Sudden Sex: 69 Sultry Short Stories

by Alison Tyler

  He stood up and pulled her off the table. Turning her around, he pushed her roughly forward, leaning her over the picnic table. Looking back at him, she watched as he rolled the condom over his hard cock, his face the picture of concentration. She felt his hard cock teasing her, rubbing her swollen pussy lips. She pushed back against him, desperate to have him inside her, but he stayed just far enough away to leave her wanting. Pressing his hands into her hips, he held her for a few moments more, before giving her what she wanted.

  His thick cock stretched her open even farther, and she felt herself give way as he slid all the way inside her. Slowly, he eased out and in, feeling the heat of her all along his shaft, her moisture drenching him as the rain had. His fingers found her hard nipples, squeezing them roughly through her shirt. He sped up, until he was pounding her nearly off her feet, his power overwhelming her. She pressed her hands into the wood of the table, as she tried to steady herself against his relentless thrusts. She felt her thighs start to twitch, her pussy start to tighten as his hands returned to her hips to hold her steady.

  Sensing that she was close, he eased his pace, thrusting slowly, methodically, deeply. Pressing her forehead into the table, she moaned through her clenched teeth, rocking back to meet him. When he reached down and stroked her clit, rubbing it between moist, rough fingers, she lost it. Screaming out into the storm, she felt all her muscles contract at once, wringing her orgasm out of her. Leaning on the table for support, she let him fuck her through her quaking.

  Her juices covered him, her soft, throbbing wetness sending his cock into convulsions. The force of his climax caused him to lean forward against her, kissing and biting at her neck. He felt her tiny aftershocks, as he continued pumping into her, his broken moans going right into her ear. His final thrust hit her deep, forcing a strangled moan from her throat just barely heard over the thunder. He collapsed on top of her, his weight pressing her back down onto the table.

  Both of them were breathing heavily, spent. He stood up as the rain was beginning to die down. She straightened up, pulling her shorts up from the heap on the ground. She looked up at him and pulled him in for one final kiss. As he moved away from her, he hesitated for a moment. He smiled, his deep voice hitting her ears for the first time.

  “Thanks for the workout. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  Before she could respond to his words, he took off down the path. As he rounded the corner, a glimmer of sun peeked out from behind the clouds, just in time to start its descent to the horizon.

  COME AS YOU ARE

  Andrea Dale

  We’re going to try something new,” I said, keeping my tone conversational as if I were discussing a recipe I’d seen in a magazine, as if I weren’t standing behind Connor and fastening cuffs around his wrists.

  His fingers flexed, as if he wanted to fist his hands, but he knew better than to do that. His knuckles brushed the curve of his high, tight ass, and I paused for a moment to enjoy the sight of the rich green leather against his pale skin and, below, the fading red stripes he’d received from the crop not long ago.

  I liked watching his ass flex when I cropped him.

  “Something new,” I repeated, moving to stand before him. His head was bowed, as was appropriate. I was tempted to tuck my forefinger under his chin, nudge his gaze up so I could watch his expression. But I suspected I’d see his reaction in another way. “No fucking,” I said. “No hands. Just your mouth on me, making me come.”

  His reaction was so swift it made me smile. His cock, half-hard already because of the cuffs, surged as if it had a mind of its own.

  Connor loved to go down on me. Loved to worship my clit, my slick lips; loved to taste me and lick me and suck and nibble until my thighs clenched and I pulsed and sometimes I squirted. He loved my scent, the feel of me on his mouth, and it was something I frequently exploited, to both our delight.

  But this…this would be different. Because usually afterward, we fucked—more often than not, with me on top, enjoying a few more orgasms before I allowed Connor his release. (Well, no matter what position I chose, the latter was true.)

  What I wasn’t going to tell him—not just yet—was that I wanted to see if he could come just from the pleasure of going down on me.

  Because I wanted to see how quickly he’d figure that out on his own.

  Now, his hands securely bound, I settled myself back on the settee against a mound of pillows, spread my legs and beckoned him to me. I felt like a queen, an object of worship—and, truly, that’s how Connor approached me. We’d talked about it, early in our relationship, about how he wanted a woman he could devote himself to fully and completely, someone to love and cherish and, yes, worship. To him, I was to be adored, venerated, and I reveled in that, even as I respected that my dominion over him, as it were, came with responsibility.

  That’s what love is all about, isn’t it?

  So he approached me on his knees, subservient and obsequious, and I tilted my hips toward his eager mouth.

  Slow, at first. I’d had to teach him that. Even if a woman was already aroused, she didn’t want to be pounced upon and wildly devoured—she wanted to be savored, wanted the pleasure to build.

  Oh, certainly sometimes I wanted to come faster than others, and I could instruct Connor to ramp things up quickly. The operating phrase being “ramp things up.”

  Now, he first inhaled the scent of my arousal, his eyes fluttering closed as he savored it. Then he leaned farther forward to place a gentle kiss before his tongue swirled through my lips and around my clit with a gentle reverence.

  I was torn, wanting to let my head drop back and just revel in the sensations, but also wanting to watch. I loved seeing his face buried in my crotch.

  “Very good, Connor,” I murmured as he licked every inch of me with long, slow strokes. “Such a talented tongue.” I could feel the blood pooling in my groin, the delicious heaviness as my arousal built.

  “I said something new, didn’t I?” I went on, my toes crimping the sheet on the settee as I tensed. “I said no fucking, no hands. But we’ve done that before.”

  Connor didn’t respond. He knew what his task was, knew the punishment for slacking.

  “I didn’t mean just what you’re doing to me—oh, god, just there.” I was getting close. I hadn’t timed this as well as I would have liked. Connor was just so talented! “I mean I won’t be fucking you, either. Or using my hand on you. Or you using your hand on yourself.”

  I thought I heard a faint, querulous noise.

  “It’s going to go like this,” I said. “When I come, you may come. In fact, when I come, you are required to come.”

  His tongue stuttered just then, a brief startled pause as the weight of my words sank into his sub-spaced brain.

  I rested a hand on his head, reminding him of his duty.

  My clit throbbed gently; I was on the edge. A part of me wanted something inside of me—Connor’s fingers, a dildo—but I’d said no hands, and that was the fun of it for both of us. Connor was well able to make me come, hard, just from using his mouth.

  “I’m getting close, Connor. Are you? I know you’re hard—you always get deliciously hard when you lick me, like a good boy. Are your balls tight? Are you getting close, too? I’ll be very disappointed in you if you don’t come when I tell you to, you know. We’ll have to figure out a suitable punishment.” My words were coming in gasps now. “Orgasm restriction, maybe, or maybe I’ll tie you up and make you come over and over again until you can’t stand it.”

  The mental images of Connor begging, his cock red and swollen—in either scenario—were enough to tip me over that wonderful edge. My groin flooded with warmth as my clit pulsed. My hips involuntarily raised off the bed, and I ground myself into Connor’s face.

  Lost in the throes of my own orgasm, for a few moments I wasn’t precisely aware of Connor. When I was able to open my eyes and focus, he drew back and sat up, his chest heaving.

  The sheet I’d draped ove
r the settee glistened with his ejaculate.

  “Oh, Connor, well done.” I stroked his chiseled face with my fingertips. “You’ve passed this first test so well…”

  POSSESSIVE TENSE

  Raziel Moore

  Fuck…fuck. You b-bastard,” she said, her breath broken, the panted words sounding bitten off of something inside.

  “Mmm. Yes. That’s me.” Still hard, still buried in her, the trailing shudders of Nica’s orgasm milked my cock for its last drops. No matter what she said, she’d come hard enough to hurt both of us. “Yes. Fuck me is right.”

  “Oh, god, I never…”

  “I know,” I mocked, “you’ve never done that before. You could never do that. It shouldn’t feel good. ‘Good girls don’t.’ Sane, healthy women would never…” She squirmed under me, pinioned, our sweat slick between us.

  “But you’re not a good girl, are you? You could. And you did.” Her skin was so soft, so hot against mine. I licked her neck up to her ear; the bite mark there would be hard to hide. She shuddered at the sting of saliva on broken skin, and I felt it all the way down, her insides fluttering around me in reaction. The noise she made was halfway between moan and sob.

  “What…what are you doing to me?” Her eyes were so pretty with the welling of tears, the dilation of climax, the tremor of fear and uncertainty.

  “Nica. You know. I’m making you mine. Making you my whore.”

  That sound. That little whimper she made, like a trapped animal, like a wanton slut. It made me twitch; made me stiffen again and push inside her.

  “Uh-uh… I’m not a…”

  “Not a whore? Darling. Weren’t those your very words? When you were begging me to fuck you? To make you come? You said it. And didn’t I hear and give you what you wanted?” My mouth hovered close to her ear, as if telling a secret.

  “No…yes.”

  “Didn’t you come, again, just like I said you would? You can again, too. You will again, whenever I want. And you’ll love it—you will want it with all that you are.”

  “Please.” If she kept sounding like that, so delicious, so vulnerable and needy, I wouldn’t be responsible. I’d start again. But then, she was a little right, I knew. So I relented just a bit; I would exact my price for that later.

  “No. You’re not a whore. A whore doesn’t care who gives them what they need. I could give a whore to a colleague or client, a friend or a bum off the street, and you wouldn’t care, and I wouldn’t care, as long as your cunt or your ass was full and your body shaking with pleasure.” I accented every few words with little thrusts. She whined quietly in protest; but her bucking hips and arching back contradicted her sounds. The flood of our fluids, slurps and sluices, spread the pungent stain of us on the sheets. My voice turned harsh, accusing.

  “But no, you’re under my skin. You’re my whore. You fucked yourself into me as sure as I fucked myself into you, you amazing, delectable little slut. You didn’t even know it. I didn’t even know it until it was too late. And I am far, far too selfish. Too territorial with what I truly want. You, I will not share; not give away to anyone. I’m keeping you. You’re mine.” I punctuated my possessiveness with harder and harder jabs.

  “Oh, god.” It could have been anguish in her voice. It could have been relief. Both would’ve been correct. Fuck. I wanted her again. Right fucking now. And look, there she was, under me, ready and waiting.

  “Now. Once more, my sweet.” Being just a whore might have been the easier path for her, I thought. Easier for us both, perhaps. But it was too late now. I was just as lost as she. I knew it with the ache of my need. I repositioned us, reaching for the bed-table drawer. “I promise, you’re going to like this, too, by the end.”

  “No-o…” But her voice and wet eyes lied. I felt her squeeze me inside, trying to devour me whole.

  That’s my girl.

  NECESSITIES FOR A PERFECT MARRIAGE

  Ashley Lister

  Nikki screamed as she pulled open the washing machine door. The bundle of towels spilled out. Swirls of pink and crimson patterned the formerly bland cream fabric. She had never seen a more chilling sight in the goriest of horror movies. The wedding present from Josh’s favorite aunt, a set of expensive cream towels from the exclusive department store Sampsons, was now ruined.

  This couldn’t be happening in the first month of their marriage. She had taken an extra week off work after the honeymoon to settle into married life and organize the home so it was ready for two newly wedded professionals to use as a sanctuary, haven and love-nest.

  But this disaster looked set to destroy everything.

  If Josh found out she had ruined the gift from his favorite aunt he would be hurt. He might suspect she had some Freudian motive for ruining the gift. At best he would think her incompetent. At worst, it would sow the first seed of imperfection in their otherwise idyllic relationship.

  She shook her head. Set her jaw. Checked her watch.

  There was time to avoid disaster if she acted quickly.

  She threw the towels into the rubbish. Thinking fast, she stepped out of her panties and then smoothed her skirt down over her hips. Taking two bottles of his favorite imported beer from the fridge, she snatched her purse and car keys and headed out of the house. Her heart raced as she rushed through the end-of-day traffic. She parked in the underground lot near Josh’s office just as he was walking toward his BMW.

  Her window was already rolled down. She leaned out and called, “Hi handsome!”

  His grin combined delight and confusion. “Nikki? What are you doing here?”

  She held up a bottle of beer and winked. “I’ve got a couple of things in this car you might fancy after a long day in the office. Fancy a ride?”

  He glanced toward his own car for a beat. Then he was by her side, hunkered down by the door. Their faces were so close Nikki could have kissed him without moving more than a millimeter.

  “What’s going on?”

  “We’ve been married for nearly three weeks,” she reminded him. “I’m making sure our love life doesn’t turn stale.”

  “And you’re doing that by turning up at my office with beer?”

  She pressed her lips close to his ear. Her voice dropped to a seductive whisper. “Get into the car. You can see what else I’ve got for you.”

  He needed no further prompting.

  As soon as he was in the passenger seat, Nikki pressed the bottle of beer into his hand. She took a quick glance through the windshield, assuring herself that their location was discreet, and then she lowered her head over his lap.

  “Nikki?”

  She said nothing. Instead, she stroked the shape of his hardness through his suit pants. He was already aroused. The length of his erection sat fat and desirable beneath the fabric. She guessed the suggestiveness of her whisper had charmed him to a state of semihardness. As she pulled his zipper slowly down the electric atmosphere inside the car became more charged.

  “Nikki?”

  “Drink your beer,” she urged. “There’s something I’ve got to do.”

  She exposed the thick pink flesh of his erection. He was already perfumed with the scent of arousal. She traced a tongue against his hardness and then sucked gently on the swollen purple dome.

  Josh stiffened in his seat. “This is too intense. I can’t hold back much longer.”

  “Hold it as long as you can.” She breathed the words warmly against his erection. He twitched and pulsed beneath every syllable. “Let me taste your cock until I’m swallowing every drop that you shoot into my mouth.”

  Josh groaned.

  Nikki wrapped her lips around him and worked her mouth up and down his length. The end of his erection pressed against the back of her throat. She sucked greedily, anxious to please him with as much intensity as the moment would allow. When he finally exploded she was rewarded with the rich taste of his warm, pulsing ejaculate as it swathed her tongue.

  She grinned at him as she swallowed. Never allowing their
eye contact to break, she licked her lips theatrically. “Fasten your seat belt. I’m taking you home for an encore.”

  “What about my car?”

  “You’ve just had a beer. Your car will be safe here overnight. I’ll bring you back to work in the morning and you can drive it home tomorrow night.”

  He nodded. “Are we going anywhere else first?”

  “One stop in the town center, and then I’m taking you home to ravish you again.” She said nothing more until she was parking outside the town center’s most prestigious department store.

  “Sampsons?” Josh raised an eyebrow. “What do you need from Sampsons?”

  She took his and hand guided it to her knee. Urging his fingers upward, beneath the hem of her skirt, she allowed him to trace the moist flesh of her labia. “I don’t have any lingerie sexy enough for the man I want to excite,” she whispered. “I need to buy something that will drive him crazy with desire.”

  His cheeks flushed. Although he had only just climaxed she could see a promising bulge at the front of his pants.

  “Do you want me to come with you?”

  She giggled. “You’re going to come with me as soon as we get home. Let me make this purchase alone so I can surprise you.” Passing him the second bottle of beer she added, “Drink this. I’ll be back as quick as I can.”

  And then she was out of the car. Smoothing her skirt back into place, hurrying into the shop, she tried not to think of the ache in her loins that his touch had inspired. She went briskly to bathroom accessories and bought a new set of towels identical to the wedding present. They weren’t cheap. Nikki was devastated to think she had blown a week’s wages on purchasing the replacements. As soon as they were packed for her, Nikki rushed off to the lingerie department. She bought a single black thong.