Best Women's Erotica 2010

by Violet Blue

  “Yeah, I suppose.”

  To my giddy relief their footsteps drift away and their high-pitched chatter fades.

  I drop my hands from the ragged hay and release the glove from my mouth. My arse is on fire, my pussy demands attention, but I can’t do this. Not here. Not now. The risks are too great. That was too bloody close.

  He apparently has other ideas and before I can utter a word he’s on me. His tongue plunges into my mouth and his arms pull me to the floor beneath him. “We can’t…” I whimper, fighting to hold on to my thin thread of sanity.

  “Shh…” he soothes, his dense weight pinning me to the carpet of hay. Sharp little spikes prod at my bare bottom and the tops of my legs. He kisses me hard and I feel his erection shoving against my naked mound, offering its glorious length and girth even through his trousers, rubbing me, tempting me.

  Thinking gives way to feeling.

  I kiss him back. We have to get on with this—quick.

  He takes the hint and rocks to his heels. I make out his bent shoulders and hear the zip of his flies. Then he’s back over me, determined and heavy. He’s going to be big and hard and in one hell of a rush. I throb with longing, tremble with anticipation.

  But he has other ideas, instead of going for a fast missionary he grabs my legs and folds my knees onto the thick material of the top I’m still wearing. He then loops my booted feet over his wide shoulders and pulls my burning buttocks up onto his bent knees. I let out a whimper of frustration. I need to be filled. Now. I just want him to get on with it in the most efficient way possible. Nothing fancy when we’re playing with fire.

  He nudges to find my damp opening, takes aim and then in one sharp thrust buries his penis to the hilt. The whole length of him pushes up against my womb and his width spreads me wider than ever before. I go to cry in pain and delight but no sound emerges. His hand is clamped across my mouth. I can’t tell him how good it feels to have his hard wedge of flesh burning me on the inside the same way he’s scorched me on the out.

  He pulls back a fraction and then shoves in with a barely audible grunt of approval. Totally dominant, perversely confident, he’s silk on steel. I can hardly move as he thrusts again and again. He removes his hand from my mouth and sends it to massage the burn on my buttocks. The other finds my clit and he circles and frets as his cock works my internal spot.

  I bite hard on my lip, taste a draw of blood. The hay weaves into my hair and clothes as I’m rammed several inches upward and then pulled back down with his demanding thrusts.

  Swirls of delicious, greedy sensations pump through my vagina; breathtaking electricity jumps to my clit. The tension builds, grows, mounts, one more hard pound…one more loop of his fingers…and I’ll roller coaster over the edge of heaven. I need it now; I hold a breath in tormented anticipation of the explosion.

  “What the fuck!” he swears and backs out of me with a slippery jump.

  The hay by my ear rustles and my body tenses to the point of actually breaking bones. My legs drop from his shoulders and I feel a pressure land on my chest.

  It’s the damn stable cat!

  “Get the hell out of here,” I hiss furiously and push to my elbows to shift his inquisitive body.

  “Meow…” He leaps with suitable indignation and melts into the darkness. I can feel erratic heartbeats skipping in my chest; I may well be having a heart attack. “We should stop, this is too close for comfort,” I gasp.

  Within a second I’m flat on my back and being rammed into again, unable to voice any further opinion. His tongue plunges into my mouth in time with his thrusting hips. My legs are free at his side leaving his pubis perfectly positioned to connect with my clit. Over and over and over he grinds. My hips arch to greet his. This is too good to walk away from. Could a person die of pleasure? Could a person die of shame?

  I can feel myself panting, desperate for oxygen. The cold whooshing into my lungs and mixing with the heat of his urgency is the strongest drug in the world. Sweat rises over me and need races across my nerve endings. “Don’t,” I whisper by his ear. “Don’t stop…”

  His lips find my neck and he sucks—hard—to the point of more pain and I know he’s losing control. Deep within me his cock goes as rigid as any cock can go. He’s as near to coming as I am.

  “God, yes…yes,” he hisses into my hair, his voice harsh and hoarse.

  His approval sends me reeling. Heat erupts on my flesh as my eyes flash open to the darkness. A low, guttural moan rumbles to the tip of my tongue only to be devoured by his hot mouth. His hips jerk with unimaginable power as his cock flays my nerve endings into a blissful state of no return. Pleasure overtakes me, holds me high on the precipice between the buildup and the inevitable convulsions, and then, then I let myself fall into oblivion.

  His whole body bucks above me and joins me in the same climactic moment of euphoria. “Oh, yes…there, baby, that’s good… God, you’re so fucking good.” It’s the most he’s ever said to me.

  He drives deeper still as his mouth tears from mine and his shoulder muscles turn to granite. My internal muscles spasm and clench him, squeeze out every second of his orgasm and mix it with my own in a wild caress of joy.

  His cheek slides against my face, rough and sharp with stubble. He tries to internalize his primeval groan but doesn’t manage. I cushion it in my mouth to keep us as quiet as possible.

  His weight slumps, squashes down on me. He’s heavy and uncomfortable but I rejoice in his all-consuming exhaustion. The exhaustion I’m responsible for.

  The moment doesn’t last long; we haven’t the luxury of time. All too soon he’s up and out, leaving me empty and hollow. But I can still feel him in me, doing his stuff, delighting my insides.

  My jodhpurs land in a heap on my lap and he pulls at my boots. With shaking, fumbling fingers I undo the knot of my trousers and knickers and slip them on. He offers his hand and pulls me upright. My heart is pounding so hard I’m sure he can hear it. God, what did we just do? It was foolhardy, irresponsible, kinky and daring. My breathing is barely under control.

  I slip into my boots and hunt for my jacket. It’s strewn on a bale to the right. I shrug it on and he twines his big fingers with mine, straightens his own heavy coat and runs a hand through his wild hair.

  We walk around the turret and into the window of light dribbling in from the yard. At the doorway we stop and look at the fat snowflakes floating silently from the night sky. I don’t want to speak and spoil the magic of our postcoital moment. This feels too perfect.

  After a full minute he turns to me and says, “I’m Blake by the way.” He offers a tilt of his lips, a smile but not quite.

  “Sherry,” I say, and then feel stupid; he knows my name.

  A stampede of wellies suddenly heads toward us. Emily and her friends skid across the yard, snowballs filling their palms and hoots of delight echoing around the stable block. “Hey, Dad, take this,” she shouts, hurling a lump of snow through the air.

  Blake ducks and it lands inside the barn, missing its target. He straightens and turns to me and I realize it’s the first time I’ve seen his expression anything other than somber. His whole face is alight; he looks happy, alive. Creases gather around the corners of his dark eyes and I notice how white and straight his teeth are as he laughs. He should do it more often, it’s infectious.

  Still smiling he reaches out and dips his fingers into my hair, retrieves a long piece of hay with a seeded end. He shows it to me briefly before tossing it over his shoulder. “You want to go and get some food?” he asks.

  I see a flash in his bad-boy eyes and know it’s an offer of wicked dessert rather than a wholesome dinner.

  I nod—I’m still hungry.

  EQUIPMENT

  Kay Jaybee

  The moment I saw his naked arse, I knew that I wanted to fuck it, and I told him so. It was the first time I’d seen Lee Cooper unsure of himself. For a split second a veil of uncertainty, possibly even fear, had crossed his generally ultr
aconfident square features. It didn’t last though, and he was soon shrugging my statement off with a lad-ish laugh. “You ain’t got the equipment, baby,” he said, as he eased his solid cock into my willing body.

  I started working part-time at the garage, where Lee is employed as a mechanic, three months ago. The first thing he said to me, as his clear brown eyes appraised my slight frame and red plaited hair was, “I’m looking forward to pulling on those pigtails, honey.” From anybody else I wouldn’t have taken a comment like that, but somehow from Lee it was okay. He exuded a sort of sexual confidence, and the instant and silent knowledge that eventually we would fuck radiated from his every pore. It would have been foolish of me to deny that unspoken understanding, and I privately looked forward to the day I’d discover if the tattoos that adorned his muscular arms extended to his chest and down his legs.

  That was three flirtatious months ago, and it had been fun letting the erotic tension build between us, get more intense as the weeks of inaction ticked by, till finally Lee’s resolve had broken. He told me, as he hammered an impatient fist on my front door during his lunch hour, that he’d been changing the oil in a beat-up old car, when he’d realized he couldn’t hold out another moment.

  After the glorious frisson of the wait, there was always the risk that the reality wouldn’t live up to the expectation. I hadn’t been disappointed however, far from it.

  I smiled to myself as Lee dragged his grubby boilersuit back on, and disappeared down my garden path at a run. His words echoed in my head, “You ain’t got the equipment, baby.” A wicked twinkle began to shine in my eyes at the prospect of what lay ahead for the unsuspecting mechanic, and speaking across the empty room, I said, “Well, actually, Mr. Lee Cooper, I have all the equipment we could possibly need….”

  The thought of his tight arse, of claiming it as my own, of taking control of Lee for a while, and perhaps robbing him of a portion of his macho attitude, grew within me, and I began to lay plans for the temporary domination of this alpha male.

  On Lee’s next visit, predictably the following lunchtime, I embarked on a mission to both enjoy myself, and to lull him into a false sense of security, neither mentioning how delicious I found his backside, nor my eventual intentions for it. As his calloused hands made their way over my naked chest, pinching my nipples with exquisitely painful squeezes, I groaned with genuine pleasure. Stroking the beautifully toned body that pushed against mine, I relished the sight of the tanned multi-tattooed chest I’d so recently discovered.

  It was on Lee’s fourth visit that I kept my hands exclusively on his backside, patting it gently, smoothing it and caressing it in a totally nonthreatening way as my new lover pumped himself swiftly in and out of me.

  On the fifth visit Lee announced he’d had a dream about tying me up. His face, when I told him that he could do just that, was a picture. I’m not sure if he was more turned on by the fact he could do anything he liked to me, while my hands were secured behind my naked back, or by the feeling of power my helplessness gave him. I suspect the latter. As Lee’s warm tongue explored my stomach, and ducked skillfully between my spread legs, I wallowed submissively in the blissful feelings that engulfed me.

  During visit number six, a rare after-work encounter, while Lee was both fucking and smacking my arse with stingingly wonderful efficiency, the last few parts of my plan fell into place, and I knew that my need to take his firm neat backside was reaching the point of obsession.

  A little over two weeks after Lee had first turned up on my doorstep, I decided the time had come to act. Laying out my sex toys in a neat row near my pillow, I hid them from view with my duvet. Removing the clutter of clothes from the battered old armchair in the corner of my bedroom, I adjusted its position so that it was at the foot of the bed. Then I took off my regular jeans and T-shirt, and put on my tight black Lycra bodice and matching knickers. The caress of the clinging material against my flesh was enough to increase my pulse rate and boot up the arousal I had been so carefully keeping in check.

  Lee’s distinctive knock on the door came at almost exactly seven o’clock, as we’d arranged. I smiled quietly to myself at his promptness and, wrapping myself in a black silk robe, descended the stairs to collect my unwitting victim.

  “Wow, babe,” he said, as his appreciative eyes ran over my robed frame, “like the silk.” He reached forward, and I allowed Lee to engulf me briefly in his arms, his stubble scratching my cheeks as his mouth came to mine. Then I broke away from his magnetic warmth, holding him at arms’ length.

  “You like what you see?” I grinned at Lee, my green eyes reflecting into his brown ones. “You want to see more?”

  “You bet.” He reached out to take hold of the robe’s ties, but I stepped back, causing him to frown questioningly. This was not how it went for him. When Lee reached out, he got what he wanted. Usually.

  “Not yet, honey. Come with me.” I walked toward the stairs, beckoning him teasingly over my right shoulder.

  Seconds later Lee was following me up the stairs like a faithful hound trailing his mistress. Excellent. I didn’t look back again, but strode purposefully into my bedroom, only stopping when I reached the foot of the bed. When I turned to face him, hands on hips, I regarded Lee sternly, hoping that my mask of authority wouldn’t slip.

  Lee’s expression was one of total confusion as he watched me. I undid my robe, letting it slide provocatively to the floor. Again he stepped forward to touch, but I dodged out of reach. He opened his mouth to protest, but I held up my hand, and spoke first.

  “We’ve had a lot of fun together, honey. We’ve played it your way, and it’s been fantastic. Now it’s my turn to call the tune.”

  “Your turn?” He spoke as if the idea was totally foreign to him, and I suppose it probably was. I can’t imagine that any woman would have told Lee what to do before.

  I remained calm, stifling my need to breathe deeply and dispel some of the tension that had built up in my stomach. “That’s right, my turn. So, take off all your clothes.”

  “I…”

  “All your clothes, Lee. Now. I won’t ask you again,” His hands rose toward his top, and then he hesitated, so I continued, “Unless you’d rather leave, of course.”

  Lee stared at me for a few more seconds, as if trying to decide if I was serious or not, and then, with a “What the hell” shrug, he pulled off his T-shirt, dirty jeans, navy boxers and socks. The moment he was naked, I pointed to my armchair. “Sit down.”

  Again he hesitated, but as curiosity got the better of him he sat, perched on the very edge of the seat. I stood just out of reach of his hands, which still hadn’t quite got the message that they weren’t allowed to touch. “This is my game, okay?”

  Lee nodded, ruffling his fingers across his short spiked, brown hair.

  “Good,” I walked to the head of the bed, and reaching a hand beneath my duvet, produced a blue silk tie. Lee’s eyes widened in both surprise and uncertainty, as I said, “Your hands, please.”

  He presented his arms to me, his wrists together, as if he were a criminal awaiting the captivity of handcuffs. I began to wonder if he’d had that experience for real. I knew there was a lot of past crammed into his thirty-one years. Holding his gaze for a moment, I ordered him to stand so I could secure the tie firmly around his wrists.

  Ripples of power begin to course through me as I saw his impressive body tower over me, his ink-stained chest partially hidden by his tethered arms. Lee’s cock, which had been rigid since he’d undressed, was pointing at me accusingly, and I swallowed back the urge to kneel before him and lap at its salty sweet flavor. Instead, I pointed back to the armchair. Understanding my intention, he sat.

  Flicking my single neatly plaited pigtail behind my neck, and locking my gaze to his, I began to run my hands over my stomach, neck and arms. Lee licked his lips. His obvious enjoyment of what I was doing spurred me on to slip a first tentative hand toward my crotch. As I was lingering over the narrow waistband of
my black panties, I heard Lee take a sharp breath, and I smiled as he unconsciously leaned forward in the chair, his arms tugging a little at the bonds before him. I began to ease the Lycra knickers down, inch by inch, my heart beating faster and somehow louder, in the presence of my solo audience.

  Once my panties were removed, I straightened up and moved my hands to my upper body, the left hand teasing the skin at the top of my cleavage, the right toying with the zip that secured my snug-fitting camisole.

  Lee stared raptly at the fingers that caressed the zip. Again I moved slowly, making a great show of playing with the clasp, before finally beginning to slide it down the length of the bodice in time to a long drawn-out sigh from my confined companion.

  Standing naked, the warm air of the room soft against the slightly sticky sheen of my breasts, I too let out the briefest of sighs, a fact that wasn’t missed by Lee, who looked at me sharply for a second, as if only just comprehending how much my control of him was turning me on. I knew then that I couldn’t wait any longer.

  “Come here.” I barked the words, returning Lee’s expression to one of confusion. “Bend over the bed. Knees on the floor.”

  Without the use of his arms he obeyed clumsily, dropping to the floor and leaning across the bed, crushing the thick duvet beneath his stomach. His arse stuck out perfectly, giving me excellent access as I soothed its uneven texture with both palms. Moving closer, so that the fronts of my legs pushed against the backs of his, I increased the pressure of my hands until, unable to resist any longer, I smacked his right cheek, hard.

  “Fuck!” Lee’s alarmed shout was muffled by the bedclothes. He tried to stand, but I’d preempted the move, and held the flat of his back still with all the strength my free hand could muster as I hit him again.

  He continued to swear as the strikes built up, but made no further attempt to escape his punishment. Reassured that Lee wasn’t going to try and pull away, I added my left hand to the fray, and built up a steady rhythm of slaps across his arsecheeks, creating an attractive pattern of growing pinkish-red blotches against the contrasting pale skin. Lee’s stream of obscenities subsided into throaty whimpers. It was the sign I’d been waiting for, and stopping my assault, I leaned forward to kiss the flesh I had so enjoyed damaging, changing his whimpers into a long moan of desire.