by Carol Queen
I’ll stay right here, my love, my darling, until you tell me to stop.
The Bounty of Summer
BY CAROL QUEEN
We stop at farmers’ markets whenever we’re on the road, especially in July when the peaches come ripe, timed with the Perseid meteor showers.We get enough fruit to sate any summer hunger, not just peaches but whatever is juicy and sweet, bearing it away in brown bags as if we are smuggling jewels.
At the bed and breakfast we get a room overlooking the Pacific—we can see it from our bed and from the huge Jacuzzi in the bathroom. It’s the honeymoon suite, though we are not married, just fucking like it’s the only thing we will have to do for the rest of our lives. We’ve come equipped with candles to make the Jacuzzi room a wet cathedral of fuck. We stay in the water all weekend, except when we’re in the bed.We get out to pee and refill the water bottle so we don’t pass out and drown.
We float one at a time, holding each other’s heads. He can reach my pussy too because his arms are so long. He sits on the tile edge while I suck his cock, then we switch places. I brace myself on the edge while he fucks me, and we fuck as often as possible. It doesn’t matter if he’s hard—we both have fingers and tongues, and a bag of sex toys too if it comes to that.
He tells me to close my eyes: His voice is my blindfold. His hands roam on me everywhere, warm, wet as the water. He has turned on the jets and positioned me over one. Everything about me is open, so open, except my eyes. I can picture him anyway, his hands covering my breasts, sliding down, sliding back up to grasp the back of my neck, pulling me in for a wet and melting kiss. I float in his touch, in our sex, like a lotus on a pond, anchored.
A cold something interrupts the warm. Cold and completely smooth, not icy, but a shocking cool compared to warm water and hot kisses. He runs the thing up and down my body, rolls it, really; it seems round or ovoid. I still do not open my eyes. Over my nipples, the coolness tugging them into even tighter erection. Down my belly, giving me the ripply butterfly feeling I sometimes get when I’m touched there. Between my legs, of course, everything we play with goes between my legs, smooth and chill on my clit, nuzzling my cunt lips apart.
It feels like it wants to enter me, nudging the way his cock does, and rounded like a cockhead; but so much cooler than his cock, a little bigger too perhaps. Pushing in—he’s lubed it, whatever it is, it stretches the lips, slides in and in. He makes sure it happens slowly. It is big, I realize, wider than his cock, big enough that I have to fight with myself a little to take it.
Suddenly it slides all the way in—it’s passed the midpoint and the slide is unstoppable—I’m filled.
He tells me to open my eyes.
There on the edge of the tub one of our paper bags of fruit sits open, full of gleaming red plums not quite the size of a small fist.
“Do you want another one?” he asks, and holds one up for me to bite, juice running down my chin, down my tits.
Ah, the bounty of summer. We eat more plums while he fucks me, his cock nudging the fruit and barely fitting, juice running everywhere. Laughing.
Captain, May I?
BY ELISE MATTHESEN
The thing about Jeff, thought Brenda, was that he made a person comfortable about doing things for the first time. Oh, she’d had lovers already. Well, o.k., two, but that qualified for the plural, right? This wouldn’t be the first time she’d had sex. Just the first time she’d ever talked about it. Before Jeff, talking about sex had been, “Do you want to, uh, ‘you know’?” and “Do you have protection?” —with a few Oh Yeahs and Oh Gods along the way. Brenda was pretty sure “Do you want to, ‘you know’?” was nowhere near the level of detail Jeff had in mind.
Jeff wasn’t the kind of guy who said, “Nice dress”; his compliments usually ran to whole sentences. O.k., he had said “Nice dress” once, but she had been in the shower at the time. That was another thing she liked. Jeff wasn’t afraid to be silly.
Right now, he sat next to her looking serious. “Brenda? Thank you for letting me be your first.”
“Um,” she said. “You know . . . I thought I told . . .”
“Oh, I know you’ve had sex before. I meant letting me be your first to talk sex with. It’s an honor.” He gave her a flirtatious look. “Also seriously hot.”
Seriously hot, Brenda thought, was the look he gave her. And his hands. His very skilled hands, and his even more skilled. . . . Well, he had lots of, um, skills. She snorted wryly.
“Funny?”
“Just laughing at myself. How can I talk about sex to you when I can’t even talk about it in the privacy of my own head?” said Brenda.
“Ah,” said Jeff, reaching for his backpack. “Voici! Resources. I went online and found this.” He handed her a sheaf of paper.
“‘1001 Ways to Please Your Lover’?”
“You could read from it.” He had that wicked expression again.
“To build vocabulary.”
She looked at the list, felt her cheeks warm. But she didn’t want to stop. She made herself turn the page. “Read to you?”
“Read, talk, as long as it’s out loud.” He shifted his weight. She was intensely aware of his nearness, his heat. “Because you have such a sexy voice,” he said.
“I’m going to blush if I read these.”
“And such a sexy blush.”
“Flattery!”
“Not flattery if it’s true.”
“You really want me to read this?”
“Maybe not all two dozen pages, but I’d like it very much if you’d read me some. But only if it feels o.k. to you to do it.”
“I think . . . it’s going to feel weird. But an o.k. kind of weird. And how will I know if I like it if I don’t try?”
He said solemnly, “Exactly.You may discover that you are a virtuoso sex reader.”
“Funny, that wasn’t on any of those aptitude tests.”
“Astronaut, cowgirl, and chocolate quality inspector weren’t either. I’m not surprised they overlooked your incredibly sexy voice. Or your incredibly sexy. . . .” His gaze roamed down her body slowly. “Should I list from top to bottom, or alphabetically?”
“I should say reverse alphabetically, just to make you work hard!” she teased.
“You know I work hard,” he said. “I work pretty well when I’m not hard, too.” He swirled his tongue along his lips in a positively lewd motion.
“Yes,” Brenda said demurely, “you do.You’re very versatile.”
“Damn right. Inspired, too. Don’t forget inspired.” He reached out, took her hand, and kissed her palm. “So. This list of possible sexual acts.”
“A couple impossible ones, too. Guess I better pick wisely, huh? Be careful what I wish for?”
“Hey, this is just practicing saying stuff out loud. No obligation, no salesman will call. Whatever you read, I won’t assume that’s what you want to do, today or ever. Unless you tell me so. Explicitly,” he said, looking at her that way again.
“Oh-ho, I begin to comprehend the outlines of your fiendish plan.” She wasn’t sure whether what she felt was nervous self-consciousness or pleasure. Or both, she thought suddenly; it could even be both. “Going to make me ask for what I want, eh?”
“What can I say?” he said. “I love the way you blush. Actually, I love the way you blush while continuing to do whatever you’re blushing about.”
“So I read until—what? You expire of frustration?”
“I prefer to call it ‘erotic suspense’.” He grinned. “Here’s the game:You read something. I’ll say, ‘Captain, may I?’ If you say, ‘No, you may not,’ I’ll just lie here and savor your voice.”
“Yeah, right,” she said, amused. “You’ll just lie there and look sexy at me until I jump on you to keep from going mad.”
“Ooh,” he said, appreciatively. “Good idea. Captain, may I?”
“No, you may not,” she said, mock-sternly. “Well, not for at least fifteen minutes. I plan to make you suffer.”
O.k., she thought, if that’s how we’re playing. She looked for a big one; some people jump into the deep end of the pool if they’re going in at all. “‘Slide your tongue between the wet folds of her labia, savoring the taste of her excitement.’” Well, she wouldn’t die of blushing, even if she felt like a glowing coal.
“Whoa.You don’t mess around.” His voice was a purr. “Captain, may I?”
“No, you may not,” she said, watching him.
He grinned. “Thank you, ma’am, may I please have another?”
She laughed, and chose at random. “‘Trail kisses from the nape of her neck all the way to the base of her spine.’”
“Captain, may I?”
“No, you may not.” It sounded nice. Maybe she should make a note for later.
“‘Lie on your back, offering your erect cock to ride in whatever way pleases her.’” Hmm. Interesting idea. Two interesting ideas, actually. Possibly three. She was distracted from numbering possibilities by Jeff’s face.
He bit his lip gently and looked at her through half-lidded eyes. “Captain, may I?”
“No, you may not.” Inspired by his expression, she added, “Yet.”
“Oh! Captain, you tease!”
“Erotic suspense, I think you said?”
“Captain, ma’am, you are an excellent tease,” he said happily.
By the time she reached, “‘Delicately bite her nipples—or let her bite yours,’” he was breathing hard. By “‘Pretend you’re in an X-rated pirate story; do some well-lubed plundering,’” they both were. At “‘Touch your cock for her; make yourself come while she watches, ’” he groaned aloud.
“‘Reveal to her the word or words that turn you on the most,’” she said.
“Captain, may I?”
“I think you’d better.”
“The sexiest word is ‘yes’. Because it means you’re doing what you’re doing on purpose, with me, because you want to. Knowing that,” he said, “is the biggest turn-on. And I only know if you tell me.”
She held his gaze. “Kiss me,” she said.
“Captain, may I?”
She looked deep into his eyes, said, “Yes,” and saw the pleasure rising through him. I am doing this on purpose, she thought, reaching for him, and the pleasure rose up in her own body with surprising strength. “Yes,” she said again, coming down to cover his parted lips with her own. They kissed hungrily, saying “Yes,” into each other’s mouths. Her heart was beating so fast she thought they would both fall upward, into the sky.
They ran out of afternoon before they ran out of list.
“‘Take off your clothes, slowly; let her watch you strip for her pleasure.’”
“Captain, may I?”
“That one definitely goes on the list.”
“Mmm,” he agreed, rubbing his cheek against her shoulder. “So, how do you like this talking about sex stuff?”
“I like. I definitely like. We should do this again.”
“Anytime,” he said.
“Maybe next time you should take a turn as Captain.”
“Ooh,” he said, looking at her speculatively. “Captain, may I?”
At the rumble of pleasure in his voice, Brenda felt a quiver deep inside. She considered the possibilities. Her lips curled into a long, lazy smile. “Yes, I think you may.”
Power Game
BY MARLO GAYLE
Their asses were mine. They were broken, ready to submit. They couldn’t hold my stare, my passion, my strength. They couldn’t handle any more from me. I had them, and I could make them do what I wanted. My muscles flexed, twitched. Sweat drenched my t-shirt, the cool air causing my skin to tingle. I dug my cleats into the soft ground—I could almost feel the blades of grass on my soles.
“Hike!”
Sundeep took the ball from the center, his waist-length black hair done up in a top knot and covered as per Sikh custom. His long thin frame fluidly dancing a couple of Gene Kelly steps back.Two steps back . . . to me. I took the ball from his gracefully outstretched hand. I thought I heard several of my opponents moan as I cradled the ball and thrust myself into them. I felt their arms, their legs, their wills give from my contact, their bodies succumbing to mine. I could taste the mix of sweat and fear. They gave in to me and I took them . . .
“Damn, man, you were a beast out there,” Sundeep said after the pickup game, as he traded the cloth covering his hair for a more formal turban.
“I just wanted it more,” was my clichéd but honest response.
My passion, however, had a price. I knew I would be sore and stiff beyond movement. Dirt clung to my legs, sweat stung my eyes. I made my way back home. A hot shower would be a temporary delay to my upcoming muscular hangover. I had barely closed the door when I started peeling off my clothes. My t-shirt fell with a wet “clomp” to the floor. The skin around my chest and abs drank the air around their newly exposed flesh. My nipples got hard with the chill.
I slid off my cleats and my socks, my feet thankful for the release. My shorts and briefs were last to go, the cool air on my ass making my cock stir slightly. I reached the shower and turned on the faucet. Steam rose as needles of water shot from the shower head.The water caressed my body, warming my arms and legs, soothing my tired flesh. I lathered up my chest, my arms, the smooth skin on my freshly shaven head. I let the water rush over me, cleanse me. I soaped up my cock, my pubic hair foaming with lather. I ran the soap between my ass cheeks. A shudder ran through my body as my fingers ran past the small pucker within. I was getting lost in the pleasure of the moment when I heard a sigh.
“Oh, hi, Joani,” I said, startled. “Uh, how long have you been standing there?”
“Long enough,” she answered with a tease in her voice. “I, uh, followed your scent after I came in.”
“Gosh, why did I ever give you the keys to my place?” I smart-assed.
“I’m a good lay,” she smart-assed back. Her quick wit was one of the things I loved about her. “Another tackle football game with the boys?”
“Yup, they needed a little pain. I’m more than happy to give it to them.”
“You and your full contact,” she said in mock disgust. “You’re going to end up arthritic and crippled.”
“You’d better enjoy me until then,” I countered.
“I plan to. Meet me in the bedroom, and I’ll see what I can do for your muscles.”
I couldn’t get out of the tub fast enough. I made a half effort toweling off. My feet left wet prints all the way into the bedroom. Joani squatted upon the bed. She had mischief on her mind.