‘Hera! Babe! The Cap here made us an interstellar offer we just couldn’t refuse.’
This is just too good to be happening, Hera thought, watching the humans strip and join them in the bed.
But it must be happening. How, otherwise, was she to account for the overwhelming feeling that someone, somewhere, was watching?
Laundry Day
by Sommer Marsden
The cell phone vibrated in my pocket and I ducked into the copy room, a huge stack of papers clutched to my chest, to peek.
You know what today is. That was the entire message and my stomach felt like it was floating and falling simultaneously as I read it.
Just to draw out the excitement I typed nothing more than ???. Then I hit send and wandered back down the hall, feeling slightly stunned with anticipation.
I’d known all day what today was, but I hadn’t let myself think about it until Clark’s text had come across to vibrate and titillate.
The phone went off in my skirt pocket again and this time the motion of it went straight to my already wet pussy. I read it stealthily, shielding my shaking hand with the giant stack of papers I plunked down on my desk.
Don’t be coy. Just 7 hours to go. Are you ready?
A small rush of fluid graced the crotch of my panties and I tried my best to keep my hands steady as I answered. Of course I am. XOXO
‘What’re you up to tonight?’
I damn near dropped the phone when I started, giving a little cry. Madeline eyed me suspiciously. ‘Sorry,’ I said to my cubicle mate.
‘You need to cut back on the caffeine, Jade,’ she said. She rolled her eyes, but smiled at me.
‘Sorry. I was … lost in thought.’
‘So, what are you doing tonight? Wednesday night, not exactly the hot night of the week.’ She dumped some debris from a desk drawer into her waste can. ‘I have a date with the end of a good book and a bottle of Riesling.’
‘I have …’ My tongue was sticking to the roof of my mouth I was so jacked up. My God, why had Clark sent that message? All I had in my mind now were tumbling images of naked bodies and kissing and fucking. ‘Chores.’
‘Oh, chores!’ she sang out. ‘Wow. You are a wild one, Jade. What kind of chores?’
‘Just … laundry,’ I said, my voice semi-hysterical. I sounded so bizarre even to myself that I had to laugh. But the laugh was high and wild and borderline crazy woman.
Madeline levelled a finger at me as her phone rang. ‘Seriously, girl, cut the caffeine.’
Then she took her call and I pressed my thighs together tighter to keep them from shaking.
‘Are you ready?’ Clark asked, pushing me to the wall and kissing me deeply before I could answer.
My whole body reacted to him pinning me there. My whole being fell into that kiss. I parted my lips and let his tongue sweep over mine aggressively as he pushed his already hard cock to the front of me. It was a hot, hard line down the front of my soft silk skirt. Pressing the sodden split of my sex and making my clit thump in time with my pulse.
‘I am. You know I am.’
‘Chores tonight, love,’ he laughed and started to unbutton my raincoat. The day has been grey and somewhat rainy.
‘I’m worried. What if it rains too hard for us to see?’
‘It won’t,’ Clark said, spinning me as he peeled my coat off to hang it on the coat tree by the door. ‘I promise.’ He kissed me once more, pausing to pinch my nipples through my crisp white blouse. My body sang with the bite of pain that was followed by a pleasure chaser. ‘The lights in that room are insanely bright.’
I nodded and pushed my breasts into his hands, letting him kiss me once more. We were ravenous for each other come Wednesday nights. Sex was not an issue for us, we had it often and it was good, but Wednesday held a mystical quality. As if something otherworldly happened on Wednesday.
‘I know. I know,’ I said, pushing my hand down into his black trousers. His cock was still hard – felt harder, in fact, though I knew that was probably my imagination – and I gave it a squeeze. Just to say hi.
‘Don’t do that, Jade. I might come like a teenager.’
I laughed and let him lead me into the kitchen. He checked the chicken in the oven – his lemon chicken, I could tell by the lovely rosemary-citrus smell – and I checked the small window over our kitchen sink. There it was, as expected, a brightly lit rectangle of glass. The laundry room window for our neighbours across the alley.
Wednesday nights they did laundry and fucked during the first dryer load. Wednesday nights we had dinner and fucked while watching them fuck during the first dryer load. It was a win-win situation. A secret situation, but I liked to think we’d created a beneficial symbiosis. Everyone got fucked and Clark and I had a secret thrill, a naughty Wednesday night tradition that kept the spark alive in the bedroom – or the kitchen, actually.
‘See, good to go. No need to worry,’ he said, smacking my ass and then at the last second cupping his hand to my bottom and giving me a squeeze.
I sighed before I caught myself.
‘Like that?’ he murmured against the back of my neck.
The sensation had my nipples pebbling inside my bra and my belly aching low and heavy with a need to be with him. To feel him inside me.
I could only nod.
‘Tell me.’
‘I like it.’
‘I need proof.’ I heard him chuckle and his hands, warm and familiar, slipped below the waistband of my skirt and then down into my panties. His fingers stretched to find my clit and he pressed and swirled over and over again until my fingers curled to the lip of the sink.
‘We’re supposed to … wait,’ I managed, though my voice had come down to a growl I was so close to coming.
His teeth found my earlobe, my neck, my shoulder. ‘Think of this as an appetiser for you, wife.’
I nodded repeatedly like a deranged bobblehead – I sure as hell felt like one at the moment – and pressed my eager body against his seeking hand. When I came, I bit my lower lip to keep my outburst tamed.
I shuddered against the sink, against his fingers and felt my heart pounding in my temples. ‘God, Clark.’
‘You can thank me later,’ he said and moved from me to wash his hands.
Our dinner was delicious but we barely tasted it because our excitement was so high – barely contained.
At six o’clock the oven timer went off and we went through the house like a well-practised heist team, shutting off lights and drawing all blinds but for the kitchen. In that small darkened room, we stripped bare and stood, holding our breath, near the sink to watch them enter.
I found Clark’s cock in the near darkness and wrapped my hand around his heated length. I squeezed him so that he made a noise that always made my cunt wet – made it flex. I swept my thumb over the tip of him, feeling the delicious silken drag of his precome across his glans.
‘Here they come,’ he said, his voice a little rougher than normal. I imagined it was due to me stroking his cock with exaggerated slowness.
And there they were. Our across-the-way neighbours. The Donaldsons or the Davidsons or … something like that. All we knew was we joked about them being our Wednesday night fuck buddies.
‘Oh look,’ I sighed as Mr Donaldson/Davidson, just a moment after the Mrs started their first load, swept his wife up and deposited her on the now running washing machine. ‘He’s starting early this week.’
And he was. He’d dropped to his knees, crouching there between her parted legs. She helped him get her yoga pants off by lifting her hips. Clark pressed hard against the back of me and cupped my mound. Just cupped it. Nothing more, nothing less. But that bit of pressure on my sex had my blood racing.
When the Mrs was bare, our neighbour went ahead and kissed the small amount of down on her mound. Then he pried her legs far apart and I watched, holding my breath, as his tongue darted out to taste her. I moaned and Clark echoed me.
‘This is new,’ I said.
He nodded, saying nothing else. A few more licks and he was burying his face against her pussy, eating her in earnest as Mrs Donaldson/Davidson clutched the edge of the vibrating washer, her head tossed back, eyes shut in pleasure.
I almost jumped when I felt Clark’s tongue press to me. He’d dropped to his knees and insinuated himself between me and the cabinet door beneath our sink. He stayed wedged that way, tasting my nether lips, flicking his tongue against my clit as I watched them. Seeing her pleasure enhanced mine and I found myself shoving my pussy against Clark’s eager mouth, not remembering to use my manners at all.
‘She’s coming,’ I breathed, my voice nothing more than a puff of air.
Clark nodded eagerly, sucking my pussy with his demanding mouth, his tongue darting every which way so I was always locked in pleasure but could never anticipate his movements. ‘Good, give it to me,’ he said and pushed a finger into my sopping cunt.
I gave it to him, pleasure firing off in my body like hot electric jolts. I came with the heel of my hand shoved to my mouth – my fear always being that the people across the way would hear us somehow and then they’d know our dirty little secret.
‘They’re doing it, they’re doing it,’ I babbled, gripping the edge of the sink for dear life. As if the world would fly away and I would fall through the floor should I let it go. He had me so worked up my lips were trembling, my face tingling.
‘Kiss me,’ Clark said, turning me for just a second away from the light of the window and the couple on show there.
I kissed him. Softly at first and then more roughly as he made demands of me with his hands and his words. ‘Lick yourself off my lips,’ he said, grinning in the stark splash of light from the window across the way. It painted his face with dots of white and I could see his lips wet with my juices.
I did as he asked, licking his lips and kissing him eagerly as he held my wrists tight in his hands, keeping them down by my side so I couldn’t touch him.
When his lips were clean of me and I could smell myself on his skin and mine, I begged. ‘Please. Let’s …’
He nodded, turned me, planted my hands on the edge of the counter and knocked my legs apart, wide enough to accommodate him.
‘I’ve been waiting for this all week, Jade.’
I nodded, shivering a little in the chill as the rain picked up to a driving staccato outside our window. I could still see them, though, in the silver spotlight of their laundry room overheads. The driving rain was nothing more than falling tinsel on the scene. It didn’t hinder at all, if anything it made me feel safer from discovery.
As Mr Donaldson/Davidson parted his wife’s pretty pout with his fingers and slid the tip of his cock to her entrance, Clark mimicked him. His fingers on my slit and his cock sliding along my opening had me feeling so weak I locked my knees to keep from falling.
As our neighbour slowly drove into his wife, Clark slid into me. His hands rough on my hips as he held me steady to fill me in a short thrust that rocked me forward on the tips of my toes. His mouth came down – hot and wet – on the back of my neck, forcing all the fine hairs on my skin to stand at attention.
‘He’s fucking her,’ I whispered.
‘And I’m fucking you,’ he said, licking my skin. I knew that no matter what he was doing back there, he was watching them over my shoulder, getting off on the tableau they offered as surely as I was.
I leaned forward a bit, grinding myself back against him. Clark growled, gripping my hips so tight I felt branded by his touch.
Mr Donaldson/Davidson was slamming into the Mrs. His mouth was moving as he held her steady and fucked her hard. I wished I could hear what he was saying. But I imagined it to be filthy and rude and perfect. I whimpered and Clark said, ‘Hold on, hold on. I want you to come with me.’
I could tell our neighbour was about to do his trick. He did it every week and it was one of the reasons we liked to watch what we considered our own little porn movie.
He reached around to touch his wife, his fingers rolling vigorously, but not seen in detail by us, in front of her arching body. No doubt he strummed her clitoris expertly as he fucked her. Her head tossed back, her lips parted in a silent cry. I whimpered again, pushing my own fingers to my clit, sliding my wet digits over my plump clit.
Clark grabbed my hair and wound it around his hand to pull my head back, hold me still, to claim my momentary submission. That made me whimper a third time and then he whispered, as the Mrs across the way was clearly, but silent to us, singing out her orgasm, ‘Here it comes.’
I held my breath, my fingers still moving, every driving thrust of Clark’s cock into my aching pussy accenting that moment in time. He’d repeatedly slammed my G-spot with each entry and now I was trembling, perched there on the edge of release.
As his wife continued to shudder and shake, Mr Donaldson/Davidson withdrew and he came, in great arching jets, all over her lower back. Painting her skin with the evidence of his pleasure.
I came too, biting my lip so hard I tasted the coppery tang of blood.
‘Jesus,’ Clark growled, driving into me once, twice, three more times and then coming with a low groan that sounded like he was dying.
It made me laugh and then he was laughing too, both of us ducking low below the window sill so we couldn’t be discovered. He kissed me and I kissed him back.
‘Happy laundry night, Jade.’ He tweaked my nipple and I jumped.
‘We don’t do laundry until Saturday,’ I teased.
‘Hey, their laundry night is way more fun than ours.’
This time I pinched his nipple and he jumped. ‘Maybe we need to do something about that. Maybe both laundry nights can be fun.’
‘I like the way you think,’ he said.
So did I.
Private Performance
by Lucy Felthouse
It wasn’t at all surprising that Robyn’s hormones were in overdrive. She was watching London’s most popular male dance troupe, after all. As well as being incredibly talented, they were also super-sexy. They had rabid fans that followed them everywhere, battling for front-row seats, screaming and waving throughout the show, then dashing outside afterwards, hoping to catch the men leaving so they could beg for autographs and photos. They were as obsessive as the fans of any boy band, maybe more so. Robyn got it, totally, but she wasn’t quite in that league. Not outwardly, anyway.
She, too, followed the group everywhere she possibly could, spending her hard-earned cash on the best tickets money could buy. For once, she was glad to be a City banker, meaning she could afford it without having to worry about paying her bills and mortgage.
What made her different, though, was her behaviour post-performance. She didn’t head backstage or outside, hoping to see the boys. Instead, she dashed straight home and masturbated herself into blissful oblivion over thoughts of a single member of the group. Sean Rudd. She’d lost count of the number of orgasms she’d had while fantasising about him.
Her feelings for him could definitely be counted as obsessive. Ever since she’d first seen the group – after being dragged along unwillingly by some work friends – she’d been hooked on Sean. She wasn’t even sure why. He wasn’t the best-looking of the guys, though of course he was far from ugly. There was just something about him, and given that she’d never been that close – no closer than the front row, anyway – to him, let alone spoken to him, she couldn’t put her finger on it.
The way he moved was undoubtedly a huge turn-on; she’d always had a thing for men that could dance and, in the absence of Justin Timberlake, Sean took the number one fantasy spot. But then, all five of the troupe could dance brilliantly. And they were all good-looking with great bodies. So why Sean?
The thought bugged Robyn on and off throughout the show. She studied each man in turn, then allowed her gaze to remain on her personal favourite. Their perfectly choreographed moves brought them close to the front of the stage. He caught her eye and winked. She was grateful that the spotlights weren
’t on her, because she felt an intense heat wash over her face, then zip straight down her body and to her groin. It was then that she got it. The reason that – for her, at least – Sean stood out.
It was all in the attitude. He had raw sex appeal. The other guys, although good, looked as though to them it was just a job. They had no massive love for what they were doing and were probably just trying to earn enough money to get them through university. Sean, however, was a bit older than the others. Perhaps he, too, had started dancing to pay for an education but had discovered he liked it so much that he didn’t want to leave. Whatever the reason, Robyn was incredibly glad he was there.
She stared unashamedly at him as he moved around the stage, muscles flexing, bum wiggling, and a big grin on his face. He looked damn good, and he also looked like he was having the time of his life. Provocative steps as part of the routine had the crowd screaming – heaven knows what would happen if the boys took any more clothes off – and Sean loved it. Loved the attention, the adoration. He lapped it all up like a cat with a bowl of the finest cream.
The idea of lapping, and cream, sent Robyn’s mind into the gutter. Thoughts of Sean spreading her legs and eating her eager pussy filled her mind to the point that everything else faded away. The screaming women, the thumping music, the electric atmosphere. It was all gone, except for him. She continued to watch him bopping around the stage, getting mildly irritated when any of the other guys got in her way. Soon, though, she had the most perfect view – better than she could ever have hoped for.
He was right in front of her. And just when their routine became particularly sexed-up, too. Robyn thought she’d died and gone to heaven, especially when he started thrusting his hips in her direction. She was vaguely aware of the screams of the women around her growing louder, and, if it was even possible, shriller. She resisted the temptation to cover her ears.
Her mouth grew drier by the second as she watched him. She felt like a starving woman at a buffet as she drank in the sight before her eyes; his grinning face, mischievous blue eyes, sweat-slicked dark hair, delicious torso, smooth but for the slim line of hair running from his belly button and down into the waistband of his tiny shorts. Her gaze didn’t go any further than his shorts, however; the bulging crotch in front of her face did a damn good job of keeping her attention. That was until, suddenly, his face was in the area she’d been gawping at. He was crouching down and beckoning to her.
Deliberate Display - five erotic voyeur and exhibitionist stories Page 5