by Alison Tyler
He grabbed her hair, pulling her head away. It didn’t hurt, but she was surprised—most men loved to get a blow job.
“I want something else.”
“Oh?”
He stood. Since he hadn’t let go of her hair, she had to stand with him. Leaning forward, he took her mouth in a ravenous kiss. Mr. Nameless let go of her hair, then slid his hand down her back to her hips. He thrust his fingers under the elastic band of her swimsuit bottoms and pushed them over her hips.
Julia’s hands were trapped between them, so she just went with his actions. She could feel her body yielding to him. Her hips ground into his. His cock touched her stomach. He seemed as desperate to be inside her as she was to have him there.
Her breath caught in her throat as he let her go and spun her around. He guided her to the chaise.
“Bend over and grip the back.”
She did.
“Spread your legs.”
Julia shook as she complied.
Mr. Nameless ripped down the bikini bottoms.
She swallowed a yelp. Freed from the confines of her suit, her juices ran down her legs. Her clit throbbed. Tension ran through her body. She wanted this so badly she ached.
A finger plunged inside her starving slit as if he were testing her readiness.
He flicked her clit and tendrils of pleasure rushed through her. Turning her head, Julia glanced in the mirror. She reached between her legs and spread her lips apart. Honey covered her fingers.
Mr. Nameless withdrew his finger, and Julia moaned in frustration. “No.”
“Be patient, pretty one.” He took off his jacket and his shirt.
Rock-hard muscles covered his chest and stomach.
Julia closed her eyes, anticipating his invasion. He leaned forward, touching her clit with the tip of his cock, flicking the hard bud. She felt the delicious sensation of orgasm begin to build. She had to stop herself from pushing back and forcing his cock into her pussy. No, this was his game. Julia arched her back and put her knee into the chaise’s soft cushion. She wiggled her ass. He slid a finger down the crease. Her anus puckered.
“You have a sweet ass. I love a girl with a round butt.”
Her muscles clinched at the thought of him plundering her secret hole. He pulled her hips back as he thrust forward all the way into her. She gasped.
He didn’t give her time to adjust and just pounded his cock into her, hard. Her pussy clutched his cock, squeezing him. Julia pushed back, helping him to get deeper into her. His balls slapped against her clit. He grunted, digging his hands into her flesh, the pain only adding to the sensation.
She rocked her clit against him, massaging the hard bud along his cock. Her body exploded. Throwing her head back as she came, electric spasms ripped through her body. He slid almost all the way out, then slammed his cock back down into her again and again. He groaned right before he came, then filled her soaking hole. She could feel his cock still throbbing. She stiffened her muscles around him to milk him. He stayed buried inside her as they collapsed on the chaise.
Julia opened her eyes. She was alone. The air hung heavy with the smell of sex. Her legs still wide open, she could see her glistening pink pussy lips open and drenched with cum. Just the thought of what happened revved her into overdrive again. She touched her still-throbbing clit with the tip of her finger. What a sight she made. She traced little circles, stirring herself again. One fuck just didn’t seem to be enough for her today. Hell, she was making up for lost time.
“You all done in there, Honey?”
Julia’s eyes flew open. “Ah, sure, Renee, just give me a minute.” She slung her leg off the chaise and stood. Their mingled sex juices spilled out of her drenched pussy and ran down her thighs. Julia searched for the red bikini, deciding to take it after all. Disappointed that it was missing, she realized she’d have to settle for something else. Maybe Nameless took it as a souvenir. In an odd way, that was rather flattering. Hope he enjoyed it as much as she did. Too bad they’d never cross paths again. If she was good, maybe she’d lose another five pounds before the trip next week.
Wait a sec. What did she care about the last few pounds? Mr. Nameless couldn’t get enough of her body the way it was. Other men could be had, too.
Quickly dressing, she left the room. She couldn’t look Renee in the eye as she paid for her purchase, a modest black one-piece.
“Enjoy yourself?”
Julia raised her head. “Yes, I did.” God, she felt so relaxed. Thank you, Mr. Nameless.
After leaving the store, she figured she had just enough time to drop by the gym for a quick wash before heading back to her office in time to grab a bite to eat and prepare herself for her meeting. She phoned Mavis and gave her her plans.
Mavis greeted her at the elevator. “He’s early.”
All the excitement of the afternoon suddenly abandoned her. Back to the real world. “What’s he like?”
“A hottie.” She fanned herself with a thick file. “I’m swooning.”
“Better than the water guy?”
“Oh yeah.”
Julia crossed her fingers. “Wish me luck and hope I dazzle him or we’re both out on the street.”
“Kick ass, boss.” Mavis handed her the file at her office door.
Julia squared her shoulders and walked into her office. The tall blond man turned from the window to face her.
Mr. Nameless. In her office.
“Ms. Landon,” he said, smiling. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”
She smiled back, still in shock. “Hi,” she managed to say.
He held up a bag from Renee’s boutique. “I bought you a welcoming present.” He reached in and pulled out the red bikini.
Double-Click to Enter
TOM PICCIRILLI
The new neighbors were having another rip-ass argument. It usually happened two or three times a week, early in the morning as he got ready for work. He’d scream and call her a whore, a bitch, his face mottled as he tried to knot his tie with trembling hands. It was the kind of thing you had to expect in East Hollywood from the drug dealers and the alcoholic shack jobs, but this couple was yuppie primed and heading for highclass heaven. They were struggling but trying hard, had some nice furniture and an old but well-kept Chevy. In a year he’d be in the next highest tax bracket and they wouldn’t even bother to pack any of their shit when they moved, just leave the whole life behind.
I couldn’t figure out what the hell he was always so upset about since all she did, so far as I could see, was work in the yard planting flowers in the burning summer sunlight and sit at her computer drinking bottled water most of the day.
Like my place, theirs had a bay window in front, small overpainted French doors at back, and a large glass sliding door. And like me, they still hadn’t gotten curtains up and probably never would.
They had a Saint Bernard named Bugsy that shit on my property with the punctuality of a Swiss clock, but I liked the dog and he usually sat with me on the patio while I worked on my latest script, Zypho: Critter from Beyond the Edge of Space. Even Bugsy didn’t like the title and often yawned when I read sections aloud to him.
My producer, Monty Stobbs, stopped over one afternoon while my neighbor was out trimming the lawn, her tan easing into that beautiful red burned henna phase. She’d slicked up with baby oil and it sluiced and shone across her body until she nearly glowed in the golden brilliance of noon. Her freckled, rose-brown skin played havoc with my dreams. She had her hair up in a pony tail, went barefoot, and wore a halter top and white shorts so that the beads of sweat that slid down her shoulders and the backs of her thighs stood out as clear and well-defined as all my perverse thoughts.
Every so often she’d bend over and hit a pose that made me suck wind through my teeth. She had a smear of mud across her forehead from where she’d drawn the back of her dirty hand wiping away the sweat. The bright smile, upturned nose, and bobbing blonde hair made her so cute you wanted to tear your own teeth
out. She barely topped five feet and had just enough meat on her to jiggle when she moved. You dreamed of taking her to a G-rated movie and then fucking her in the balcony.
“Who’s the piece of ass next door?” Monty asked.
“The dog’s name tag says his owners are Jack and Jane Barker.”
“You haven’t said hello yet?”
“I don’t go outside much.”
“Christ, Jack and Jane. Do they wear the same clothes?”
“It’s not as cozy as it sounds. They have screaming matches a couple of times a week before he heads off to work.”
“Unhappily married. She’s home all day, you’re home all day. I see possibilities here.” He thought about it for a minute. “Think she might want to star in Zypho? That brain-sucking scene in the tub? Those tits would be a huge draw. She’d double our video units.”
“Maybe I’ll approach her with it.”
For the next week or so I kept an eye on her, listening to the shouting and staring at her through the study window, where she worked on the computer all afternoon long when she wasn’t gardening. Their yard was overgrown with pomegranate and fruit trees, some heavy brush at the back where the weeds and wildflowers towered. My den was just high enough that I could look down through her living room window and out beyond into their backyard.
I finally figured out what the arguments were about when the FedEx guy brought her a package and I watched her set up a webcam. I was a little surprised at how easy it was to connect and how quickly she stripped off her clothes in her little office space. Jane Barker pranced around, wagging her ass for the camera, somewhat reticent in the beginning but soon growing more and more comfortable and aroused. So was I. Her tits were larger than I expected, 36C at least, on that tiny frame, and she plucked at her nipples as she danced. I sat there stroking my cock while she fondled her pussy and masturbated for every horny bastard on the Web. Bugsy was out on the lawn crooning softly.
I set off to find her on the Net. It took me four eighteen-hour days on the Web to sift through thousands of amateur porn sites and finally come across hers, and even that was only by sheer luck. By then my eyes were spinning backwards in their sockets and my cock was hamburger raw, and I’d seen more vile and ridiculous shit than I could’ve imagined existed.
But I had found Jane.
Monty came in all pissed off, seething.
“Trouble with the studio?” I asked.
“No, I just stepped in a pile of dog crap on your lawn the size of a cinder block.”
“Courtesy of Bugsy, Jack and Jane’s dog.”
“Motherfuckers. Christ, you don’t even have a fan in here and it’s topping ninety-five outside. How the goddamn do you stand it?”
“I think cool.”
“You don’t think shit, you whackjob. Have you finished the script yet?”
I hadn’t even thought of Zypho the alien brainsucker in days, but I told him, “Yes.”
“You put in more sorority girls like I asked?”
When the hell did he ask that? “Plenty,” I said.
“Good.” He caught me peering over his shoulder through the window. “You go see Miss Jane yet?”
“She has an amateur website, does the live webcam thing, uploads photos of herself naked.”
“Yeah?” Monty perked up some. “That’s good to know. See if she wants to be in the movie. We need a girl for the tub scene where Zypho gnaws on the hottie’s cerebellum.”
“You mentioned it.”
I called up her website and showed him. In bold letters across the top of the screen read VOYEURWEB and CYBEREROTICA. Then the usual legal trappings about needing to be over eighteen. At the bottom of the page were the words DOUBLE-CLICK TO ENTER.
Most of the site was empty at this point with plenty of Coming Soon icons. There were a few nude photos of Jane in various poses, giving that ball-clenching smile.
“Shit,” Monty said. “Coming soon. Five thousand images of hard-core sex. Thumbnail pics. Live video feed. Streaming video. ‘Original and not bought from an adult content distributor.’ Hey, I like that.” He angled his head and put his nose to the window. “Whoa. She’s been busy over there. Do you ever watch her?”
“Her drapes are always open. I haven’t seen anything too wild yet.”
“Maybe she films herself in a motel with other guys?”
“She’s always home, working on that tan.”
But the day Jane invited the FedEx driver inside I knew we were getting to something else. She’d just come home from the beach, it looked like. He knocked and handed her a small package, but instead of just signing his clipboard she enticed him in. There wasn’t much of a prelude.
I sat up some in my chair as the hot breeze skimmed over me. Jane stripped off her light cotton dress, leaving only a bikini bottom in place, a dusting of sand still covering her ass. Her tits bounced nicely as she strode out the back door and across the lawn. Those pink nipples with large areolas made my breath catch, and I gripped the desk edge as if I were on my twelfth electroshock treatment of the day. She stood in the grass and hosed herself off. My jaws clenched so hard that I felt my back fillings crunch.
Clear tan lines striped that nutmeg body. Jane wandered over to one of the lounge chairs and sat while the FedEx guy came out the back door, looked around puzzled, and stood trembling a little. I could imagine what he was thinking: worrying about a husband, AIDS, or how the lady might flip and start screaming rape at any second. You saw this sort of thing on HBO but it just didn’t happen to pudgy delivery-service guys.
She pulled him down onto the cushion with her, undid his pants in three seconds flat, and drew off his briefs. His cock lay semi-inflated across his wide belly. The guy was scared and I didn’t blame him much.
“You want me to make it hard and then sit on it?” she asked.
He wagged his head like his neck muscles had been cut.
His pale body had already begun to redden in the fiery summer glare. Jane kept laughing and brushing up against him at every opportunity, sweat arcing down her cleavage. She cupped his balls and ran the backs of her fingernails all around his crotch and thighs. He sprang to attention and so did I. She didn’t touch his hard-on but cruelly kept her hands playfully close to it, tips of her fingers swirling back and forth in figure eights through his pubic hair. She shifted and knelt at the bottom of the chair and finally ran her hand up and down his shaft, jacking him so slowly the guy’s eyes rolled up in his head and he let out a groan like he’d been shot.
She looked up over his shoulder back toward her office window, and then I knew she was filming them together.
So that was the game. Fun. She played with his erection for a while, the guy’s bottom lip hanging down his chin as she stroked him. I really hoped I didn’t look that stupid during sex but figured I did.
The FedEx driver was hard now, and he seemed impressed by his own dick. You knew you were in for a good lay when that happened. Jane met his eyes and urged him to force her head down to him. He didn’t get it at first but then realized what she was after, and yanked her down by the ponytail as she allowed her mouth to get pulled onto his cock.
Shafts of sunlight slashed across my face and I noticed I was drenched in my sweat. The air had heated up so badly that I was gasping for breath, the temperature in my den easily breaking a hundred. The sauna feel to the world made me light-headed, and I felt drunk on my own excitement.
Her lips parted and she took him in, careful that the camera would capture the image. He took her by the sides of her face and eased her down further until she engulfed him completely, licking, probing. I decided that no matter how well she’d positioned the camera it wasn’t going to be able to get the whole scene. No close-ups, no new angles, no movement.
Jane sucked eagerly but stopped the action from time to time to lick the head of his cock, sit up, and smile toward the window. She pressed her tits together around his shaft, hitting more gorgeous poses. The guy hardly opened his eyes and didn
’t pick up on anything odd happening. When she dropped her mouth onto him again he spurted across the bridge of her nose and his tongue lolled like a hydrocephalic. She looked so surprised I thought she might punch him in the face.
He reacted the way any of us would. He wiped himself off quickly, zipped up, and got the hell out of there, leaving Jane alone on the lounge with his cum still dripping off her chin, a star of her own making. So far as I saw, she’d never even signed his clipboard.
A few days passed while she apparently rethought the scope and intention of her website. The fruit from her trees ripened and fell so large and juicy that I had trouble with the symbolism—sometimes you need a little subtlety. I kept an eye on her and checked her page several times a day, but there were no new updates. A different FedEx driver dropped off more hardware, and I assumed she was setting up extra cameras. With some editing software she could create her own little porno flicks for no cost.
Monty stopped over and screamed, “Fuck, it’s hot in here! Get an air conditioner already.”
“I can barely afford the rent.”
“Then at least have a good supply of cold beer around.” He checked my fridge and snorted. “How the hell do you stay alive? What, do you lick the moldy plastic shelves in there?”
“I feed on my passion.”
I told him the whole story about Jane and the FedEx pudge. He said, “You know, it wouldn’t take much rewriting to turn Zypho: Critter from Beyond the Edge of Space into a solid XXX feature.”
“Zypho: Studboy from Another Galaxy?”
“Well, why the fuck not? Half the scream queens I have lined up for it have been doing soft core for years, and a couple have already dabbled in the hard stuff.”
“What will your backers think?”
“They’ll love us. Porn sells. Maybe instead of Zypho’s tentacles going up the chick’s nose to suck out her brain, he sends them up her pussy, needs to drain out the vaginal juices to…ah…fuel his ship and get back to his own galaxy again. Huh?” He gave a hopeful smile, already imagining how he’d push the flick, the packaging, the new bathtub scene with the dildo-shaped tentacles jabbing into every orifice. “You think that might work?”