We ordered fruity, girly drinks in bright bold colours and went around the room sharing our fondest of my hellish dating moments – from the blind date with the guy who was over a foot shorter than me, to the one who immediately started talking about the upcoming baseball season after he came, with no apology or segue. Then came the gifts – mostly “naughty” items found in the tackiest of sex shops, like penis-shaped chocolates and a veil with little penises pinned all over it. Anything goes when you’re getting married, I guess.
We were having so much fun, just like the old days, when all of a sudden Stacy leaped up and said, “It’s time.” She pulled a black satin blindfold from her pocket and proceeded to wrap it around my head. I couldn’t see a thing but could sense the commotion in the room. “Get ready, Corinne, because we have a very special treat for you.”
They spun me around – just once, thankfully – and then undid the blindfold, presenting me with one of the most gorgeous men I’d ever seen. I figured there would be a stripper – these were my friends, after all – but one who looked like this? He was young, probably early twenties, and muscular, but not overly muscular like a bodybuilder – they sometimes look to me like their muscles are on the outside when they should be on the inside. No, his muscles gleamed and strutted, pushing gently up through his skin. He had dark brown hair, and a natural-looking tan, and he was tall. And most of all, he was smiling right at me; not a cheesy “I’m here to please you” smile, but what seemed like a real one. I melted into the chair and smiled back, drunk on the gloriousness of having my very own stripper. He had on black jeans and a white ribbed tank top, leather jacket slung over his shoulder.
The music started up right away and we all sat and watched as he expertly moved across the floor, occasionally approaching us and shimmying right up in one of our faces, maybe touching a strand of hair or stroking a cheek, the consumate seducer, knowing full well the effect he was having on us. When I glanced around at my friends, many of them were fanning their necks with the programmes Stacy had made, clearly affected as well. And I just sat there, stunned, my panties suddenly very, very wet. I wanted him, not for a lifetime, but I definitely wanted something more than a mere striptease from this gorgeous hunk, who seemed to be making special eyes at me while he worked the room.
He beckoned me forward with a crooked finger, and on shaky legs I stood up and walked close to him, and let him whisk me around the room, occasionally catching a whiff of him – sweat and salt and man, all rolled into the perfect aphrodisiac. He put my hand flat on his chest and held it there a moment, then lifted me up and carried me back to my seat. Everyone oohed and aahed and tried to get a closer peek as he lavished me with attention. I wondered if my wedding day would be like this – all eyes on me (probably) and feeling like the sexiest, most desired woman ever (maybe). But there was also something else; I wanted this man, this stripper, this hunk who now seemed to only have eyes for me.
It didn’t make sense, logically, but so what? I felt young and wild and naughty, like I was sneaking out of my parents’ house to make out in my boyfriend’s car, yet this was almost worse because I was old enough to know better. But I knew none of the girls would blame me; he was too hot to resist, especially when he picked me up, in the chair, and carried me into a back room. “Excuse me, ladies, but I just need your friend Corinne here for a few minutes and then I’ll bring her back to you, good as new.”
After that stunning exit, he moved us to our own small room, one I hadn’t noticed before, and began telling me again how hot he thought I was. He also started showing me, running his hands up and down my filmy dress, then up, up, up my skirt until he reached my now wet panties. With one hand he pressed my panties up against me, almost entering me, and with the other he stroked his cock, clearly visible through the white fabric. He pressed up against me, so close I could feel his hand moving along his cock, and I leaned back in the chair, knowing he’d catch me if I started to tilt. His fingers slid underneath the edge of my panties, and I didn’t stop him. They stroked along my lips, teasing the wetness there, and I spread my legs almost involuntarily. This was the most hedonistic thing I’d ever done, pure sexual arousal, raw and concentrated, without the baggage of dating and waiting and trying to make a good impression. The only thing I needed to do for this anonymous man was be wet, want him, let him in, and I did. He pushed his fingers deeply inside me and though basically pinned to the chair, I arched up to meet him, his cock pressing against my stomach, its starchy, sweaty smell reaching my nose and making me lick my lips. Part of me wished we were somewhere else, somewhere more private, with a bed, a more traditional place so I could lie down and truly let him have his way with me, but I also knew if we were in a bedroom this wouldn’t be happening. It was only the club, the party, the sense of this being the last day before the first day of the rest of my married life, or close enough to it, that allowed me to go this far.
But what about him? What did he do every other night – seduce a new girl for money? Great life for a guy. So used to dealing with practicalities before I could get off, my mind kept wandering afield but I reined it back in, tuned it out as he pressed deeper into me. As much as I might have wanted to think cynically about him, I couldn’t. He wasn’t some random hooker, a common whore, but the first guy since Ben to make me feel this way, alive and electric with desire, my skin tingling. I pushed any possible doubts out of my mind and simply revelled in the way he touched me. I could see my friends peeking into the room but I didn’t care. I closed my eyes as he whispered into my ear, a steady flow of dirty words that I knew weren’t really true but sent me orbiting nonetheless.
“You’re the hottest girl here, the hottest bride I’ve ever seen. I’ve been hard since the minute I saw you. I want to make you come so hard you’ll feel it tomorrow morning.”
I took in his words, felt the visceral impact when he told me he was going to squeeze my nipples and slide his hard cock into me; they are simple but incredible words, powerful enough to make me wet the moment I heard them, the moment his breath hit my neck right below my ear. I wasn’t about to go all the way, because I didn’t need to; just the suggestion of it, the knowledge that in a fast move he could be up inside me, his hard, huge dick stretching and plundering me, taking me in a way Ben is far too considerate to do, was enough.
I leaned back, my hair falling in a long row behind me, willing him to suckle my neck. Like some magical sexual fairy, he moved from my breasts to my neck, which by then was ticklish and itching to be bitten, clawed, scratched. He sank his teeth into this most tender of flesh, with no warning that his bite will be so harsh and sharp. He seemed to anticipate what I needed before I could verbalize or even think it, teasing my neck with tiny testing bites that built one on top of the other in the very same spot. His bites fulfilled some special sexual need I have, complete in itself, and when he licked softly over the reddened skin, I felt like I could die right there.
“Was that enough for you?” he whispered with a growl, clearly certain that it wasn’t.
Suddenly, what was enough just moments ago is far from it, and I wanted more, any possible guilt at going this far assuaged by the knowledge that Ben was probably off doing much the same, or at least he would if he could, and besides, once we were married I’d be loyal to him for the rest of my life, just as I’d been loyal to him for the three years we’d been together. And what’s more, even if my conscience had wanted me to, I couldn’t have stopped there, especially not when his fingers pressed against my wet panties, pushing the fabric right up against my eager cunt, then taking his other hand and drawing it to his hard cock. We stroked each other through our underwear and when his fingers slipped inside my panties, I spread my legs eagerly, not caring where or who we were, simply that I needed him inside me. While his fingers entered me, pressing deeply where I needed him the most, he straddled me, and I could feel his cock, his strong legs as he gave me the most intimate kind of lap dance imaginable, his body locked on mine.
I nuzzled his chest, rubbing my lips and cheeks back and forth against the strength of him, then licking my way towards a small, pert nipple that seemed to call out to me. I licked it at first, felt it get slightly harder and tighter, then brought my teeth around it. He hissed and grabbed my head but didn’t stop me, so I kept it up, teasing and working his nipple as guys had done to me before. I wondered if it felt the same for him, if with every twist and bite of my teeth he felt a deep urgent pull in his groin, a need that drove him mad with desire. My guess was yes because after a moment he did stop me, pulling my head up and staring directly and intently into my eyes. “I want you. I know this is my job, but please believe me when I tell you it’s not like this with all the girls. I give them a little tease, a little show, and then I’m home, but you, you’re incredible, irresistible. Your husband is going to be a lucky man, but for tonight, I want you, I want to slide my cock into you and fuck you like you’ve never been fucked before. I want to make you come right here in this chair.”
Nobody had ever talked to me like that before and I was so tempted that I almost gave in. “I want you, too, but I just can’t let you fuck me; that would be going to far. But pretty much anything else is fair game . . .” I trailed off as I wrapped my hand around his dick, moving my gaze from his warm cock to his blazing eyes which seemed to want to penetrate me in their own way. He brought his fingers from my cunt to my mouth, and I suckled my own juices from them, then pulled his fat fingers into me while he pushed them towards the back of my throat. I automatically reached for his cock, wanting it in my mouth, to taste it if I wasn’t going to have it inside me, but he pushed me aside and kneeled before me. He edged my panties down my legs and off, then pushed my legs aside and began licking me, long, warm strokes along the length of my slit that ended in a slow finish at my clit and had me gripping the chair and biting my lip so as not to scream out. His tongue and lips expertly worked me, licking and plunging and nibbling, pressing harder just when I needed it. My legs trembled as he tugged on my clit and when he pushed a finger inside me, I came, shaking against the chair as he stayed with me for the ride. He licked up every last drop of my juices before moving to kiss me, giving me a taste of myself.
When we finally emerged, sweaty and a bit red-faced, my friends all had drinks in their hands. He left soon thereafter, and I rejoined my friends like none of it had ever happened.
When Ben gets home and finds me in the slip dress, he always gives me a funny little look, his eyes asking “Why are you wearing that sexy thing just to lie around the house?” That’s for me to know, and him to hopefully never find out!
Corporate Blonde
Violet (Vancouver, Canada)
Thanks to an ultra-strict upbringing, and the fact that I still live at home, what little sex life I have takes place mostly inside my head. I’ve got a vivid imagination, and it serves me well on long, cold, lonely winter nights – any nights, and most every day, for that matter.
Since I don’t go out a lot, I don’t meet a lot of people outside of work, so it’s the people at work that I usually fantasize about, along with movie, TV, and pop stars, of course. And the only woman I’ve ever kissed in my life was my grandmother, and the only woman’s legs I’ve ever caressed have been my own, but that doesn’t stop my dirty little mind from percolating with naughty thoughts about wild lesbian sex – lesbian leg sex, no less – with my gorgeous boss.
Laura Danton is the head of the project team I’m currently assigned to. She’s a cool, uber-professional blonde babe with a slim, sleek figure which she always keeps tightly wrapped in the latest and most expensive fashions. She’s a great boss to work for, if a little distant with new employees like myself, but it’s her long, slender, stocking-clad legs that flow out of her dangerously short skirts like shimmering black or white twin waterfalls that really make me admire, and mentally seduce, her.
I lie back in my warm bed, or hot bath, and touch myself all over, thinking about Laura and me working late one night, when I just happen to notice a run in her silky, shiny, shadow-black stockings . . .
She’d just propped her ballerina legs up on her gleaming desktop and crossed them, and right away my leg-sensitive eye picked out the one inch breach in the sheer, black stocking on her right leg. The tiny tear exposed a small section of her brown, lightly muscled calf. I gulped and stared fixedly at those tawny legs, at that wicked violation in the structural integrity of her sexy leg coverings. Thoughts of work sailed out of my dizzy head and thoughts of making love to those luscious limbs cascaded in.
She looked at me as I gazed blankly at her entwined, silk-sheathed legs. “Is there a problem, Violet?” she asked.
I blinked several times in an effort to clear my foggy brain, and my lustful leg musings partially dissipated. I crossed my own legs and gladly felt a well-known wetness. “Huh? Oh, no, Ms Danton. I was just thinking about something, that’s all. Sorry.” I stared down at the files that were strewn all over the table I was working at, my face flaming red.
“Laura,” Ms Danton said.
I looked up. “Huh?”
“Laura. Call me Laura. ‘Ms Danton’ makes me feel like I’m a thousand years old, when I’m only twenty or so years older than you are,” she remarked with a smile.
“Uh, okay, sure, Ms – Laura.” My eyes froze again on that winking rent in her night-shaded stocking. I could almost feel and taste the warm, firm, sun-kissed flesh that lay exposed by that heavenly tear.
“You sure there isn’t anything wrong, Violet?” Laura asked again, her azure eyes boring into mine.
I glanced back and forth between her graceful, folded legs – that erotic run in her shimmering stocking – and her beautiful, quizzical face. She was wearing a flawless, pearl-white, silk top and a short, black-leather skirt, and, of course, those shiny, noir leg-wraps. Her black stilettos lay discarded somewhere beneath her desk.
“Well?”
I sucked some humid air into my overwrought lungs, fought to steady my spinning head, and decided to make my move. Coming on to your boss is a perilous, potentially career-ending manoeuvre at the best of times, even more so when you’re not even sure that she shares your affinity for girls, as well as boys; but Laura’s gorgeous legs were driving me crazy, and I just had to find out if I could possess their lithesome beauty or not. So, I stood up and walked slowly and shakily over to her desk.
“Urn, yeah . . . Laura,” I mumbled, “there is something wrong. Y – you’ve got a run in your stocking.” And I reached out a trembling digit and touched her bare skin. Her leg jerked, then quivered slightly as I ran my slender finger back and forth along the sliver of bronzed flesh that had been exposed by the break in her inky stocking.
She bit her lip. “D – do I?” she stammered, making it the first time that I’d ever seen the in-control career woman flustered.
That made two of us. But I knew what I wanted, and although I’m only nineteen years old, I’m not shy about going after something I want – till I get it. I gently caressed Laura’s smooth skin, brought a second finger into play so that I was blatantly fondling a small portion of her slim leg.
“You sure do,” I breathed in answer to her rhetorical question. “And I think it’s getting bigger.” I pushed against the clingy edges of the small tear with my twitching fingers, expanding it, exposing and stroking more and more of her naked, sun-burnished leg flesh.
She gasped, and her eyelids dropped down to shade her sky-blue eyes as I reverentially rubbed her calf with my long fingers. Her legs shook and grew goosebumps, and as I stared meaningfully at her, my bold digits working their erotic magic on her to-die-for legs, I saw her nipples flower to arousal and indent the thin material of her top.
Yes! The oh-so-hot, yet outwardly oh-so-cool, mature babe was getting as turned on as I was. She licked her glossy lips with a pink, kittenish tongue, and let her appraising eyes wander up and down my girlish figure, before refocusing on what was truly important – my fingers and her leg. I swallowed hard and pushed my
whole hand through the opening in her ravaged stocking, rested it on her sublime leg and squeezed.
“Yes, Violet,” she murmured, dropping the file she’d been holding and cupping and kneading her firm tits, discarding all pretence that we could ever keep things on a strictly professional basis from here on out. There were some things even more important than business, after all.
“Yes, Laura,” I agreed, and savagely grabbed up and tore the shiny fabric of her stocking with both my hands, ripping it until it lay shredded from ankle to skirt. I wasn’t holding anything back; I wanted those seductive, golden legs in my hands and mouth – now!
“I want to suck your toes!” I yelled, my soft hands sliding all over her brown skin, caressing and fondling her glistening limb.
She was taken aback by my towering need. “Uh, well, Violet, I’m, uh, expecting my boyfriend anytime soon. He was –”
“Fuck your boyfriend!” I shouted.
She stared wide-eyed at me, then hastily nodded her head. She pulled her legs away from me, swung them off the desk and onto the carpet, then stood up and quickly unbuttoned and shrugged off her blouse, unzipped her skirt and let it puddle at her stockinged feet. Then she unhooked and tossed aside her satiny, white bra and stood there a moment, letting me admire her nude, sun-buffed upper body, her firm, ripe boobs and jutting, mocha nipples. There was just one problem: her luscious legs were now hidden behind her desk.
The Mammoth Book of Women's Erotic Fantasies Page 36