by Carol Queen
Your eyes open and you see me in the doorway.You smile.
Shameless.You’re fucking looking at me and not even caring that you’ve broken your agreement with me, that you and Cora are still fucking when I walk in the door. But you don’t stop, you don’t ask Cora to stop. Instead, you blow me a kiss.
Then Cora lifts her head from your pussy and turns to look over her shoulder, her face glistening in the flicker of candlelight.You always light candles when you fuck.
Cora smiles.
“Hi, Mike,” she says, and winks at me.
Then she goes back to eating your pussy.
Watching you, I feel my cock stirring in my pants.You’ve locked eyes with me and I can’t look away.Your lips part and you start moaning again as Cora returns to tonguing your clit.You’ve described that technique to me many times, told me how she does it, but I’ve never quite been able to get it perfect. Cora has got it perfect. I can tell you’re going to come.
I think back on the conversation we had where we negotiated this. “We’ll be done by midnight, and she’ll sleep on the couch,” you said. “I promise, you won’t have to see anything.”
“It’s all right if you’re not done by midnight,” I said. “Just make sure you close the bedroom door.”
You smiled, kissed me on the forehead. “Oh, we’ll close the bedroom door,” you told me. Then, with a wicked smile, you added: “Unless we want you to join in.”
At the time, I’d blown it off, thinking from the girlish giggle you gave that you were just teasing me. After all, Cora’s a lesbian, isn’t she? A dyed-in-the-wool femme Kinsey six, you told me. I ignored it.
But after all, a deal is a deal.
We should negotiate this, shouldn’t we? Fuck it.The die is cast.
I take my clothes off.You watch me as I do, never offering a protest, just moaning in time with Cora’s tongue on your clit. Cora doesn’t even look up until I’m already naked, until my cock is standing out straight and hard and I’m next to the bed, watching from an improved vantage point as her face works up and down between your thighs.That’s when she looks up at me and smiles.
“Oooh,” she said. “I thought you’d never ask.”
She reaches up and grabs my cock, pulling me down onto the bed. Her mouth, the mouth that’s moved so skillfully on your clit, closes over my cock and she swallows it down, her lips working up and down on my shaft as I look down into her pretty face. She’s got her eyes upturned toward me, and in the candlelight I can see the shimmer inside them.You lean forward and wrap your fingers around the base of my cock, feeling Cora’s lips linger halfway down my shaft.
“Cora hasn’t sucked cock in ten years,” you say. “Don’t you feel honored?”
“Hell, yes,” I say, as your face burrows under Cora’s and you begin to kiss my balls. I kneel there on the bed not knowing what to do, but Cora’s sprawled out under me with her gorgeous ass looking delectable, and her legs are spread wide. I’m enough taller than her that I can lean over and reach between them.
When I touch her pussy I feel how incredibly wet it is. Her whole body stiffens, and for a moment I think I’ve gone too far. Then she moans rapturously, the vibrations traveling through my hard cock and into my body, and she starts to suck my cock in earnest as I finger her pussy.
You kneel on the bed and kiss me, your tongue lazing into my mouth as you run your fingers through my hair. “She wants you to fuck her,” you whisper. “She’s been talking about it all night.”
“I thought she was a Kinsey six,” I hiss.
“Haven’t you heard?” you whisper. “There’s a new scale. She’s right in the middle.”
Then you lean down close to her and say, “Mike’s going to fuck you now, Cora.”
You guide me around behind her, and I slide easily between her spread thighs.The rings of her lips prickle my shaft as I slide into her. She gasps, her pussy tight as it embraces me.You position yourself at her face, spreading your legs so she can eat you as I fuck her from behind. Her hand goes underneath her and she starts to work her own clit. I fuck her slowly at first, picking up speed as she begs “Harder,” her fingers moving faster on her clit as she urges me on. Then I feel her pussy clenching around my shaft as she moans into your cunt, and that’s all it takes to send me over the edge. As she finishes coming, I let myself go inside her, filling her with my come.
The three of us crawl up on the bed, and Cora and I start kissing while you cuddle up next to us and watch, lazily stroking your cunt. I can taste your pussy on her mouth.
“I guess you’re not a six any more,” I say.
“Let’s call it five point five,” she whispers, and curves her fingers around my soft cock, slick with her juices.You kiss my ear, your tongue warm.
The Real Reason I Have Long Hair
BY RACHEL KRAMER BUSSEL
My grandmother wants me to cut my hair. I don’t want to. I can’t tell her why, but I can tell you.
It all started after a night out with a friend.We were sitting in her car after she’d driven me home. I’d called the friend I was staying with minutes earlier to let her know that I’d be home soon. I leaned over to give her a hug and thank her for the evening, and in a split-second the entire tenor of the evening changed. It went from an innocent hug to a goodnight kiss, and then it happened: she pulled my hair. And she didn’t pull it lightly, by the split ends, the kind of tug a 6-year-old uses to tease the girl sitting next to him. No, it wasn’t like that at all. It wasn’t like anything I’d ever experienced before. She grabbed my hair by its roots near the back of my neck, and, using a surprising amount of force, tugged me by the hair. I felt that pull run right through my body and my cunt tightened.With each pull, I felt almost like I was getting fucked, or teased, the way the intensity built up and up until I could hardly breathe. It was a magical, thrilling moment that not only caught me off guard but also got me as aroused as I’ve ever been.
Having long hair has always been a sensual experience for me. When I’m naked after a shower and my hair has just dried, I love to lean back as far as I can and feel my hair caress my back like a lover, brushing against the curves of my ass. I love to tease my lovers with my hair, flicking it back and forth as I flirt, dangling it over their skin while we make love. I can use my long hair to flirt with, or to hide behind. It’s also a bit of a camouflage; some people make assumptions that girls with long hair are “nice” and we’re not supposed to be as brazen as girls who’ve chopped all their locks off. Long hair is supposed to be a bit dowdy, a bit old-fashioned, but for me it’s not; it’s intimately connected to my sexuality. And in many ways my actions are like a girl with short hair; I’m very independent, headstrong, outspoken. But there is a totally girlish side of me, one that delights in something as seemingly retro as long hair.
Every time it’s too hot out or my hair gets too frizzy, I have the urge to take a pair of scissors and chop it off, lose the split ends and extra care long hair requires, maybe cooler, or dykier, in the process. But always, always, I resist. Long hair makes me feel powerful, sexy, beautiful, and every time I’ve cut it off, I’ve missed it desperately.
In a total act of topping from the bottom, I often command my lovers to pull my hair, hard. When they do, it sends shivers throughout my body, a current of energy channeling from the roots of my hair directly to my cunt. I get frenzied and frantic as they pull over and over, each tug building on the next. It’s like being teased, touched lightly or indirectly when you just want to be pounded hard. Because while having my hair pulled can bring me right up to the brink of orgasm, it alone is not enough, and that maddening tease, that thrill as the sensations chase me closer and closer, is like nothing else.
When I’m having an intense hair pulling session, I lose myself completely, get frantic and needy and one hundred percent out of control. I want things I’ve never wanted before when my hair is being pulled, things that scare me and test my boundaries. Tears spring to my eyes, but they’re not from a direct sense of pain, because it doe
sn’t hurt, at least not in the way I understand pain. When a lover pulls my hair just right, with that perfect combination of domination and affection, my head bends back in pure submission and delight. Parts of me I don’t usually think of as erogenous zones come to life.The girl who pulled my hair and almost made me come under the street lamp also pinched my neck (something nobody had ever done before), precisely and deliberately coinciding with her hair pulling, sending further spasms throughout my splayed-out body.
On vacation with my lover, he was pulling my hair as I straddled him, our bodies rubbing together, and all of a sudden, I wanted him to slap me, hard, across the face. I’d never wanted that or anything like it before, and the thought and image scared me even as they turned me on. I opened my mouth but couldn’t get any words out, couldn’t voice this seemingly wrong desire. So he kept pulling my hair and biting my nipples, working me into such a frenzy I thought I would explode. I knew that all of this pain-as-pleasure stuff was new to him, but it was also new to me, in a way; I didn’t expect his hair pulling to have such an effect. It can totally make me lose my balance, both mental and physical, spin me and twist me around so I hardly know where I am or what I want.That kind of dizzying desire is scary, but also special (perhaps because it’s so scary).
It’s also a special kind of activity, not something I do with every lover. That very first night, what made it so special was the surprise element, the way I didn’t know what would come next or where she would take me.What makes me keep wanting more and more is that I still don’t know what will come next—what bizarre thoughts and fantasies will enter my mind and body when someone pulls my hair.
So now you know my secret, the reason I put up with the knots and tangles and hassles of having hair halfway down my back. It’s not just a fashion statement; it’s a sexual proclamation for those who are bold enough to handle it. Just don’t tell my grandmother.
Gwen Is Wet
BY DAVID HENRY STERRY
First day of soccer practice, and someone’s staring.When Gwen turned around and caught him, he didn’t look away. His eyes are so deep and blue, Gwen thought, as she dove into them. He was almost smiling. Like he wanted something from her.When Gwen closed her eyes to go to sleep that night she saw that look. Hungry. Blue.
He was the new coach. 20-ish. Even when he was standing still, the muscles in his thighs looked like cinder blocks. Gwen caught herself staring. He wore paper-thin t-shirts from Brazil, Ireland, Germany, Mozambique, Mazatlan.Where he’d been. Kissing beautiful exotic women, Gwen caught herself imagining. She’d only had one boyfriend, and when he kissed her, he jammed his mouth onto hers hard. So she broke up with him. New Coach had curly brown hair and a crooked nose from when it was broken. A scar over one of his blue eyes.Where did that scar come from? Gwen wondered.
Gwen stared at her naked body in the mirror in her girly room. Whose breasts are those? They looked beautiful to her, like a painting in a museum. But they didn’t seem like hers.That strange new fullness between her legs. She felt as if she had a new Christmas present, but someone had forgotten to tell her how it works.
New Coach was coming over. Gwen still couldn’t believe she’d gotten up the nerve to ask him. She hadn’t told any of her friends. Which was odd, because Gwen told her friends everything.That made Gwen nervous. And her parents were gone for the weekend. Gone, gone, gone. That made Gwen very nervous.
Gwen opened the front door, and the New Coach was standing there. Almost smiling. Hungry. Blue. In a paper-thin faded t-shirt from Monte Carlo with red shorts over his large brown legs.
Then they were sitting on the couch.Talking.
“So, where are your parents?” he asked.
“Oh, they’re away for the weekend,” Gwen said, with an air of casual offhandedness that didn’t fool anyone.
“Really ...” he said, almost smiling.
My God, those eyes are blue, Gwen found herself thinking. “So, where do you wanna watch the video?” Gwen asked.
“Anywhere,” said the New Coach.
“How about up in my room?” slipped out of her, and once it was out, there was no taking it back.
“Sure,” he almost smiled.
Something inside Gwen heated up, stole her breath, made her blood flow.
He’s sitting next to Gwen on her bed, watching his soccer video. Goal after goal crashed into nets. Men hugging. Kissing. Crowd going crazy. His thick brown leg was so close she could feel the heat coming off it.The longer Gwen sat there not watching goal after goal being rammed home, the more confused Gwen became.Why is he just sitting there?
Finally Gwen realized: I’m the one that’s hungry. Is he hungry, too?
“Gooooooooooooooooooooooooooaaaalll!” erupted every thirty seconds on the soundtrack. He’s not going to do anything.
He can’t. It would be creepy if he did. It’s my move, Gwen, thought. My move.
“I’ve . . . been having, uh ... problems with my back, and I was wondering . . . if you could . . . stretch me?” she asked.
“Sure,” he almost smiled.
She was on her back. He was standing over her. He bent down and put his huge hands on her legs, freshly shaved, and he was staring into her so blue, his voice soft, hypnotic and hungry:
“Breathe.”
She breathed.
“Deep,” he said. “Let it go, Gwen.”
How am I supposed to let it go, Gwen thought, when I don’t even know what it is?
He pulled her right knee up into her chest, then moved her right knee across her body, stretching her torso, his huge hand spreading strong across the outside of her thigh, the other above her breast.
“Breathe . . . ” he said, “deep.”
She breathed. Deep.
He stretched her, deep into her big muscles, all the way inside her, whoosh, a deep spinal relief, the tight unloosening with every breath. Gently he pushed while she breathed, one huge hand drifting onto her pelvis over her white underpants.
Gwen is wet.
She wants to give him something. She wants to get something from him.
Gwen saw it outlined against his thin red shorts. Hard. Then his enormous thumb was pressing firm gentle and hungry, fitting perfectly against her, and Gwen felt herself stick to her white underpants, hotly and wetly, pressing into his thumb, and she sighed hard, shivered and shook.
She smelled him. Smelled her. Smelled sex.
She felt him through his thin red shorts. Moved him so instead of his thumb pressing against her, she felt him pressing against her, sliding along her wet with the rhythm of their breath.
“Breathe, Gwen,” he whispered in her ear, laid his chest on her chest, bodies melting into each other.
She breathed.
Sucked on his lip like a hungry calf, his breath warm and sweet.
She pushed into him.Wrapped around him. Sliding.
Gwen shivered a shudder she shook. She felt his hunger. Hard and deep. Her new body was hungry. For his hunger.
Suddenly it was skin on skin. Wet. Sweet. Warm. His breath on her new breasts, only they didn’t seem so strange now, they’re wired with heat, right into her wet, in her belly, deep as he sucked on her, licked her moan to the bone.That’s me, Gwen found herself thinking, I’m the one moaning.
“Are you sure?” he whispered.
Gwen was sure. Pushed against him, trying to will him inside. She grabbed him hard, the soft hot rock flesh, pulling him in, saying yes.
She didn’t know exactly how it happened, but they were incredibly naked.
She grabbed at him with her wet, felt herself climbing waves washing over her, shooting through her heart, growling through her throat, springing from her mouth, out her eyes, into his blue hunger.
“Are you sure?” he whispered.
Gwen felt her wet welling, her new breasts pressed to his chest, his blue, she knew how much he wanted, she wanted. Gwen swallowed him and squeezed him so hard so large and hot filling her she holds him there inside her wet she squeezes shive
rs shakes, lava flowing through her core to the root to the stem, a melt, giving it to him, taking it from him, letting it go. She made a sound she never heard, a rock-steady pagan rumbling tremble. I want, she said with her eyes, deeper, deepest, and he’s trembling, trying to hold back but she’s sucking him into her, swimming in his blue. He tries to pull back but she grabs him and wraps her legs around him, grabbing him deep inside her hunger, the soft of his blue, and they shiver shake shudder into each other.
Finally he smiled.
“Gooooooooooooooooooooooall!”
Lunch Meeting
BY MARIE SUDAC
I show up at your office just in time for lunch. I know I shouldn’t, but I sneaked a look at your datebook and saw that you don’t have anything planned for today at noon.The receptionist is on the phone; she recognizes me and waves me in. Everyone in the offices surrounding you has already slipped out for lunch. I find you in your office on the phone, talking about some contract or something. I close the door, pull the blinds, and look at you.
You register surprise as I pull up my short, businesslike skirt. I’m not wearing any panties, just a pair of thigh-high black stockings with lace tops that hook to my garters. I’ve shaved for you.
I pull my skirt back down and start toward you.
I come around the side of your desk as you say “Uh-huh, uh-huh. Okay, tell him to add the reversion clause.” I’m down on my knees in an instant, and I have your pants open before you can say “Mike, I’ll have to call you back. I’m late for a lunch meeting.” By the time I hear the phone hit its cradle, I’ve got your cock in my mouth and it’s getting hard quickly. My lips slide up and down on your shaft and I press it back until it touches the back of my throat. You’re moaning softly, your hands going through my hair. I suck your cock until you’re good and hard, and then I look up at you and see in your fiery eyes how much you want me.
I pull my skirt back up and climb into your lap, facing you. I guide your cock, sticky with my spit, between my lips. As I sink down on you, I’m a little surprised at how wet I am, at how good it feels. I knew I’d be turned on, but I swear I could almost come as I feel the thick head of your cock pressing against the walls of my pussy. I lean forward and kiss you on the lips, my tongue teasing yours as you moan. I start to fuck myself up and down on top of you, unbuttoning my shirt to free my breasts in their tight push-up bra. I pop one breast out of its cup and guide the hard nipple to your mouth; you start to suck it as I continue grinding my hips up and down on top of you, pushing your cock into me.