to-thigh with the most stunning woman Melinda had ever seen: an ephemeral white-blonde with eyes as amber as a cat’s and the stealthy mouse-baiting movements to go along with them. How was Melinda to know that she would be that mouse?