by Carol Queen
“How do I know it’s not just the alcohol in you?”
“Because I’ve been attracted to you from the moment I first saw you last spring.”
“When we all watched the Alice in Wonderland video?”
“When you first came in the door, and Laura introduced us, yes.”
“You were going out with Laura then, right?”
“We broke up about a month later. But I hardly ever saw you around.”
“Too bad.” She tilted her head forward and I kissed her mouth. She kissed back. We stayed that way for a long time. My arms slid inside her jacket, warm around her back as the night air frosted the nape of my neck. I felt her breasts push against my chest, her left arm around my shoulders, her right hand reaching into my back pocket.
I glanced back toward the kitchen.Through the window above the sink I could see Laura, Chris, and other partygoers. One gestured toward the window and they all laughed. I unwrapped myself from Debra and pulled her with me into deeper shadow, against the wall. My back pressed against the old, damp planking and she spun so her back pressed into me. I caught her in my arms and she collapsed just the tiniest bit, letting me hold her up.
I arched forward and kissed her neck, chewed a while on her right ear. She let herself moan a little, rocked her body against mine, ground her ass into my crotch. My hands cupped her breasts as I continued to chew her neck, first through her sweatshirt, then through her blouse, then under her blouse as I pinched and kneaded her nipples through her bra. She made a gasping sound and pushed back harder against me. I gripped her tighter in turn.
“I want to,” she breathed, “but . . . ”
I released her neck. “I know.”
“It’s just that ... ”
“I know,” I said again, gently. “It’s not the right time for that, or the right place.” I looked back at the kitchen window, saw the heads bobbing and weaving. “But still . . . ”
My right hand slid inside her belt, down past the elastic of her underwear, and I felt how wet she was. Her knees buckled and I caught her, my left arm around her ribs as my right hand slid up and down, as much as the tightness of her jeans allowed. I rested my chin on her shoulder, and kissed her cheek again.
“I can at least give you this,” I whispered.
She didn’t answer, but reached down and released the clasp on her belt, unfastened the top button of her jeans. My fingers reached deeper, past the lips of her cunt to where she was slippery and warm, and used the slickness to massage her clitoris. She began to move, just a little, up and down, matching the rhythm of my fingers. My left arm squeezed her body closer and closer against me, my hand rubbed hard, and Debra began to chant “yes yes yes there, yes, there . . .” until she moaned “ohmygod” and fell back into me completely.
A little bit shyly, I took my right hand away, not sure of what to do with it. Debra refastened her jeans and belt, then leaned forward and kissed my lips again.Then she took my right hand in hers, still wet, and kissed that.
“Thank you,” she said.
“It was truly my pleasure,” I said.
“We’ll have to do that again.”
“I hope so. Soon.”
But it was not to be. Maybe if I’d seen her the next day, or not seen her again for a month, but the timing was all wrong. Some days you are on the shining path and the gold is soft and warm in your hands, and all you can do is make the most of it while it lasts.
Chemistry
BY MARCY SHEINER
I want to rub my body all over his, I thought, the minute I saw him standing in the entrance to the café. He was a huge man, about six foot three, maybe 230 pounds, with a deep golden tan and an unruly sun-bleached beard.
Startled and flushed, I buried my head behind a newspaper, dismayed that at the age of forty-four I could still cream in my panties at the mere sight of a total stranger. Besides, I’d spent four hours fucking the previous night—wasn’t it enough? Then again, in all those hours I had failed to have an orgasm.
Brian and I had been seeing each other for several months. He was ten years younger than me and a good deal smaller in every way but one: he had a nine-inch cock. I liked his athleticism and staying power—he always fucked me long and hard—but I had never yet been able to come with him. I was starting to think that his physique had something to do with it: I like to be able to crawl all over a man without feeling like I’m crushing him. I’m no Barbie doll. I’m a fleshy, lusty lady who likes to take what she wants when she wants it, and I need a man who’s solid enough to handle me.The stranger definitely looked like he could. Slowly I lowered my paper, and was surprised to find him staring at me.
I blushed and lowered my eyes. Now, how had he managed to zero in on me? I’d done nothing overt—yet an invisible thread of electricity crackled and joined us through a roomful of people. Some kind of indefinable chemistry was at work, the mysterious doings of a mysterious universe.
I turned to the astrology page and read my horoscope. “A new relationship will prove to be a challenge in your already complex life.”
Beads of perspiration broke out on my forehead. I heard the scrape of a chair, and felt the stranger’s powerful presence beside me before I even looked up to see his oceanic blue eyes boring into me.
“My name’s Jake,” he said, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “Do you live around here?”
“Not too far,” I said, finally meeting his gaze. Looking into those eyes, I became awash in a sea of desire. Pheromones fairly poured off Jake’s body, making my nerve endings tingle and my fingertips ache with the need to touch him.
Jake ordered a slice of cake, which he pretty much inhaled in one fell swoop. He made small talk, the substance of which evaded me as I studied his hands, imagining them on my breasts. I wished I were the piece of cake in his hungry mouth.
“So,” he said quite suddenly, “What do you want to do with me?”
A fiery blush spread up my neck and face. “You know what I want to do with you,” I whispered.
“It’s okay,” Jake said. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”
He took my hand. Sheets of electricity ran from my fingertips up my arm, over my neck, down to my hot wet center. I struggled to maintain dignity, but I knew it was a losing battle.
I’d had dozens of lovers, some wonderful, some not, but if there was one thing they all had in common it was a basic gentleness. It suddenly occurred to me that I yearned to lose myself in a powerfully masculine man, but I’d been afraid to give in to this desire.
In my apartment, Jake’s big hands roamed over my arms and breasts and hips with slow deliberation, as if taking possession. I dissolved into soft, yielding flesh. He kissed me, his mouth slightly open, his tongue elusive. We moved to the sofa and Jake continued kissing me, not letting his tongue enter my mouth.Then his hand crept under the elastic of my panties and his fingers toyed with my vaginal lips, parting them, pressing, teasing. Suddenly he plunged his fingers into my cunt and his tongue into my mouth both at the same moment. The incomparable shock of penetration was thrilling, and I allowed myself to melt down to the place I wanted to be, spreading my legs, kissing passionately. After a few minutes Jake pulled me on top of him. My cunt pressed against the bulge in his pants and I began to grind against it. Deftly he lifted my blouse, unhooked my bra and took my big tits into his mouth. I wept soundlessly, my pelvis on automatic, grinding a hot sexy dance.
Jake moved his mouth to my ear. “That’s right, honey, grind it,” he whispered encouragingly. In a moment I began to come—after knowing this man half an hour, I was totally uninhibited, writhing on top of his generous body.
After my orgasm subsided I sat up on him, opened his fly and pulled out his gorgeous prick. Jake put his fingers, musky with my juices, into my mouth and thrust them down my throat. I sank down to his cock, opened my mouth and took it in. “Suck it,” he ordered. “Think about it touching your pussy.Think about the head teasing your cunt.” He continued talking a li
teral blue streak, something that drives me crazy. His words spurred me on to more avid sucking.
He reached down with his hand and pulled his cock out of my mouth, rubbing it across my face, smacking it against my cheeks. I looked up at him and murmured, “You know just what I like.”
“I have a feeling you like everything,” he said.
We moved to the bed; Jake produced a condom, placing it on one of his nipples, where it looked sexier than any condom I’d ever seen. He told me to suck some more, which I gladly did. After a few minutes he lifted my head, slid the rubber over his cock, and raised me up, moving me around as effortlessly as if I was indeed a Barbie doll. I lowered my cunt onto his cock, not even noticing it wore latex, leaned forward and let my tits fall into his mouth. He moved his hips slowly, giving me most, but not quite all, of his hard meat.
“Fuck me hard,” I begged.
“Don’t worry, you’ll get it hard,” he said, still holding back. This was clearly a man who would fuck me at his own pace in his own time, and also a man I could trust to do it well.
“Tighten your muscles,” he said, rolling me onto my back.
“Squeeze my cock with your pussy.” I squeezed as hard as I could, desperate to please him. He lifted my legs higher and pumped into me, his bulk and weight driving all resistance from my body.
“Is that enough cock for you?” I groaned.
“Loosen up now,” he grunted. “Let it go. Take me home, baby.” As if I’d been involved in a long arduous struggle, I gave up at last, gratefully surrendering body and soul, totally at his command. Jake drove deeper and deeper into me, finally shuddering as he came.
Since our encounter I’ve been in an absolute fever. I think that Jake is, as my horoscope put it, going to prove to be quite a challenge. It’s a challenge that I’m definitely ready for.
A Closer Encounter
BY BLAKE C. AARENS
She doesn’t like to admit it, but Tasha is lost. It’s been over an hour since she last saw another car.The only illumination is from her headlights, and even on high beam, visibility is poor. She’s a little hungry. A little tired.
The road makes a hairpin turn and there it is. Not lights, not a town, but a wide-open vista point. She can see peak after peak, valley after valley, like the knuckles of interlaced fingers.
Tasha stops the car and gets out. She should be able to see a car coming. If there was a car coming.
There is no car coming.
Tasha stands on a steep ridge somewhere in the Rocky Mountains. She sucks in the thin, cold air. She strains her ears against the silence. She looks up, but heavy clouds blot out the stars.
It comes from below her. An enormous star ship. It rises up from the deep basin of the earth bathed in light. Scarlet . . . vermilion . . . canary . . . aqua . . . indigo . . . violet—a shimmering wave of colored light. Each color muting, then bleeding into the next.
And then the colors are not outside her, but on her, in her. Red at her feet; her belly the color of a navel orange; her breasts heavy with yellow; her heart, a green, pulsing thing beneath them; her blue, blue throat. An indigo eye cracks open in her forehead; the top of her skull explodes in deep purple. Again and again. In waves. Bright, brighter, brightest. An explosion of light behind her eyes.
Then darkness.
She is inside the colors now. Part of the wave. She is encased in a jewel, seeing the world through its facets. The subtle shifts of light are soothing after the roar of color that overwhelmed her.Tasha draws a deep breath of relief. Ease floods into her body. And then she is struck by the fact of her own nakedness. Her clothes were there a moment ago. Not taken off or melted away or torn. Just gone.
And then she sees it.
Many limbed. Twice as tall as Tasha’s five foot eight. It is thick. Heavy, but graceful. Its many arms float slowly toward Tasha’s body. Tasha trembles uncontrollably.The creature’s arms seem to be filling the space, and sooner or later they will catch her.
They do. She is lifted from the ground and cradled. Limbs encircle her waist, raise her chin, cup the back of her head. Imprisonment and embrace at the same time.The creature surrounds Tasha’s entire body, almost encasing her within it. Now it is the creature’s turn to tremble. A continuous loop of pleasure passes between them. A soft tentacle presses her cheek. Another worms its way between her breasts.Tasha twists and moans in the creature’s embrace.The creature echoes her sound. Echoes it and sends the moan back between Tasha’s lips, down her throat, into her belly. The creature begins to stroke her. To press and probe at her body. It studies the curve of her bottom and the swell of her breasts.
The tentacle squirming between Tasha’s breasts ends in a mouth. A tiny, perfect mouth. With pursed lips. And teeth. It wanders over Tasha’s breasts, planting kisses that leave spots of heat all along her skin and make her breath come fast.
An infinite number of tentacles rove all over Tasha’s body. Stroking, caressing, pinching. Nibbling. A tentacle of her own—of her wetness—trails down the inside of Tasha’s thigh.
The tiny, perfect little mouth travels over the roll of her belly, and through the thick bush of her pubic hair, to lick and suck there. Drinking.
More tentacles join the little mouth, pressing inquisitively at Tasha’s groin, spreading her legs, raising her cradled feet in the air, parting of the outer lips of her pussy. At the first contact of that perfect little mouth on her clitoris, her head snaps back, and her eyes roll up into their sockets.
Oh, the sucking.
Limbs and tentacles caress Tasha. Through the thick corkscrews of her hair.
Across her mouth. Down the nape of her neck. All the way down her back. Between her buttocks. Pressing against the tight little hole there. A tongue thicker and more agile than Tasha’s own fills her mouth until she’s forced to breathe out of her nose. She knows what is coming.
Her breasts, first cupped and caressed, are now suckled and bitten by two more, perfect, little, mouths. Tentacles slither between her thighs, spreading her wetness between the two holes. Her body arches in the creature’s embrace, she is in a rolling orgasm, explosions of light between her legs, between her breasts, between her eyes.
And then she is entered.The anal probe of so many UFO stories. But this probe is not cold and metallic, but warm, gnarled and fleshy, oozing a wetness of its own. Pulsing. Entering her where things have only exited. Stretching her open and then filling the space it makes for itself.
And all the tentacles on her pussy. They rub her clitoris. Her opening. One thick limb thumps against her swollen flesh down there, and then begins to press, and press, and press against her. Her inner lips are stretched thin by the width of it. Slippery with all the juice flowing from her body, the creature’s thick limb slips inside, boring into the cave of her. Impaling Tasha. Embracing Tasha. Absorbing Tasha.
The rest area is deserted.The sign carved in native stone reads:
Mayflower, Colorado
Elevation: 4378
Population: 35
Tasha breathes. Her nipples are stiff and sore, they tent the fabric of her t-shirt. She can feel her pulse throbbing in her clitoris through her too-tight jeans. Her pussy and anus feel swollen and a little tender. Tasha takes a slow, deep breath. She starts the engine and turns on the heat. She grabs the blanket from the backseat and wraps it around her. She drives through Mayflower and on out the other end.
Subway
BY YOHANNON
Trying to get comfortable (an almost impossible task standing in a subway car), she felt the hairs on the back of her neck begin to rise. Living in a large city had given her a healthy sense of paranoia, but this was . . . different.
Looking over the crowd, trying to seem casual—there didn’t seem to be an obvious source for the feeling. She was about ready to shrug it off when the train gave out one of those long, drawn-out squeals, and she fell backward into the lap of a young man sitting behind her.
At first apologetic, she felt a bit put off: Why hadn’t h
e offered her a seat? But she quickly suppressed the feeling as a remnant of her small-town upbringing. Also, at her current weight (she seemed to gain another 20 pounds after moving out of her parents’ incredibly strict clutches, giving her a well-rounded and curvy figure, if a trifle bottom heavy), she was certain that she could have injured the poor man.
The “poor man” in question seemed to be in good humor about having her in his lap, and was trying to help her up, when the lights went out.
The train had come to a stop between stations, the sudden darkness producing the usual babble, moans and groans from the passengers. The stranger’s hands, currently holding her waist, seemed to pause. She could almost hear him pondering the situation, when a sudden jolt as the train tried to move forward again sent her sitting fully in his lap.
Even through the skirt she could feel his obvious excitement, which took her breath away. She hadn’t been feeling very attractive of late, and this evidence of his lust left her confused and (to her own surprise) quite excited. His arms were now around her waist, no longer quick to assist her to her feet, and she found that the feeling of his strong legs under her rump caused her to moisten in ways that made her blush.
She placed her hands over his, and he started to move them away. She clutched them tighter, and pulled them around her, pulling them up slightly. Thus encouraged, he began to relax, rubbing his hands over her ample belly and just below her breasts. She felt herself responding to the thrill of the situation, suppressing the more “sensible” part of her brain that shrilled about how dangerous this was.
Over-ruling it, she took one of his hands and, very deliberately (and before she could chicken out) placed it on one full breast.The other hand she nudged downward, too frightened to go through with moving it to where she wanted it to go, secretly hoping he would get the hint.