by Eden Bradley
She stilled to savor the sensation of double penetration. Her muscles clenched. What would it feel like when a hard, pulsing cock replaced that strong finger?
“Don’t stop, darlin’. I want to feel you come.” He thrust his finger in deeper. “Now fuck me.”
Amanda rode his throbbing length as Sean fingered her ass. Her body grew damp with sweat and her breath labored, but she prolonged finding completion, wanting to relish the feeling of being filled in both places.
“You’re killing me, woman,” he growled as he thrust a second finger into her ass. The resulting spasm started a cascade of spasms she couldn’t resist.
“Yes! Yes!” she screamed as her movements grew frenzied, her clit rubbing against his pelvis with each stroke.
“That’s it!” Sean’s fingers thrust deep, and stilled. “Come for me, baby!” His hips pounded upward. Once. Twice. And then again. And again.
Each thrust wrung another tremor from her body.
His cock grew even thicker until he groaned his release, each pulsing throb drawing an equal response from her pussy.
He kissed her brow when her forehead landed against his lips.
“Hope I’m not interrupting anything.” Bret’s deep voice penetrated an aftermath filled with heavy breathing.
Amanda stiffened. She had completely forgotten Bret.
Sean shifted her head so it rested on his shoulder, her face buried in his neck. “Naw, man. The party’s just getting started.”
Amanda stirred in an attempt to sit up, but Sean held her against him. “Trust me,” he whispered as the mattress dipped under Bret’s weight.
Rodeo slid from her body and rolled them until they lay on their sides, facing each other, with Bret settling behind Amanda.
“Close your eyes and just feel,” Sean said.
Amanda let her eyelids fall and gave herself up to sensation. Kisses skimmed across her body. At first, she tried to follow them, but hands stilled her movements. Then she just concentrated on repressing the shivers created by the contrast of warm breath followed by cool air as lips explored new spots—her neck, the inside of her elbows, her navel, behind her knees. The two men left no spot untouched.
Fingers plucked at her taut nipples, pinching and rolling them until they ached. Her hips bumped against Sean’s. She needed a cock inside her.
Someone answered her silent demand by dipping a finger into her pussy, which wept as if she hadn’t already had multiple orgasms. More fingers joined the foray and then coated her bare folds with her juices, leaving no crevice dry.
She whimpered and spread her legs wider.
A hand supported her thigh while tongues lapped her clean, exploring her until more cream coated her folds. A finger slipped inside her pussy. Then a second one pushed past the tight ring of her ass. Both were quickly joined by another.
“Yes,” she hissed.
Need overwhelmed her, had her trembling. She wanted to be filled by cocks, but she also didn’t want the shimmering sensations of rough tongues nibbling on her clit and fingers piercing her openings to stop.
The bed shifted and the sound of condom packets ripping open followed. Eyes screwed shut, she shivered in anticipation. She didn’t want to see; she only wanted to feel—two mouths, two cocks, four hands—she didn’t care who was where as long as they didn’t stop touching her.
The smooth head of a penis encased in a condom butted against her mouth. She parted her lips and swallowed the throbbing length. Ignoring the rubbery taste, she gave herself up to the sensation of completeness. She thrust against the fingers wedged in her ass and pussy, moaning around the thick cock—undoubtedly Sean’s unless he and Bret were of a size—in her mouth.
A tongue flicked her clit. Fire shot through her veins.
She rubbed against the tongue poised for her satisfaction. Faster and faster she ground against it. Fingers and cock attempted to stay in sync with her frantic movements.
She screamed as the strongest orgasm of her life shook her entire body. Her fingers clawed at the taut ass pressing a suddenly too-big cock into her face.
Her hips shifted, trying to rid her pussy and ass of fingers spreading her too wide, her clit of a tongue too persistent. But they refused to relent until she lay limp and drained.
Kisses feathered their way back up her body. Tender hands cupped her face, but she couldn’t move. Couldn’t open her eyes.
A hand lifted her leg, settled it onto a hairy thigh. The air rushed to cool the dew drenching the lips of her pussy. A cock nudged the opening of her pussy. But still she floated.
The slickness of her channel eased the entry of a penis—neither quite as fat nor as long as Sean’s, so it had to be Bret’s.
A dozen times or so he thrust before he withdrew.
Then a different cock took its place—one that went a little deeper, stretched a little more.
Ah, Rodeo.
Somehow, he seemed to fill her, to stroke all those secret places without even trying.
She finally stirred when the head of Bret’s cock, coated with her cream, nudged her anus.
She stiffened, retreating slightly, even though double penetration was what she craved.
“Shh. Relax,” Sean whispered, tightening his hold as Bret’s cock kissed the opening again.
She stilled, concentrating on her breathing while Bret thrust. Once, twice, he bumped the puckered rosette and then the head of his cock breached her. She gasped when he continued to slide forward until his pelvis nestled her ass. An impossibly full feeling washed over her. It was so different than when she used her toys—maybe because both men throbbed in ways the plastic couldn’t.
Her thighs trembled.
She focused on Sean’s warm grasp of her leg, holding her tight to him.
“Having him in your ass makes your pussy tighter,” Sean rasped.
Amanda melted.
Bret withdrew and thrust back in.
“That’s it, Mandy. Just let him fuck us both,” Sean groaned.
Bret rode them hard, withdrawing and thrusting with hardly a breath in between. Amanda wasn’t certain how long he pounded into her. She was lost in the complete bliss of being filled. Cream trickled continuously from her to ease Sean’s thrusts.
The need for an orgasm snuck up on her slowly. A gentle tug at first, so distant as to almost not be felt. And then, a restless urge that had her rubbing her breasts against Sean’s chest.
“God, Mandy. I’m going to come soon,” Sean said between gritted teeth.
Amanda caught Bret’s pace and thrust against Sean. She needed to feel him come.
“Fuck, yea. I’m going to come,” Bret said as she quickened her movements.
She was so close. Her thighs burned. Blood pooled in the lips of her pussy. Her clit throbbed. The need for an orgasm was so intense.
“Yes!” she screamed.
Sean pinched her nipple and her clit as his cock thickened, stretching her more, filling her more.
Bret grabbed both of her shoulders and slammed into her ass, the base of his cock pulsing against the tight ring of her entrance. “Squeeze me dry, baby!”
It was too much. “Fuck me!” Amanda screamed.
She bit Sean’s shoulder as wave after wave of searing heat washed from her belly, down her legs and up her chest.
She thrust back and forth against both guys. She needed to prolong the intense pleasure, to drain them until they fell limp from her body, until she’d rung the last quiver from all of their bodies.
Even after their cocks stopped trembling, she rubbed her clit against Sean, her juices oozing from her pussy to slicken the movement.
“Fuck me. Fuck me. Fuck me,” she murmured with each glide, the tremors finally growing weaker and weaker.
~ * ~
Amanda stirred and then groaned as her achy body awakened. What the hell happened last night?
Warmth flushed her naked skin as memories of the evening before rushed back.
After recovering enough to m
ove, the three of them had made it to the shower for round two. Then, they returned to the bed for another wild ride. After Bret left some time near dawn, Sean kissed his way down her body to worship her with his tongue.
On the heels of another orgasm, she’d promptly fallen asleep.
Her hand snaked out behind her, searching for Sean’s warm body, only to find nothing. She rolled over, ignoring her protesting muscles.
No Sean.
She pushed onto her elbows, the soft cotton of the sheet abrading sensitive nipples. She threw a quick glance around the room. Still no Sean.
She collapsed. He’d left her again.
What an ass!
She rubbed the hollow spot in the center of her chest. How had she forgotten how addictive just a little time with him was?
She was stupid for letting herself get put in the same position twice. A lump formed in her throat.
“Rise and shine, sleepyhead!” Sean’s voice preceded his entry into the room. He bore a tray laden with eggs, pancakes and juice.
He frowned when his gaze settled on her. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” Amanda sniffed.
“That’s a load of crap.” He placed the tray on the nightstand before sitting on the bed, his gaze filled with concern. “Are you having regrets about last night?” He brushed a strand of hair from her face.
She shook her head.
He frowned. “Well, it might not have anything to do with last night, but it’s certainly not nothing.”
She sighed. “I’m just being stupid.”
He grinned. “I wouldn’t call you stupid. You’re probably the smartest person I know. From all accounts, the bakery makes more than it did when the Ziegler’s ran it.”
Amanda frowned. “How do you know about the Ziegler’s? And how do you know how well the bakery is doing?”
Sean ducked his head. “I might have asked after you every now and then. We do have mutual friends.”
Yes, she knew they had mutual friends. It was those same friends who’d kept her apprised of his activities. They must have been laughing each time Sean or Amanda asked about the other.
Amanda’s heart skipped a beat. Sean had kept track of her. Maybe he hadn’t been feeding her a load of bull yesterday when he explained why he hadn’t been in touch.
He clasped her hand, his warm touch chasing any lingering doubt away. “So what’s bothering you?”
She took a deep breath. “I thought you’d left. Again.”
“I’m not making that mistake again.” He shook his head. “If anyone leaves, it will have to be you.”
She laughed. “Well, I guess neither of us is going anywhere because I’m hung up on you, Rodeo.”
He gathered her in his arms. “Then hold on tight because you’re in for the ride of your life, cowgirl.”
~ * ~
CLOCKWORK CAPTIVE
by Anh Leod
ONE
TWO
THREE
FOUR
~ * ~
ONE
He liked her exposed throat, was enticed by the way the tender column arched.
Her eyes, half-closed under thick brows, challenged him. The shiny brass medallion at her throat heightened the lush texture of her skin, the glossy golden tone.
Her breasts drew his interest, perfect globes forming into pert rosy nipples at the tips. He imagined sucking them, laving them, biting them. How would she taste?
Mrs. Teagarden’s Gentlemen’s Club featured many girls on the walls, captured by a photographer. No smiles were in evidence since the exposures took so long but this particular girl encouraged him with the promise of ecstasy to come. His cock, in agreement with his brain, hardened to half-mast beneath his trousers.
“You like ‘er, Mr. ‘owell?” The proprietress slithered up next to him, her scarlet hoop skirt brushing against his legs. Her accent indicated Cockney origins, though she worked in this better part of London now.
Instinctively, he stepped back, repulsed by the painted former whore. Compared to the fresh young beauty depicted on the wall, Mrs. Teagarden was a crone.
“I’d like to meet her,” Brace said. He’d meant to spend the night drinking and gambling in the lower rooms, but the portrait had caught his eye. His friends were late and he’d decided to wait for them in the hall instead of entering the raucous game room, full of strangers and cigar smoke. Something about this girl dared him to change his plans.
“Six shillings for the ‘our, sir,” she said, holding out her hand avariciously.
Her open greed did not say much for the class of this establishment. Nonetheless, he found himself fishing in his pocket for the exorbitant fee, then followed her up crimson-carpeted stairs to the second level. All the while, he berated himself for foolishness. He’d never paid for a woman’s favors before. What was it about the portrait that made him lose all sense?
Mrs. Teagarden knocked firmly on one of the thin doors on the left side. “Liza! Gentleman caller.”
Brace heard soft footfalls, and then the door opened. Liza, if that was indeed her name and not a whore’s moniker, appeared, her dark face floating above a thin white gown. She enchanted him instantly.
Her black hair twisted into a braid that looped over one shoulder, curled around the curious medallion at her throat. The portrait downstairs had not flattered this young woman, no, it hadn’t done her justice. Her lips, for one thing, were impossibly puffy and glossy, reflecting the gas light hissing from the corridor wall.
Something about her slight welcoming smile set him at ease, assuring him that his shillings were well spent. He felt his shoulders relax.
“He paid for an ‘our, dearie,” Mrs. Teagarden said with satisfaction, as she pulled a slender, intricate silver key from her cleavage.
When she put it to Liza’s ornament, he realized the medallion was a clock. The proprietress poked at it for a moment with her key, then tucked it back into her dress.
From the girl’s raised eyebrows, Brace knew their trade didn’t normally extend to an hour. But, he could easily last that long, even if he didn’t have additional delights in mind. His cock pressed eagerly against his smallclothes, reminding him of how long it had been denied female comforts. He’d spent the summer working long hours and walking with friends the rest of the time, attempting to get out of London as much as possible. No time had been spared for women. But now autumn weather turned his associates to indoor delights. They could gamble without him for one night.
The proprietress pushed him into the small chamber with a none-too-gentle hand at his back. The room smelled fresh at least, free of those body odors that steamed from the very walls in some brothels after so many years in service to human pleasures. He stumbled and reached out to gain his balance, but Liza stood right in front of him. His hands landed on the toothsome breasts he’d admired in her portrait.
The feel of her warm, barely-covered flesh under his hands pleased him. When her eyes widened, only a few inches from his own gaze, he realized she was older than he’d expected, close to his own age of twenty-two, and her amber-brown eyes looked familiar somehow.
That cat’s gaze narrowed on his as he squeezed her breasts, testing the firm warmth, before releasing her. His cock jerked as her flesh slid from his fingers.
“My apologies,” he said quickly.
“No need for that. You’ve paid for the privilege.” Her expression softened.
He was hard as an oak tree already, but with the hour ticking away at her throat, he had time to taste the alluring female scent drifting up from her spicy cunny. Why spend himself quickly when he had time to anticipate? And he’d enjoy it more if he could entice his partner to take her pleasure as well.
With a challenging stare of his own, he slid to his knees in front of Liza as the door closed behind him. He grasped the hem of Liza’s plain, floor length gown and rucked it up to her knees.
“You needn’t be a supplicant. You’ve paid for your time,” she said, lifting her chin
toward the narrow cot on the right side of the room. Her voice held no hint of common origins, yet he wasn’t quite able to place the accent. She’d moved about, most likely.
He exposed her knees. “Does this offend you? I’m not used to paying for a woman’s time.”
“Of course it doesn’t offend me. And a woman is a woman whether she’s paid for or not, Mr. Howell.” Her eyes widened slightly as she said his name.
He liked the sound of it on her lips and for some curious reason she smiled as if she liked it too. “Then I’ll do what I please. As you said, I’ve paid for the hour.”
She touched the medallion at her throat.
As he lifted her shift to mid-thigh, he asked, “Am I your first customer this evening?”
“It’s early yet,” she said noncommittally.
“Do you service the male staff before the guests arrive?” He knew how she earned her living, but he’d at least like to know he was her first of the evening. Strange that he cared. The shift was at the top of her thighs now and he could see a hint of black curly hair between her legs.
She shifted, as if made uncomfortable by his question. He noted faint marks striping the insides of her thighs.
“You’ve been whipped, and often. Is Mrs. Teagarden a harsh mistress?”
“My patrons enjoy such things,” she said, her mouth pulling to one side.
“Really? I’ve found it is the men who enjoy being beaten. All those brutal schoolmasters from our youths, I imagine.”
Her eyes sharpened for a moment as if waiting for him to continue, but he couldn’t make polite conversation when he was staring at the treasure between her legs.
“A certain class of men enjoys aggression,” she said. “They like striping my inner thighs, then listening to me cry out as their skin slides against mine while we fuck.”
He swallowed hard at her crude language. Her inner fire attracted him. He put his hand to his trouser-front and adjusted himself. “Do you like the pain?”