Watching Me, Watching You

by Gwennan Thomas

  Her voice shocked me. She had a cultured Edinburgh accent, the kind of posh Scots that oozes respectability and reliability. It was completely at odds with the girl’s occupation. Phil introduced her as Serena, internationally acclaimed adult entertainment star. Serena, her voice sending shivers down my spine, linked her arm in mine, and she and Phil led me away.

  Our destination was a luxury lingerie stall. Gorgeous confections in silk and lace were tastefully displayed, but I had no time to admire them. The proprietor, a handsome woman wearing some of her own luscious creations, handed Phil two large carrier bags. She gave me an appreciative glance and indicated one of the changing cubicles. Serena bustled me into the small canvas booth, followed by Phil and the bags. This was going to be another tight squeeze! Although it was quite pleasant to be sandwiched between Serena and Phil, I didn’t see how this would work. We couldn’t move. Then Serena undid a tie on the canvas wall of the cubicle and it folded open, revealing a small space. This was formed by the changing rooms and the back of the stands in the next aisle – our own tiny playground hidden in the middle of the exhibition. It wasn’t big enough to lie down in, but there was room for three to stand comfortably.

  Phil said, ‘We’re going to change you. It’s time to reveal your true nature … Of course, the magic won’t work if you watch.’ He pulled a thick velvet blindfold from one of the bags and moved behind me.

  Serena told him to wait and she kissed me.

  She held my chin, tilting my head slightly, then her mouth brushed mine. The tip of her tongue tentatively found the gap between my lips and probed gently. Sighing, I parted them, allowing her tongue to slide in, seeking my own, touching and teasing it. She tasted honey-sweet. Suddenly, I was kissing her back. My lips pressed tightly against her mouth. My tongue sought hers, twining round and pushing into her. I embraced her slender body, pulling her to me and kissing her harder. Our bodies and mouths locked together … Then, gently, Serena withdrew, smiling but holding us apart now.

  I longed for her. My nipples were engorged, sensitive against my clothing, my vagina wet, and my clitoris, already aching, swelled more. I felt the soft brush of fabric on my head and the blindfold covered my eyes. Then two kisses on my neck and Phil was right behind me – the touch of his hard cock against my bottom now familiar.

  Serena kissed my mouth again and I heard and felt the zip on my dress being pulled down. The straps were eased off my shoulders and the garment slid down my body to the floor. The kiss went on. Now I was in a dreamlike state, the darkness enhancing my senses. The sounds of rustling cloth and skin brushing skin, the smell of Serena’s perfume, of Phil’s body, the musky smell from the juices oozing from my pussy, all combined to make me dizzy. My bra was unfastened and slipped off. My breasts were held. Phil’s hands cupped them, squeezing gently.

  Serena’s mouth found my right nipple, her tongue circling and then flicking the sensitive bud. Her lips closed around it, toying with it. Then she sucked hard, pulling it fully into her mouth, pinching and stretching it and teasing it with her tongue. She moved to the other nipple, her mouth working the same magic. As Phil’s hands moved down, unfastening my stockings and suspender belt, Serena’s wonderful tongue moved to my belly, playing with my navel, tickling. My tits, the nipples standing out stiff and hard, tingled as the air dried Serena’s kisses.

  My suspender belt was removed and I felt Phil’s hands brush my pussy as he rolled down a stocking. My cunt was soaking, the slippery fluid tricking down my thighs, touched again as Phil removed the other stocking. Then he was behind me again, holding me, caressing my breasts and stomach. He pulled me into his body, his jeans-clad shaft rigid and straining against my backside. Cunt throbbing, aching, I yearned to feel him inside me.

  I convulsed as something flicked my clit, flicked it again and again. Serena’s magic tongue began licking the swollen bud, circling it as she had my nipples, sucking it, throbbing, into her mouth. Phil held my naked, shaking body, toying with my breasts, rubbing my belly and pressing his cock against my bottom. I felt the tension grow again, building swiftly. The concentration on my clit was becoming unbearable, my orgasm approaching too quickly. As though sensing this, Serena moved her attention to my labia. She kissed them, her tongue probing the slit in between, echoing how it had first flicked into my mouth. My cunt lips parted, drawing her tongue in. Thrusting deeply, she began to lick, exploring the velvet walls, probing my G-spot. Teasing at first, then in earnest, she stabbed and sucked hungrily. My climax was building now and the walls of my cunt contracted, gripping her. Phil’s hand moved down, stroking and pressing my clit and I came. I cried out, my hips thrusting forward and my cunt clenching as though trying to swallow that lovely tongue. I leaned back panting, floating in the darkness, Phil holding me, as my orgasm slowly ebbed away.

  When I could breathe normally and stand unaided, they dressed me. Serena guided me to step into a garment. Phil pulled it up. I felt the caress of soft fabric against my skin as he fastened it. My breasts were not covered. Stockings were rolled up my legs, hold-ups gripping my thighs. I gasped as my pussy was kissed. Then knickers were pulled up, adjusted and smoothed into place. Shoes were put on my feet and Phil’s voice said, ‘All ready?’ The blindfold was removed.

  Blinking in the light I saw Serena gazing at me. ‘You’re beautiful,’ she whispered.

  I was dressed in a costume very much like hers, a basque, tiny G-string, stockings and stilettos. My breasts showed above the basque. My clothes were pure white, contrasting with my darker skin and hair. Phil and Serena led me through the cubicle. I looked at myself in the mirror – I was beautiful. My skin was flushed and glowing and my breasts, larger than Serena’s, stood out full and proud, the nipples huge, still engorged and very dark.

  Serena kissed me, gently, sweetly, almost shyly. As she left she whispered, ‘Thank you.’

  I think I was in love with her.

  Phil and I were left in the great hall. I felt high as a kite, drunk on sex and excitement. I was a goddess, hot and horny, dressed like a porn queen. I basked in the admiration I was receiving. Here, in this temple of the erotic, I was a star. Everyone passing stared at me, at my naked tits and the tiny cloth, already damp, that covered my pussy. My sexuality was blatant and on display.

  I had Phil too, his teasing cockiness replaced by a mixture of adoration and sexual desire. His penis was still hard, clearly outlined and straining against his jeans. I remembered that he hadn’t had any release. All the attention had been lavished on me. He had given so much and received nothing. I’d had a shattering mega-orgasm and the one of most sensuous experiences of my life. I should have been sated, but I wasn’t. Looking at Phil’s cock I suddenly wanted, desperately, to be fucked by him. I felt a wave of panic as I realised it was getting late. The exhibition would close in less than two hours. I would have to leave and go home to my family. It couldn’t end without that final consummation.

  Phil held my hands. I felt the tension in him, saw lust, hunger and love in his face. His voice thick with emotion, he asked was I satisfied. Did I want anything else?

  I knew then he already had something planned, the clever, clever, wonderful man! I looked into his eyes, my own gaze matching his intensity. I said slowly, enunciating each syllable viscously, ‘If you don’t take me somewhere and lay me down and fuck me, I will kill you!’

  The effect was electric. Phil ran, dragging me with him, through the hall. The crowd leaped aside and stared, stunned by the sight of us – Phil with his erection huge and straining his pants, me with my tits bouncing, and both of our faces twisted in a grimace of lust. Up the stairs, around the gallery, breathless, Phil fumbling in his pocket for a swipe card, through a door marked “Staff Only”. A short corridor, then through another door marked “First Aid – Private”. He pushed me in, threw the bags on the floor and slammed the door shut behind us.

  I looked round the room. I saw the bed and didn’t look any further. Phil picked me up and threw me on it, tearing off my t
hong in the same movement. I reached out to undo his jeans but he was already pulling them down and kicking off his shoes. He wasn’t wearing pants. His cock sprang free, jutting up, rigid. He paused briefly to put on a condom but there was no foreplay, no caresses or kisses. We were both ready, desperate.

  I opened my legs. My pussy was flooded, sopping wet and gaping wide. Phil leaped on the bed between my thighs. With an animal grunt, he thrust into me. His shaft entered me easily, sliding deep into my slippery cunt. I wrapped my legs around him, drawing him in further, thrusting my hips up, grinding my pussy into his groin. There was no finesse, just a fast, desperate coupling, Phil’s hands on my arse, gripping tight as he pulled me onto him.

  Panting, our hearts pounding, the climax came quickly. Phil came first, his cock suddenly getting even bigger, his thrusts more frenzied in the seconds before his come gushed out. Moments later, my own orgasm hit – my pussy spasmed, closing round the hard cock inside me, holding it tight as we rode the long, rolling waves of pleasure. We lay together, still joined, till the passion subsided, then dozed for a while, side by side on the narrow bed.

  Phil recovered first. He kissed my throat, waking me. He stood and gazed at me. Smiling, he asked if I was satisfied now. I was. But he looked so good standing there naked, his penis beautiful, its purple head glistening. I might have been satisfied already, but I’m such a greedy girl! I stroked it, licked its smooth head, lapping a moist, salty bead from its tip. Then I flicked my tongue down to his balls, tasting my own juices on them.

  “What time is it?” I asked.

  I had an hour, a whole unhurried hour, a bed and him.

  On the train home, dressed in my ordinary clothes – sans knickers, which Phil had kept – I dozed and dreamed. I was looking forward to seeing hubby, smiling as I imagined the effect my porn star costume would have on him. I smiled again as I thought of writing up my Erotica adventure – who would imagine it had happened for real when I scarcely believed it myself?

  Again, my mind drifted to Phil. How could he have known so much about me? Known exactly what I wanted, how I longed to become Bella? Who was Phil? Then, as I looked through the carrier bags, full of my Erotica goodies, I found that special “microphone” vibrator, and a glossy business card, very similar to my own.

  “Philippa Blaise: Author of Erotic Fiction for Women.”

  Philippa! My fellow writer, my closest internet friend and confidante. Phil was Philippa. I’d had no idea!

  Next time I logged on, I would have a few things to say to her … er, him!

  Coming Attractions

  by Landon Dixon

  I guess you could say I had my “coming out” coming in.

  I’d just turned 18 and gotten a job at this department store when I met Chris. He was a year older than I was, had been at the store a year longer. So, he showed me the ropes. As it turned out, in more ways than one.

  I liked the guy right off. He was friendly and fun to be around, and (although I wouldn’t have admitted it at the time) good-looking and, OK, damn sexy. He was about medium-height, shorter than me, with a slim, tight body and smooth, tanned skin, a delicately-chiselled face featuring sultry brown eyes and suckable red lips, a dimpled chin. He sort of looked like James Dean to my … I don’t know. Chris O’Donnell?

  He always wore just a simple white T-shirt and faded blue jeans and scuffed sneakers. But that shirt and those jeans fitted him like velvet gloves, hugging to the taut curves of his butt cheeks, highlighting the protruding puffiness of his nipples. Our job was to stock the shelves between the store shutting at night and opening the next day, so we worked some strange hours, close together. And I started to get some strange ideas because of him.

  I guess I’d always been gay, of course, but I just wouldn’t, or wasn’t ready to, admit it. Sure as shooting wasn’t ready to admit it to my parents, whose house I was still living in. I’d had a couple of awkward encounters with guys at school – wrestling in the locker room and shower after volleyball and lacrosse practice – some quick, innocent grip and gropes. But I was still dating girls at the time I met Chris, trying to work up some sexual enthusiasm for the female of the species that I just wasn’t feeling. I loved hanging out with women, but I wasn’t loving the idea of hooking up with them, so I hadn’t.

  My second morning on the job, Chris invited me over to his place to play video games after work. I admired him for having his own place, and his taste in recreational activities. ‘Just buzz me,’ he said, ‘and I’ll leave the door open for you – come right on inside.’

  I said, ‘I’ll be there.’ And he gave me the address.

  Turned out it was a 20-storey apartment building in the funky section of town. I kind of wondered at the time where Chris got the money for rent, since the pay we were getting was barely above minimum wage and the hours well below living wage. I later found out he had lots of friends, many with “benefits” that they bestowed on the handsome hunk.

  Anyway, I buzzed his apartment number – 1514 – and got an answering buzz in return. I opened the inner door on the lobby and walked to the elevators. And when I walked down the hallway to his apartment on the 15th floor, sure enough the door was open. Only, there was no Chris standing behind it, or in the living room or the connecting kitchen to greet me. The place seemed to be deserted. Until I walked down the hall and peeked in the cracked-open door of the bathroom. And then I got an eye and crotchful.

  Chris was standing in front of the sink gazing into the huge mirror on the wall. The guy had his white T-shirt rolled up almost to his chin, and he was admiring his face and chest in the mirror, striking poses. His chest was as smooth and sunkissed as his arms, pecs two small humps tipped by lighter-brown, puffy nipples. His blondish-brown wavy hair shone under the lights, his eyes, I swear, twinkling as he sucked in his stomach and popped out his chest, tilted his hips. He could model for me anytime. My face and body warmed, something stirring in my balls.

  I wasn’t sure if I should say something to announce my presence, or just see where the show would go next. I chose to see where the show would go next, when Chris slowly slid his hands up from his narrow hips and onto his chest, circled his forefingers around his nipples. I gulped and glared through the crack, staring in the mirror like he was. The guy swirled his soft, rounded fingertips around and around the pebbly bumps of his wide, darker-brown areolas, and I could clearly see his big nipples stiffen with the twirling sensations.

  I held my breath and silently pulled my own tee out of my jeans, pulled it up over my nipples. And when I twirled my areolas like the honey in the mirror, I almost gasped right out loud. My pink pebbles were prominent, my pink nipples hardened stiff as they would go. I hadn’t realised just how excited I’d gotten just watching the guy play with his chest.

  He slid two slender brown fingers and thumbs along either side of his nipples, gently pinched and rolled, his pouty lips forming an O. I did the same, and was jolted with feeling, electricity arcing from the charged plugs of my nipples and coursing all through my body, making my cock surge. I had to bite my lip to keep from crying out.

  We rolled our nipples together, pulled on them, teasing the rubbery protuberances to sing the body electric, as someone once said. My cock swelled up even bigger and harder, just fingering my nips, watching Chris finger his.

  Until the mesmerizing mirror reflection suddenly unlatched his fingers from his chest and rolled down his T-shirt and tucked. He took a last look at himself in the mirror and then turned to leave the bathroom. I barely pulled my fingers free and shirt down in time, took off down the hall like a shot. I had to keep my back to the guy for two minutes or so, to allow my cock to fully deflate to normal, undetectable dimensions.

  He beat me at every video game we played. I guess my mind – and my mind’s eye – were elsewhere.

  Chris invited me over again at the end of the work week – for pizza and beers and a movie. I accepted without hesitation, maybe a little too enthusiastically. I’d become almost infatua
ted with the guy, watching his every move at work, sort of rubbing up against him or slapping him on the back or patting him on the arm whenever it seemed appropriate. I could hardly control myself. He didn’t seem to mind, either. He took it all good-naturedly. But he didn’t really respond, neither, except as one friendly co-worker to another. I was woefully unskilled in the art of man-on-man flirtation, having had virtually no experience.

  I buzzed his number again, got buzzed inside again. His door was open. I entered. And just like last time, no Chris. To the naked eye, anyway – in his living room, kitchen, or bathroom. But to the naked wide eye: nude Chris in his bedroom.

  I’d caught the guy in middle of a self-pleasure session. His bedroom door was half-open, and he was sitting up on his bed, his back propped up against the headboard, his body totally, stunningly nude. My jaw dropped and my jeans almost popped. I hugged the wall alongside the door, staring into his bedroom, at his sleek, smooth, sunbronzed body. I’d gotten half of the erotic picture the time before – the upper-body half – but now I was getting the really good parts, in living, lusting colour.

  His lithe legs were spread, and he had his cock in his hand, his balls in his other hand. He was stroking and squeezing, his eyes directed in the opposite direction from me at his laptop up on a dresser. His cock was absolutely towering, smooth-skinned and cut and sculpturously capped, his large balls shaven bare. They and he took my breath away; the way he was swirling his soft hand up and down his length, cupping and fondling with his other sensitive hand, made me choke up with emotion, swell up with sensation. The movie playing on the laptop was a gay skin flick, two naked guys jerking each other off.

  My nails dug paint out of the wall, splinters out of the doorframe. But Chris was completely oblivious to me, taken up with the sexy task at … hands. It was a picture worth a thousand spurts, the room glowing with late-afternoon sunshine, Chris’ body burning before my eyes, his cock and balls and the sensual way he was working them making me blaze with passion.