The Mammoth Book of Best New Erotica 6

by Jakubowski Maxim

  On and on, with no let-up except to get me off my guard, interrupt expectations. From my ass to my thighs I was hot, throbbing, quivering before and after each impact, and my whole body jerked with the intensity of each strike. The tears were back, flowing down my cheeks, snuffling in my nose, but the wetness squeezing from my cunt under her relentless pressure made a keener impression.

  “Please,” I whispered, but she ignored me. “Please,” I cried louder, wriggling my crotch against her thigh, then trying to raise my butt, straining against the forearm steadying me across my waist. She paused.

  “ ‘Please’,” she mocked. “You think you’ve had enough? Ready to forgive yourself, are you? You think this is it, we’re finished?”

  “No, please . . . I need . . . I’m so hot . . .”

  “Flaming hot,” she agreed, pinching one buttcheek hard. “And getting pretty tender. Maybe it’s time to stick a fork in and see if you’re done.” There was no time to process what she’d said before two fingers and then another thrust into my hungry cunt. The tines of her “fork” seemed to spread apart, clench together, probe commandingly just where my need was most demanding, until, just as her other hand came down in a sharp, solid slap on my sore ass, the wrenching spasms hit and shook me from my toes to my streaming nose.

  It was a long time before I could fumble the sleeve of my robe up to wipe away my tears and snot. She was stroking my reddened ass gently now, but for a little while I still sobbed softly, wringing every drop of release from that magnificent catharsis.

  Finally she carried me to the couch, and we cuddled for a while. I started to work my mouth surreptitiously across her undershirt, millimeter by millimeter, but suddenly I sat upright. “Don’t you have to finish your route?” I asked.

  “Nope. I have the afternoon off. Just came by to check on you.” I snuggled back. “You did a good job,” I told her. “I’m so glad the postman never gives up.”

  “Neither snow nor sleet nor stolen election,” she agreed. “I’ve been around the block enough times to get some perspective. And so should you. A little food might help, though.” She set me aside. “C’mon, I’ll take you out for something spicy enough to get the circulation flowing, if you can manage to get dressed.”

  My circulation was already in fine shape, but I was suddenly ravenous. In fifteen minutes (ten for a mutual shower that nearly derailed our plans) we were heading toward her station wagon.

  “Just a minute,” she said, her hand on the door. “Extra credit if a young whippersnapper like you can tell me what those are about.” She motioned toward two weather worn bumper stickers held on with strips of duct tape.

  “ ‘McGovern/Eagleton’,” I read. “Um, ’72? But . . . wasn’t it McGovern/Shriver?”

  “Yeah, eventually,” she said. “Close enough. But look it up. Politics is always messy. How about the other one? I saved them both when I finally had to junk my first car. They don’t make ’em like Dodge Darts anymore.”

  “ ‘Don’t Blame Me, I’m from Massachusetts’. ” I had to think about it. ’72 . . . ’73 . . . “Nixon? Watergate? The impeachment?” She nodded, but still waited. “Okay, right,” I said. “Only Massachusetts and the District of Columbia went for McGovern.”

  “And even then,” she pointed out, “McGovern got 40 per cent of the vote. Don’t go forgetting how many people are still on the same side you’re on. And some of them are getting their rears in gear to fight on.” She opened the door and didn’t wait for me to say anything else, which was a damned good thing, because I didn’t have anything else to say just yet.

  She just let me relax as we rolled onward toward food and fellowship, her hand on my thigh and my head against her shoulder, my thoughts for once not so much on politics as on what I hoped to get with all that extra credit.

  The Exchange

  Robert Buckley

  He was angry – at himself. He had caved in to them so easily. Why didn’t he speak up, express his misgivings? Or did he really want to know what it was like? He cursed his perverted curiosity.

  Ann’s keening sigh reverberated from the room at the opposite end of the suite. He folded his arms across his face. He wanted to brace the pillows against his ears and shut out her cries and moans.

  Mercy stroked his erection. “You’re not going to let this go to waste, are you?”

  She waggled his cock and mocked him. “Are you going to let them have all the fun? There’s a wet willing pussy here begging for attention.”

  “Why – Why’d he insist on leaving our doors open?” he asked.

  “Because half the experience is listening to the other couple fuck.” She closed her hand around his cock. “You’re hard as steel, Danny, so it must be having an effect. Listening to your sweet wife’s moans, knowing she’s being gloriously fucked by another man’s cock.”

  “Damn it, Mercy.”

  “C’mon, give in to it. It’s a turn-on, enjoy it.”

  “I’m not like . . .”

  “Like what?”

  “Like Greg . . . or you. This was a bad idea.”

  “Why didn’t you say something last week? – ’Cause it’s obviously too late now.”

  “I – I wanted to. You and Greg . . .”

  “And Ann . . .”

  “Huh?”

  “She wanted this, Danny. She was excited, looking forward to it. Nobody drugged her and tossed her into Greg’s bed. Is that what’s really bothering you, Danny? Is that what’s – turning you on?”

  “Fuck you, Mercy.”

  “I wish you would. Ann’s had three orgasms already and we’re just making small talk.”

  “Yeah, well, maybe I’ll be a disappointment, ever think of that?”

  “Guys are different, but no one’s ever disappointed me. You just need some encouragement. Now, this big, beautiful rack of mine usually does the trick, but Ann tells me you’re a legs and ass man. She says you like small tits. Must be true, judging by those mosquito bites of Ann’s.”

  Ann wailed like a creature in pain.

  “Christ!” Mercy said. “That’s four; we’re never going to catch up.”

  “Mercy, please . . .”

  “I bet I know what you’re thinking.”

  “What?”

  “You want to know if she thinks he’s better than you. You’re wondering if you’ll be able to satisfy her once Greg’s done her.”

  “Shit! What’s with you?”

  “Does she let you fuck her in the ass?”

  Dan’s face pinched into a frown. Mercy grinned.

  “Oh, wow, she doesn’t, does she?”

  “She – she’s afraid it’ll hurt. What am I supposed to do, force it on her?”

  “You mean in her, don’t you? And the answer is yes. Now you’re only going to be the second man to take her ass.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Oh, Danny, you’re such a babe in the woods. Women talk; they tell each other everything. Ann told me she wouldn’t do anal with you. I told Greg. That’s why Greg was so looking forward to taking her ass cherry. He must have been an explorer in another life. He loves being first. And you, Danny, what do you like – sloppy seconds? When Annie raises her pretty pink cheeks from now on and asks you to pump her ass, is it going to get you hard knowing that another man, that Greg broke her in with his big cock?”

  He clenched the fabric of the pillow in his fist, then swung it in a wide arc, catching her in the head and knocking her back on the bed. He rolled over her and straddled her, pushing her thighs apart.

  “Bitch!” He used his cock like a cudgel, a blunt weapon, stabbing it into her cunt, pinning her hands down at the wrists, trying to drill himself into her belly. Mercy responded by clamping her legs around him, yelping at each rapid thrust.

  “God! You’re hurting me, Danny! Hurt me! Hurt me!”

  He didn’t want to come in her. He wanted to fuck her hard for hours, take it all out on her cunt. But then she came hard and raked her nails down his b
ack. The pain sent electricity to the base of his cock and he exploded in her womb.

  The tension dissipated and he rolled onto his back. It stung, and he thought he felt blood trickle onto the sheets.

  Mercy exhaled a long sigh then rolled against him, laying her cheek on his chest.

  “You really hurt me, Danny. You’re such a fucking brute. My poor pussy will be black and blue.”

  “Shut up.”

  Her voice changed into the sing-song meter of a child. “Why’d you hurt Mercy? Do you like to be mean to girls?”

  He rolled his eyes. Then from down the hall, he heard another sing-song voice. “Yes, darling, I’m your slut. I’ll always be your slut.”

  Danny winced. Another voice, low-frequency masculine, and unintelligible, was a moment later answered by the childish feminine. “Thank you for fucking my slutty ass.”

  Danny didn’t sleep much that night. He let his anger and anxiety well up and overflow, then took it out on Mercy. And the rougher he fucked her, the more she liked it. He finished near dawn fucking her in the ass while yanking her thick, blonde hair like reins.

  Mercy actually cried after that. In ways unspoken she let him know that was her goal, her payoff. Then she made it explicit. As the sun turned the morning sky pink she stroked his cock to hardness and smiled. “You made me cry – you’re so cruel.”

  Her mouth closed over his cockhead and her head bobbed. Her tongue slithered and coiled along his length and he could not resist if he wanted to. His come rocketed into her throat as she gulped and gagged.

  Her eyes glazed as his spent cock slipped from her lips, trailing a tendril of semen. She laid her cheek on his chest, and then her breaths steadied and became deeper.

  He woke with Mercy’s face nestled into his shoulder. She was peacefully oblivious to the world. Carefully he slid from beneath her. Sunlight leaked around the opaque blinds.

  “What the hell am I doing?” he whispered to himself, then glanced at Mercy. She looked angelic, he thought, and almost laughed. He thought of the girl she was in college, a free spirit, willing to do anything on a dare. She was exciting and dangerous, and that made her sexy – a sparrow he couldn’t grasp.

  He was full of doubt and bereft of confidence when he started college. It took him a week to work up the nerve to ask her out. Her answer, “I’m kinda seeing someone.” He shrugged, accepting rejection like the routine it had become, when she said, “You can play too – wanna?”

  She introduced him to Greg, his mirror opposite. Greg was the epitome of cool, full of confidence. Fear, rejection, doubt? He had no concept of these. Danny envied and loathed him all at once, but Greg was gracious and Danny found himself adapting to the role of sidekick. It was something he resented, but tolerated because being with Greg was exciting, and being with Greg and Mercy together was like plummeting off a cliff, scary and exhilarating.

  One of Greg’s favourite games was “Naked Runner”. It was simple enough. One of them would strip just out of sight, in an alley or hallway. The others would take the clothing and drive to another location. The naked runner had to reach the location traversing public space.

  Danny refused the dare the first time. So Greg took up the challenge. Danny remembered watching Greg dash through a public park, past necking lovers and families enjoying picnics, to reach them while Mercy cheered him on.

  More crazy dares followed. Mercy challenged them to go to a gay bar and try to get picked up. Danny bolted, but not before having his ass pinched by a guy in chains and leather.

  And Mercy wasn’t exempt. Greg challenged her to dress like a prostitute and stand on a street corner. It was a charade Mercy enjoyed, even when she was challenged by a real pimp who demanded to know who she was working for. Greg pushed the situation ever closer to the danger line when he casually negotiated a price for Mercy’s ass with the pimp.

  Danny was so scared for all of them he nearly tossed his lunch.

  “Jesus, what if he pulled a gun or a knife on you? What if he pulled Mercy into a car and drove off?”

  Greg and Mercy just laughed. It was the thrill they were after.

  Danny didn’t always feel good after one of their adventures but, thanks to Greg he got laid, and often. But then he couldn’t get over feeling dirty about it. Still, being friends with Greg and Mercy was like a drug and Danny was reluctant to give them up.

  Then just before their senior finals Mercy asked him to come to the apartment she and Greg were sharing with another kinky couple. The door was always open and when he called out to her she answered, “I’m in the shower – join me.”

  “But what about Greg?”

  She peeked around the curtain. “Oh, c’mon, I need someone to soap my back.”

  He didn’t think, he just stripped and piled in after her. Greg was standing there too, grinning.

  “Got you both now,” Mercy laughed. She grabbed both their cocks and began pumping each in her fists. “Who’s going to shoot first?”

  For Danny it was too much. Mercy’s body was lush and shimmering in the shower, her heavy breasts jostled with each other as she pumped their cocks. He came and his cream splattered over Greg’s thigh. Then Greg came, spattering his come on Danny’s stomach.

  “Can I aim a gun, or what?” Mercy laughed. Greg laughed too.

  Danny left with as much grace as he could muster. When he got home he scrubbed himself an hour before he was satisfied he’d removed the tacky trail of Greg’s dried semen from his lower abdomen.

  Graduation came and Danny broke free of their spell. They kept in touch on a casual basis, and Danny followed Greg’s business successes. He established four companies and sold each for outlandish profits – a guerrilla entrepreneur, the financial rags called him. Danny knew that Greg had married Mercy, but he wasn’t invited to the wedding and he was grateful for that.

  Meanwhile, he had met Ann. Ann the modest, the maidenly. Ann of the dark chestnut tresses and milk-pale skin. He remembered how she trembled the first time she was naked for him, and it made him crazy with lust. But never did he treat her any way other than as the magical creature he believed she was. Together they made two beautiful babies and settled into domestic life.

  The day he spotted Greg and Mercy at the kids’ small fry soccer game it seemed like the sunlight itself changed its tint. He had no choice but to introduce Ann. When had they moved to town? Really, their daughters were on the same team? They only lived four streets away.

  Ann warmed to the new friends immediately, and Danny understood. She was falling under the spell.

  It was after the Memorial Day barbecue at Greg and Mercy’s house that Greg mentioned that he and Mercy regularly “expanded the boundaries” of their marriage. Danny kept watching for a reaction of shock or even disgust from Ann. But instead she asked questions.

  “Don’t you get jealous?”

  “Of course,” Greg said, an eyebrow arched. “That’s what gets me excited. Just thinking about a guy being seduced by my own, beautiful spouse, knowing he doesn’t stand a chance . . .”

  Ann laughed and clasped her hand to her mouth. “Oh, my! And, Greg, what about the women you’ve seduced?”

  “Oh, dear, dear, Annie. I am not so casual. Mercy and I don’t belong to swing clubs, and we don’t troll for strangers. I like to know the women I take to bed. An anonymous fuck holds no thrill for me. But . . .” He held Ann’s gaze with his own. “To seduce a sweet, young soccer mom, to bring her to a place she wouldn’t dare go, to entice her to step into the abyss of taboo . . .”

  Mercy slid her hands over Ann’s shoulders. “Would you like that, Annie? To be able to do something really . . . bad, but still be safe?”

  Danny could hardly believe it when Ann, as if in a trance, nodded, “Yes.” His dick pressed against the fabric of his pants.

  From that point, it was three against Danny, and he offered little resistance, just like in college. Then it was agreed, the following weekend they would reserve a suite for the four of them at a s
easide resort that was a favorite of Greg.

  Danny stood and stretched. He stepped into the lounge that formed the center of the suite and strained to listen. He started toward the open door of Greg’s room, then hesitated. Could he handle seeing his bride in the arms of Greg, snuggled in sheets twisted and snarled by their passion?

  He forced himself to peek in. The bedclothes were indeed twisted into snarls, but Greg and Ann weren’t there.

  He stalked back to his room where Mercy was just stirring.

  “They’re not here.”

  “Hmm?” Mercy yawned.

  “Greg and Ann, they’re gone. Where the hell are they?”

  “I dunno. He probably took her out to breakfast.” She sat and slid her legs over the side of the bed. Then she stretched her arms up and out, lifting her breasts like a mating display.

  Danny was transfixed for a moment. “He didn’t say anything about going out, what . . .”

  “Oh, shush, Danny. Remember what we agreed. For the next couple of days Ann isn’t your wife – she’s Greg’s. A man ought to be able to take his wife anywhere anytime he wants. Did you really want to hang out together today? Did you want to see your sweet Ann kissing and necking with Greg like a pair of newlyweds? Well, did you, Danny?”

  “I – damn, this is all so crazy.”

  “Lucky you,” she laughed. “I get to be your bride this weekend. Like you always wanted.”

  “I wanted?”

  “Sure, Danny, you wanted me all through college. Now you have me – for a weekend anyway. And I’ll do anything you want me to.”

  “Let’s get out of here.”

  “I need to shower first – wanna join me? All alone?”

  “Okay, in a minute.”

  Mercy stumbled toward the bathroom, shaking out her blonde mane. Then Danny heard the shower water.

  “Come in, it feels great. Nothing like a hot shower after a night of good fucking.”

  Danny couldn’t keep his mind off Ann. Where had Greg taken her? Did it still matter?

  “Danny? What do you suppose he’s doing to her – right now? Maybe he’s running his hand up her thigh, under the table in a public restaurant. Maybe he told her not to wear panties today. It would be just like him to bring her off right when the waiter is taking their order. Whatcha think?”