by Violet Blue
What a pair we made. She was growing wetter each time I landed a blow, and I was getting harder. I didn’t even think it was possible for my cock to grow any larger, but I could feel my erection straining, desperate for release.
But there was more. I knew it. I had to stay in control, to part the cheeks of her ass and let my stiffened fingers spank her pussy. Not as hard as I’d spanked her ass. More of a firm love tap than anything else. Yet it was enough for Katie, enough to have her arching to meet my fingers, greeting them with a flood of wetness. I gave her that taste of pleasure before continuing to punish her ripe and cherry-reddened ass cheeks. Playing her, making her cry out but be unsure of what she was crying out for. She wasn’t in serious pain, but in serious pleasure. She wanted more, but she didn’t know exactly what “more” she wanted.
That didn’t matter, because I knew.
Having felt with my fingertips just how wet and ready she was, I moved her off my lap and onto all fours on our sofa. Then, quickly unzipping my slacks, I parted her petal-like nether lips and slid my cock inside her cunt. The flood of juices around my prick was overwhelming. I gripped her slim hips and slid back and forth inside her, once, twice, three times, before I could regain my balance, my decorum. Taking a deep breath, I spoke to her once again.
“I haven’t finished with your spanking,” I said sternly. “And I have a new rule for you to follow. Now, you must squeeze me with your pussy each time my hand meets your skin.”
She knew to respond right away, saying, “Yes, Jack. I promise,” so quickly that I sensed she was right on the verge of coming. Slipping my cock into her again, I resumed her spanking. First, I smacked the right cheek, then the left, and Katie gripped and released my pulsing prick, just as I’d told her to. I sped up the rhythm, and she followed my lead, gripping into me with such seriousness that I felt as if I were being milked. What a fantastic sensation, my hand creating that warm, happy sound of applause on her naked skin while my cock was being treated to a series of decadent spasms from her dripping pussy.
How long would I be able to play the stern disciplinarian? Not much longer.
As Katie gripped and released me, I spanked her harder, faster, and soon we were coming together, no longer able to stave it off, to withhold ourselves from the finish line. But I did manage to speak just after I came, pulling out of her, then lifting her into my arms and sealing her to my body. I pressed my lips against her ear and whispered, “Katie, that was only round one.”
She sighed in response and leaned her head back against my chest. “I know, Jack,” she murmured. “Because I’ve been such an awfully bad girl.”
One on One
SELENA DRAKE
You’re opposite me on the couch, and it turns me on more than I could have imagined. It turns me on because you’re watching me.
I’m wearing that short little dress, the one you like so much. One leg is up on the back of the couch; the other is on the floor. I’m not wearing any panties, and my hand is underneath, between my spread legs.
I’m slowly stroking my pussy. I’m very, very wet, just from having you watch me. My toys are laid out on the coffee table next to me: Every now and then, I see your eyes flicker to them with anticipation, with excitement. I can’t believe I’m being such a dirty girl, letting you watch me. I can’t believe it, but I love it.
I pull the skirt up higher, tucking it so that my pussy remains fully exposed. I don’t think you noticed until now that I shaved for you. You look a little surprised, and that turns me on even more. Did you think I wouldn’t remember that conversation we had a while back about how sexy a shaved pussy is to you? And it seemed like the perfect time, since I wanted to make sure you could see everything.
I start with two fingers—usually I go for one at the beginning, but I’m much, much too turned on to settle for just one finger. Your eyes go wide as you watch them slide in. I’m moaning softly, squirming on the couch, my body moving in time with the throb of techno music from the stereo. I work my two fingers in and rub my clit with my thumb. My clit is hard, very hard, and it feels so good to stroke it. Watching you has me so turned on that I could probably come almost right away. But I don’t want to come just yet; I want to savor your eyes on me as I do everything I do when I’m alone.
I take the vibrator, press the tennis-ball-sized head against my clit. I gasp as my pussy clenches around my fingers. My eyes go shut for a moment as I see stars; when I open them, I see you’ve got your cock in your hand, slowly stroking it as you watch me. It’s as if we’re in a peepshow booth, me putting on a show for you—and maybe you for me, too. That thought turns me on even more, and it makes me slip my fingers out of my pussy and reach for more toys.
I start with the narrowest of the three dildos. It slides inside me beautifully; I’m so wet that at first I don’t even need any lube. I press the vibrator harder against my clit, arching my back as I gasp in pleasure. You’re stroking faster, now, more and more turned on as you sense me getting closer. Within a few more strokes my pussy is starting to dry out a little, but that’s OK—because I want more, much more. Holding eye contact with you as you stroke your cock, I reach out to the table again.
I ignore the middle-sized dildo and pick up the largest, putting the vibrator down across my lower belly just long enough to dribble lube onto the tip of the dildo. Then I slide the silicone cock inside me, and the thickness of the head feels so good inside me that I think, for a moment, that I’m going to come. But I don’t; I just hover there, so close, as I watch your hand moving up and down on your hardness. God, I want you to come before I do. I don’t know why; I just want to see your cock spurt, hear your moans of pleasure before I let myself go. I want to come knowing that my self-pleasure got you off, too, knowing that my fucking myself was enough to send you over the edge.
“Come for me,” I say to you.
“Fuck your pussy,” you sigh, and it’s music to my ears. I begin working the thick dildo in and out of my pussy, holding the head of the vibrator firmly against my clit as I do. Your hand pumps furiously, and I recognize that sense of urgency that happens just before you come. I have to back off on the vibrator, taking it all the way off my clit, because you turn me on so much I think I’m going to come. But all of a sudden I know it’s going to happen. The way your body twists, the way your hand tightens. And then you cry out, and come shoots out onto your hand.
The rush overwhelms me. I push the vibrator against my clit and move the dildo in and out of me rapidly , and I’m coming almost before you’re finished. I thrash back and forth on the sofa, you coaxing me on with your moans of pleasure as you stroke your softening cock. My orgasm envelops me and I soar into it, my whole body alive with pleasure as our eyes meet.
My thighs come together, hard, and I have to turn off the vibrator or I’m going to start screaming. I relax into the sensations, feeling my pussy filled and my clit satisfied. I smile at you, as flirtatiously as I can manage, and I know I’ve fulfilled that fantasy you told me about. What I didn’t expect is that you fulfilled mine.
And how convenient that is, since I’m planning to do it again. And again and again and again. One on one—just you and me.
Roger’s Fault
ERIC WILLIAMS
It was Roger’s fault that we were late.
“What a fucking day,” he said, looking over at the piles of spreadsheets on my desk. “Let’s go grab a beer.”
I looked at my watch and shook my head.
“One beer,” he insisted, and when I told him that I couldn’t —when I said that you were at home, waiting—he asked, “What are you, man? Pussy-whipped?”
So, Christ, Elena—what was I going to do? One beer turned into two, turned into an hour-and-a-half of playing darts down near the pier at the Rose and Crown. By the time I realized how long we’d been playing, well, it was too fucking late to call and explain, anyway.
“We’ll buy her something nice to make her feel better,” Roger said, pushing me out the door
to the parking lot. I shrugged uselessly. What could that possibly be? Flowers? Candy? No way to buy back nearly two hours of lost time.
“Trust me,” Roger said. “I know the perfect gift.”
Then we were back in his shiny black pickup, cruising along Santa Monica Boulevard, through the sumptuous curves of Beverly Hills, cresting into Hollywood. I had my hand on my cell phone, trying to think up some excuse that didn’t sound too lame, but he said, “It won’t help to call now. We’ll just show up with our gift and smooth things over.”
Roger acted as if he really knew what he was talking about, and it sounded good, the way he said it. But when he pulled into the parking lot of The Pleasure Garden, I honestly thought he’d lost his mind.
“Come on,” I smiled, shaking my head. “I’m not going into a vibrator store with you.” Roger didn’t even answer. It was obvious that he’d leave me in the truck if I didn’t follow, so I kicked open the door and trailed after him. “You’re crazy,” I said, but he ignored my words, making me hurry to catch up, tripping down the steps and into the wonderful world of sex toys.
What a sight we made. Two guys in expensive work suits, perusing the aisles of marabou-trimmed nighties, edible panties, inflatable dolls, vibrators, paddles, lubricant. Roger acted casual about the whole thing, as if he shopped in stores like that every day. And then there was me, late as hell already, not knowing what the fuck we were doing there.
“Trust me,” Roger said again, this time hefting a huge ribbed purple dildo and poking around in a basket for a suitable leather harness, one that would fit your slim hips without looking foolish. He wanted to find a quality-made harness with a delicate buckle. Not too large.
“You’ve got to be kidding,” I said.
“Elena will love it. You’ll see.”
“You’re not buying my girlfriend a dildo.”
“You’re right,” he agreed, and I thought I saw sanity again in my buddy’s green eyes. “I’m not buying it. You are.”
“There’s no way.”
“Chet,” he said, “you can’t go home empty-handed. She’s going to be upset as a wildcat that you’re this late as it is.”
“So, what?” I asked him, incredulous. “So I’m going to tell her to strap this thing on and fuck her aggression out on me?”
“Something like that.”
And then suddenly, I understood. I’d been set up.
“She told you?” I asked, my voice cracking. I couldn’t help but back away from him, standing against what I thought was a wall, but what turned out to be a display of artificial ladies, ready for a man to insert his cock in their mouths, asses, and pussies. Vinyl skin reached out to touch me, and I took a step forward, quickly, then whispered again, “She told you.” This time, I wasn’t asking.
“No problem with having a fantasy,” Roger said, grinning now. He looked incredibly handsome with that knowing half-smile, his short dark hair, and a start of evening shadow on his strong jaw. “Especially when everyone gets off.”
After that, he didn’t say anything else. Simply grabbed the items he was looking for, snagged an extra-large bottle of lube from the display by the counter, and paid for his purchases. I have to admit, I had no idea what to do. First, there was the fact of my immediate erection, already making itself known against my leg. I felt as if I were back in high school, getting hard whenever the wind blew—or, more honestly, whenever the little cheerleaders danced onto the field for afternoon practice. Those tiny pleated skirts flipping up each time they cheered…what filthy mind created outfits like that?
And then there was the fact that my best buddy in the world knew that I wanted my girlfriend to ass-fuck me—and not only me, but to fuck him, as well. It had taken a lot of vodka before I’d confessed that particular kinky fantasy. Never thought the words would make their way to his ears.
Yes, Elena, I should have known, way back when we were sharing secrets. I ought to have guessed that you’d do something like this. Always ready to push the barriers in life, which is why I love you. But, thinking back, I realize that’s why your brown eyes gleamed so brightly when I whispered the dirty words that made up my most private daydream. In your head, you were already playing this out: Roger and me, on our king-sized bed, and you, the queen of the night, going back and forth between us. Dipping into us. Taking us.
But still, I didn’t think it would ever happen.
“Come on, Chet,” Roger said, throwing one arm over my shoulder and herding me back to his truck as if he were leading a drunken man to shelter. “Elena’s waiting.”
At our house, the scene was carefully set. You weren’t surprised that we were late, because it was all planned out from the start. The two of you know me too fucking well. Roger was sure he’d be able to coerce me into a game (or six) of darts. And you knew I’d feel so guilty that I wouldn’t even have the balls to call. Ten minutes later, back at our house, there we were, Roger leaning hard on the doorbell before I could get my key out, and you, opening the door in your sleek leather pants, tight white tank top, high-heeled boots. You looked so fierce, I could have come on the spot.
“Boys,” you said as a greeting. Just that word. Your eyes told me that I should have known better. That I was too slow to figure things out. Before I could respond in my own defense, we were walking after you like bad little kids heading toward the principal’s office. Roger was the ringleader, taking my hand and pulling me down the hall to the bedroom, showing you the present he’d bought and actually undressing you and helping you put it on.
Fuck, Elena, the way you looked stripped down with that harness. Your pale skin, long dark hair, midnight eyes alert and shining. I wanted—well, you know damn well what I wanted. But I’ll spell it out anyway. I wanted to go on my knees and get your cock all nice and wet with my mouth, to suck on it until the silicone dripped with my saliva, and then to watch as you fucked my best friend. I wanted to help glide the synthetic prick between the cheeks of his well-muscled ass, to watch you pump him hard, stay sealed into him, then pump in and out again. I couldn’t wait to stand against the wall, one hand on my own pulsing cock, jerking, pulling, coming in a shower on the floor. Not caring what kind of mess I made, because, shit, I was beyond caring about anything like that.
That’s not what happened, of course. We were in the wrong, coming back late like that. Me, especially, since I had a will of my own. I could have insisted that we go back to the house on time. Could have at least called. No, you wouldn’t reward me by taking him first, letting me get off easy as the observer. That wasn’t your plan.
“Naughty boy,” you said. “Roger, help me bend him over.”
At your words, there was a tightening in the pit of my stomach, like a fist around my belly. A cold metal taste filled my mouth, and it was suddenly difficult for me to swallow. Roger’s seemingly experienced hands unbuckled my belt, pulled off my shoes, slipped my pants off, and took down my black satin boxers. Leaving those around my knees, he bent me over the bed, his exploring fingers trailing along the crack of my ass and making me moan involuntarily. Calloused fingertips just brushing my hole. Never felt anything that dirty, that decadent.
He was the one to help you. The assistant. Pouring the lube in a slick river between my ass cheeks, rubbing it in, his fingertips casually slipping inside of me. Probing and touching in such a personal manner that I could have cried. I wanted him to finger-fuck me, to use two, three, four fingers. I knew what it would be like to have his whole fucking fist inside of me. And, Elena, did I ever want that. Roger, behind me, getting the full motion of his arm into it. But then his strong hands spread me open as you guided the head of that mammoth, obscene purple cock into my asshole. And I wanted that even more.
Jesus-fucking-Christ, Elena. How did you know? I mean, I told you, of course, that night at the beach, draining the Absolut bottle between us as we stared up at the stars and out at the silver-lipped ocean. Your pussy so wet and slippery as you confessed your secret, five-star fantasy of fucking a gu
y. And me, harder than steel as I answered that it was what I wanted, as well.
But how did you know how to do it? How to talk like that? Sweet thing like you. Fucking me like a professional and talking like a sailor.
“Such a bad boy, needing to be ass-fucked,” you told me, your voice a husky-sounding purr. “That’s what you need—right, Chet? You need my cock deep in your hole.”
That’s what I needed, all right, and it was what you gave me. That dildo reaming my asshole, with Roger there, spreading my cheeks wide until it hurt. The right kind of hurt. Pain at being pulled, stretched open. Embarrassment flooding through me and making the pre-cum drip freely from my cock. I could feel the sweat on me, droplets beading on my forehead as I gripped into the pillow and held on. Never been fucked before, never taken, and here my best friend was watching. Helping.
As fantasies go, you never know what will happen when they come true. I turned to look in the mirror on the closet doors as Roger moved behind you, saw that your bare ass was plenty available since you were wearing only that harness. He wasn’t rough with you the way you were with me. He knew how to do it, how you like it. On his knees behind you, parting your luscious cheeks and tickling your velvety hole with his tongue. Playing peek-a-boo games back there, driving the tip of it into your asshole and licking you inside out. Making you moan and tilt your head back, your hair falling away from your face, your cheeks flushed.
Then he was the one to pour lube all over his cock, to rub it in and part your heart-shaped cheeks and take you. I had a glimpse of his pole before it disappeared into your ass, and the length of it made me suck in my breath. What it must have done to you. Impaling you, possessing you as he took you on a ride.