Backdoor Pleasures

by Alex Algren

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  SPEED BUMPS

  SIMPLICITY

  ANAL-YZED

  THE BIRTHDAY TREAT

  ANAL SUBMISSION… OR NOT

  VERONICA’S ASS

  ABOUT THE AUTHORS

  Copyright Page

  SPEED BUMPS

  Tenille Brown

  Sunny checked her watch before she gripped the bars on her bike tighter, bending low to take the curve. She would be there in less than five minutes. She had been shooting for fifteen, had wanted to be very casual and nonchalant about it, but that was the thing about motorcycles; they always made you appear too eager, even when the intent was to make ’em wait awhile.

  In this case, she was referring to her lover, Trip. He hadn’t always been the patient type. Sunny had used it to her advantage back then, making Trip wait until he was almost crazy, but he had somehow learned patience over the last few months, that and other things, and it was just something else about Trip that Sunny had to learn to get used to.

  Trip—Trenton Louis Hill, III—had taught her to ride, had even given her the name she now claimed like a possession. Sunny...for the glow on her wide, happy face, for the little yellow tattoo on her right asscheek, for the way he felt when she pressed that soft, tender ass up against him.

  Sunny slowed, smiling smugly at the rumble and pop of her bike because no matter how many times she heard it, it still excited her, and came to a stop at the light. She nodded to her right at a twentysomething fellow with spiked yellow hair sitting and grinning at her in a red convertible. He revved his engine. She revved hers back. She could have him and five more just like him if she wanted, but these days, in the ever-present age of the cougar, Sunny found that cliché.

  Sunny shook her head. It wasn’t the kid’s fault. Twenty years ago she would have been in his league, but this time, he had guessed wrong. Sunny blamed it on her thighs, the way they braced and held her bright yellow Harley in place.

  Sunny had legs for days, and she preferred her skirts short and her shorts—like the denim ones she sported today—even shorter. She was short, barely five feet tall, but she made it count—round little ass, tight waist, and just enough tits to suit her.

  But Sunny preferred her men with a little dust on them.

  And it was her prerogative. She was forty-one years old and had paid her dues. She’d had the husband and the house in the burbs and she’d preferred to let the two remain a set, taking her clothes, her favorite pairs of shoes and calling it a day.

  It was all a part of traveling light, and Sunny knew there was no other way to do it. Trip had known it, too. He was a loner who ran a bar across town, who had mixed her Jack and Coke like he had been doing it since creation. And now, she and Trip, they were in this life together.

  Sunny blew relief from her lips as she pulled into the drive. She parked her Harley next to Trip’s new sensible sedan—she wouldn’t ride in that thing if you paid her—and let herself into the condo.

  It didn’t surprise Sunny to smell baked chicken and fresh kale when she walked in the door. Trip had traded in Chinese takeout for lessons in cooking healthy lately and Sunny was always playing the eager little guinea pig, because she was nothing if not supportive, tasting and trying his new creations. After wrapping her arms around him and squeezing Trip’s middle, Sunny reached in and tore off a piece of chicken.

  The breast was good, light on the butter and salt, but good.

  Trip swatted at her hand.

  “My little speed demon...so anxious.”

  Trip knew Sunny well, but if it weren’t for the ink that decorated his arms, neck and chest, she wouldn’t recognize him at all, wouldn’t remember that he had once been a speed demon, too, a bad boy in every sense of the word.

  The heart attack had changed all that, though.

  He was cooking with his shirt off, the way Sunny preferred it. When Trip turned off the stove, she ran her hands over his dark, fuzzy chest, pausing at the slick scar from his surgery.

  She touched it, now a pale brown line just over his heart. Trip placed his hand over hers. He was remembering, too.

  Sunny didn’t like to think back to the day, but Trip wore a constant reminder of it.

  It was one of the few times Sunny had ever felt fear and the only time Trip had ever seen her cry.

  These days, though, Sunny denied it, said it must have been one of those mirage things Trip was having as he contemplated cascading into the light.

  “We going anywhere tonight, after we eat?” Sunny asked, guiding herself back to the here and now. “There’s a band playing over at Bentley’s. Or did you rent a movie? Did you pick up that action flick I was telling you about?”

  Trip shook his head to all. He cupped her ass inside his big hands and brought her to him, slipping, without warning, his warm tongue inside her mouth.

  He said, “I thought we’d stay in. You’ve been going nonstop for the last three days. How about a little bit of the boob tube and off to bed?”

  Trip winked and handed Sunny a freshly stirred drink.

  Sunny grinned, because that, thankfully, hadn’t changed about him.

  And sure, it wasn’t living on the edge, but it was something, she supposed, and these days Sunny took what she could get, settling on the sofa, remote in hand, sipping on a fucking perfect Jack and Coke.

  There were times when Sunny didn’t mind staying put, like now, when she was cuffed to their four-poster bed, facedown in a mound of pillows, sheets snatched up between her legs.

  She couldn’t see him, but she knew Trip was there, and these were the times Sunny paid the most attention, when she was always on edge, waiting to see what was next.

  Now Trip was running pink feathers over her naked body, pausing now and then to pick up a soft leather strap to spank her eagerly twisting and waiting ass.

  If she knew Trip, and she was sure she did, Sunny expected he would take advantage of how far apart her legs were spread, how wet she had become from his teasing, and take her from behind, fucking her until she whimpered, until she scratched at the sheets and bit the pillows, but Trip surprised her, leaving her dripping-wet pussy alone altogether.

  Sunny was never one to protest, even though simple doggy-style would have suited her just fine. But this, this thing she felt coming, what she could feel in her bones, this was much better than doggy-style. It was better than her top three favorite positions and then some.

  Sunny felt the warm tip of Trip’s tongue at the rim of her ass. He had always loved her ass, had always praised and paid great attention to it. He licked her awhile, poking, prodding and lapping until she was streaming wet there, too.

  “Sweet as pie,” he said, and Sunny smiled, compliment whore that she was.

  And then Trip crawled up behind her, his hands on either side of her arms, his heavy, thick cock swollen and throbbing against her ass and the tops of her thighs.

  Trip was a well-endowed man but he had trained Sunny ever so patiently to get used to him. He eased in slow, steady, always at the absolutely perfect pace. He knew when to be gentle, knew when Sunny was ready for all of him, no holding back.

  Sunny spread her legs as far as they would go. She accepted as much of him as she could stand, grunting at the pain, gushing at the pleasure. And when she felt she could take no more, Trip gave her just that, insisting, determined Sunny could take it.

  Trip had such faith in her, and Sunny wanted to make him proud, so she took it all, gritting her teeth, twisting corners of the sheets until they were wet and wrinkled in her palms.

  He fucked her in the ass, rhythmically stroking in and out, side to side. The weight of his body kept her pinned to the bed and she loved it.

  The feeling wa
s so good that, for the life of her, Sunny couldn’t figure out what she had done to deserve it.

  Had she ironed his shirts?

  No.

  Done the dishes when it wasn’t her turn?

  Definitely not.

  But Sunny knew it didn’t matter why. What mattered was that Trip was there fucking the life out of her until he was ready to erupt.

  It never took Trip long to come when he was in her ass. It was a series of small, sweet tortures as he worked his way in, out a little, back in again. But soon he was coming, hot and furious, semen streaming between Sunny’s cheeks and down her legs.

  But Trip didn’t forget about her, he never did. He reached beneath her and stroked her pussy with his fingers until she came, too, and Sunny lay beneath her man, pillow tucked under her chin, exhausted and sweetly sore.

  And then it came.

  Trip breathed the words on her neck. “I went and looked at a place today. Over in Asheville.”

  There it was, his ulterior motive.

  Sunny could only manage a nod and Trip knew this would be so, had known all the time that when he fucked her like this, it was hard for her mind to multitask.

  She soon realized Trip had planned it this way, wanted her too satiated and tired to protest.

  Sunny turned over. In the brown glow of his eyes, she searched for the Trip that had been there just moments before, fucking her in the ass like a hungry beast, but that Trip was swiftly fading and was being replaced by the Trip of today, post–near death experience.

  Just like a fucking woman, Trip was getting restless, wanted something simpler, something different. Wanted out of the city.

  Sunny gathered her bearings enough to protest.

  “I told you before, there are too many hills there to ride, Trip.”

  It wasn’t much of an excuse, but it was the best she could do given the circumstance. Not that it even applied to Trip anymore. He hadn’t pulled his bike out of the garage since the surgery, and he had been cleared for riding weeks ago.

  Trip shrugged, bright eyes focused on the ceiling.

  “But we could camp, hike. There’s plenty we could do there.”

  Sunny bit on her bottom lip. “Like grow old and wrinkled. Like feel the damp weather in our brittle, tired bones. No thanks, baby.”

  And then there was his impatient voice. His, I’m tired of fucking debating voice. “It’s what people our age do.”

  “Well, some people our age live by the philosophy, if it ain’t broke…” Sunny’s voice trailed off.

  Sunny had gone from satisfied to pissed, from zero to a hundred and fifteen in a matter of seconds. It was always, every time, when she was distracted, when the last things on her mind were mountains and log cabins and hunting their own dinner that he brought it up and ruined everything.

  It was unfair and it was frustratingly ironic.

  He chose now to want to slow down. Whatever happened to living every day like it’s your last? They had a good life. Luck obviously was on Trip’s side. He had survived a fucking heart attack. Now was the time to test the waters, not rush to the shore.

  Even with the heart attack and his aha moment, Sunny found it hard to understand. She wasn’t his China doll, wasn’t his tender little miss, and Trip had appreciated that once. He couldn’t just turn her around like that.

  “You can’t keep running forever, Sunny,” Trip said.

  She could hear the exhaustion in his voice, and she knew that what he was saying was probably true, but for now, right now, she would run until she gave out.

  Sunny threw her legs over the side of the bed.

  “I’m gonna grab a shower. Then I’m going for a ride.”

  “A ride.” Trip repeated the words as if confirming them to himself.

  He shook his head, made Sunny feel like she was pathetic.

  “You could come.” She added it as a hopeful afterthought, a save to what was now a ruined night.

  “I’ll be here when you get back.”

  And she left him there, naked, hands locked behind his head of lion’s hair and for a moment, only a moment, Sunny wondered what it might be like if maybe he wouldn’t, but she quickly dismissed the thought and pulled the bathroom door closed.

  She had treaded lightly long enough to let the mountain talk subside, and now Sunny was taking a misty, summer’s night drive. Out of nowhere she found herself starving, yearning.

  Her cunt, vibrating from the heavy hum of her bike, wanted Trip.

  It would have been easy enough to wait at home for Trip, but Sunny wasn’t the wait at home type, so instead she rode to the darkest part of town.

  She parked in the alley behind Trip’s bar and slipped in the back way.

  Wearing black leather shorts and a matching corset, her beige cleavage resting over the top, Sunny eased up against Trip as he stood at the bar. She wrapped her hands around his waist, let them slide down to the front of his pants and rubbed on his bulge. Fuck whoever was watching.

  The gesture didn’t startle Trip at all. He knew his girl, and he had stopped being mad days ago.

  He said, almost without even looking back at her, “You’re gonna make me forget my orders.”

  Sunny shrugged and pressed her crotch against his ass, which she noted looked exceptionally hot in a pair of dark Levi’s.

  “So give ’em all water,” Sunny said.

  Trip grunted. “I think you just broke a commandment.”

  Sunny sucked her teeth. “Fine. Meet me in five.”

  Trip was there in three.

  He was there in the liquor cabinet, pressing Sunny against the wall with one large hand resting on it and the other working on Sunny’s zipper.

  Sunny’s tongue was in his mouth. She tasted remnants of bourbon. Sunny smiled at this nonconforming part of Trip’s newfound conformity. She fed him continuous mouthfuls of her lips and tongue, trying her damnedest to fill the space of her recent absence.

  Sunny knew how to bring it out of him, knew how to remind Trip that he, too, liked living on the edge, liked pushing until he slammed smack dab into a wall.

  And then, in a flash, Sunny’s shorts skidded down her legs. Trip didn’t bother maneuvering her panties over her waist. He tore them off instead, discarding them on the dusty floor.

  “There you go, baby,” Sunny whispered, her voice low and husky, “you’re still my bad boy.”

  Trip’s velvety, dark pink lips pressed hard against hers, so hard, Sunny thought, Sunny hoped, they would bleed.

  Sunny had learned long ago the art of productive fucking. Eight years in this thing had taught her exactly what it took to get Trip off.

  In her head, Sunny recited the instructions.

  Play with his balls until his cock is so hard against your palms it slaps you five. Then when he’s convinced he’s ready…

  Sunny dropped down to her knees and wrapped her lips around Trip’s cock.

  Head first...he likes that...tongue around the rim…something about the sensation…fingers back on his balls…surprises and fascinates him every time even though you’ve done it a million…there…there…now he’s begging and you don’t give in and when his knees are just about ready to buckle, when his ass and thighs are trembling, when he’s burgundy in the face…then you let go…demand that he save that sweet, hot come just for you…want to feel it inside of you…

  As if on cue, Sunny rose. She sucked on Trip’s neck awhile, then darted her tongue in and out of his ear.

  “Now,” she said in a voice low and hoarse, “you can fuck me. And you’d better fuck me good.”

  And as if the command were its own aphrodisiac, Trip’s cock grew even harder as he lifted Sunny onto his haunches and backed her into the wall. It was cool on her ass.

  She wrapped her pale legs around his dark ones. She grabbed tiny handfuls of his thick, coarse hair, twisted into locks that fell past his shoulders.

  He pushed and pushed, going deeper and deeper. Trip didn’t ask Sunny if it hurt, didn’t seem
to really give a damn if it did.

  And Sunny was wet, wet, wet at the thought of Trip not caring.

  Yes, Trip, think about you right now. Think about us and this moment. The pain doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter if I’m scarred or bruised. It doesn’t matter if I die right here, right now, just…

  “Fuck me.” Sunny was hardly able to manage the words with Trip ramming her until her shoulders, back and pussy throbbed.

  And just before Trip clenched his teeth, just before he was shaking again, Sunny braced her legs around him tighter, tighter than she ever had before and she covered his ever-stroking cock with her glistening orgasm.

  Trip couldn’t hold his own for long after that and he came, his nails clawing at her back, bringing her from the wall to his chest where she panted and said, “So, I’ll see you at home, then.”

  Sunny was riding fast, fast, fast.

  She was on a good stretch of highway, nice, long and smooth. The tar had just been redone. She could smell it.

  Again, she would arrive earlier than she wanted, but it was okay. The wind felt good on her face.

  She saw a curve up ahead; she liked those, liked the roller-coaster type feeling she got when she leaned down, then back up. She liked the way she lost her belly then found it again.

  Then another, and it wasn’t the sharpest of curves, but it caught Sunny off guard all the same and the bike leaned too far to one side.

  For once, Sunny was glad she’d worn pants, tight and low-rise so at least she would look good, tough so that maybe, just maybe she could keep a little of her skin. It was the last thought that ran through Sunny’s mind before she smelled burning rubber and she and the bike went down.

  It didn’t ache as much now, but Sunny sure didn’t like the skid marks it had left on her thighs and hips. It had ruined a damn good pair of jeans, too.

  But she supposed she should be grateful, should take this as her opportunity to get with that harmonious, thankful-to-be-alive shit Trip had been harping about for all these months.