by Alison Tyler
“Sure,” I told him, and he capered out the door to make some calls and go toss the idea out to his aging porn stars and burnt-out scream queens. East Hollywood was certainly a trippy place, but nobody ever said die.
Eventually Jane’s home page announced that she’d be doing “personal videos” for fifty bucks a pop. Her site was now membership driven, just $29.95 for six months of access. I signed up using Monty’s business account. Some of the new thumbnail pics were a lot funkier than the previous ones. There were photos of Jane masturbating with household objects, stripping off slutty outfits, even some shots of her sucking her husband’s dick. No wonder they weren’t fighting as much lately.
She never did put up the streaming video of her and the FedEx dude on the lounge, so I must’ve been right about how poorly it’d been captured on film. But she did have some stills posted of her playing with the pudge’s cock, her naked tits in his face, even a couple of her looking stunned with cum on her lips.
I sat on my patio eating a hasty lunch and fed Bugsy part of my bologna sandwich, staring over at the house and waiting for her to go before the webcam again.
Instead, she poked her head out the back door and yelled, “Bugs!” It was like a wife calling her husband to the phone. The dog ignored her as I gave him a pickle and a few more potato chips. She scanned the yard and her gaze settled on the Saint Bernard sitting beside me. For the first time ever she acknowledged my presence and actually looked directly at me. My cock bucked twice.
I met her at the fence and she asked, “Is he being a nuisance?” There was a little-girl lilt to her voice that went along with her perky attitude, the bounce in her step and in the jig of her ponytail. I edged closer to the fence to see her better and to hide my hard-on. I clunked into a picket.
“No, not at all. We’ve become buddies the past couple of weeks.”
“I’m sorry I haven’t introduced myself, but we’ve been busy unpacking. I’m Jane Barker. My husband is Jack.”
For some reason I didn’t bother to tell her my name. I simply said, “I know, I read it on Bugsy’s tags. How are you liking the new place?”
We made small talk for another ten minutes and I had to fight to keep from going into a daze and dreaming about fucking her wildly in the back yard, all the slutty outfits, Zypho’s jelly dildos shoved in her ass. When she took my hand to say goodbye I nearly fainted in the sun.
“Your face is red,” she said. “Be careful out here in the heat. You’re sweating like mad. Put some extra salt in your diet to help retain water.”
“Thanks for the advice,” I told her, and watched her drift back into the house.
Jane started doing live chats. That Saturday at midnight I signed in as “Critter.” The room was limited to fifty members and was already packed. The money must’ve been flooding into the Barker residence. Yet another reason why her husband had shut the fuck up in the mornings.
A lot of the guys in there asked her all kinds of questions that ranged from the boring to the ludicrous. Nothing offended her and she answered everyone in turn, politely and attentively. It annoyed some of the other jerk-offs, who only wanted her to talk dirty for an easy fix, but Jane proved to be thoughtful, honest, and affable. I wondered how long she would continue before hanging it up, but after three hours she was still going strong. By five A.M., though, it was only her and me.
I typed out: I have a personal video request.
Certainly, she responded, I’ve received very few of them so far and most of those were kinky in the extreme.
Perhaps you’ll think mine is too.
Undoubtedly.
It was nice to know that she used words like “undoubtedly.” You mentioned you have a secluded backyard. Do you have neighbors?
She hesitated for a few moments. Yes.
Are you attracted to any of them?
Yes.
Okay, so that meant she dug either me or Mr. Mendelbaum on the other side of her house, and he topped seventy. Maybe she had a Daddy complex, too. Regardless, I figured I had a good chance, thought What the hell, and went for it: When it’s next convenient, go out back and film yourself fucking your next-door neighbor.
How do you know it’ll be him? she asked. I could lie about who my partner is. It could be anybody. My husband, for instance.
I trust you.
Why?
I have faith in a woman who spends nearly six hours talking to a bunch of horny screw-offs. It shows class.
It’ll cost. Pay in advance.
Sure.
She ended the night by typing: I’ll think about giving you what you want.
I hung out on the patio a lot that weekend but realized she probably wouldn’t make any kind of a move until Monday, when Jack would be at work again. Bugsy and I spent some quality time together and I actually managed to write two more versions of Zypho, depending on which way Monty and the producers might want to go with the movie. We now had a low-budget SF flick, a soft-core comedy, and a triple-X rubberfetish flick.
Monday morning, I moved out the door at a good clip, sat out on the patio with some notes and papers, pretending to pencil in corrections. All the while I was praying that Jane wasn’t actually going to go over and hump Mr. Mendelbaum instead. You just never knew.
She glided out her back door wearing only a bikini, giving me sidelong glances. I wondered how she’d play it: the cool seductress, the hot slut, or the coquettish waif. She oiled herself up pretty well in the dazzling sunlight, drank from a bottle of water and poured the rest over her head. Her wet hair streamed around her throat. She made some moves on the lawn as the breeze blew the sugary scent of her trees against me. I decided to help out a bit and stood, leaning against the patio brace pole, watching her intently. I stepped to the fence and tried to give her a disarming grin, which came off more like a madman’s leer. So be it.
Jane kept oiling up, massaging her glistening legs and rubbing her flat stomach. She gazed at me and smiled, moving her hands over her neck and down across her bikini top, kneading her tits beneath. She did it as though in a stupor, licking her lips. I couldn’t help myself. I leaped the fence and what little cool I possessed evaporated as I practically sprinted to her. She stood in front of me and gave a wicked grin. She was very aware of the camera and kept us both angled directly in front of it. If I took a step out of range she drew me back. It was arousing knowing that she was only using me, a stranger, to make a video to get some other stranger—also me—off.
One by one, she unfastened the buttons of my shirt. Jane turned and shimmied some more, holding the baby oil out in front of her and spurting streams across her shimmering body. She swayed and flicked her tongue, as though the gushing streams were jets of men’s cum. She brushed her bikini top against my chest and wriggled her tight ass in front of me.
“Hi,” I said.
She let loose with a throaty giggle that nearly took my knees out. I noticed that her top hitched in the front. She unhooked the fastener and slid the straps off her shoulders. Jane jiggled and let the top drop, keeping her palms over her nipples. Then she lifted both hands and placed them over her head, giving me full access to her tits, daring me to step over to her. I didn’t mind. I reached forward and caressed her greasy belly, refusing to touch her tits. She jutted her nipples at me and said, “Pinch them,” but I wouldn’t.
Jane slipped her bikini bottoms down to her ankles in one quick motion and then daintily stepped free of them. She led me to the lounge, took my hand and placed it purposefully on her pussy. I inserted a finger in her slit and slowly started moving it in and out. That fruity aroma pervaded the air. She unzipped my pants, tugged aside my briefs, and pulled out my cock. I nearly let out a yelp. She stroked my shaft, all the while cooing softly. Mr. Mendelbaum was missing out, big time. She lowered her mouth to my balls and swathed them with her tongue.
With her hair tied up into a ponytail I had a perfect view of her slurping at my groin, and when she eventually opened her lips wide and took my cock into
her mouth, I let out a sigh and she hummed so loudly I could feel my colon vibrate. She played the mouth-rape game with me too, and I forced her down onto my erection, held her there, then pulled her off. She groaned deeply. I moved my hips forward, fucking her mouth, but trying to keep some control. We were both toying with each other, and that was all right.
Every now and again Jane would turn her head to look directly back at the camera. Then she’d turn back and gaze into my eyes. My cock poked up against the inside of her cheek making it bulge as I moved in and out of her mouth. She began sucking and rubbing more forcefully until I grunted and grabbed a handful of her hair. I thrust wildly into her mouth and finally tugged her lips off me. “Come on, I need to fuck you.”
I lay back. She poised herself over me and wriggled her body down onto my shaft. I let out a loud, low groan. I probably looked even more ridiculous than the FedEx guy, but who gave a shit? I filled her pussy tight and her juices began to flow immediately. With a few short motions, her cunt was slicked up and my cock slammed home. Jane began to sweat a little and I found that highly erotic, the beads forming on her chest and dripping between her tits. I could see the throbbing of the veins in her throat as she chuckled once more.
My cock continued to heat up and the wet smacking sounds we made as she slipped over me seemed loud in my ears. She quickened her pace and I began to feel her orgasm growing. Her tits bounced to the rhythm and she breathed heavily. My hands were locked behind her hips. My sweat splashed down on her. She moaned loudly and I wondered how good the recorder she was using was. She grunted and stiffened as I slammed even deeper into her. The look on her gorgeous face, the drops of sweat hanging on her nipples, it all did it to me and I let out a yowl. My cum filled her just as her pussy tightened again on my cock and she milked another ounce from me.
Jane relaxed and I slid free from her. She reached down and gently stroked me as I lay back, then shifted onto her belly and licked me clean. I watched that tongue wrapping around me, lovingly, as she rubbed my cock against her cheek.
“Listen, I have to tell you something,” she said.
“Forget it, I already know about the camera.”
“You do?” she said. “How?”
“Yeah, I’ve been watching you for a while. I’m Critter, the guy you talked to the other night in your chat. I’m the one you were making the video for.”
Her cheeks grew crimson and she tossed my cock aside. “You bastard, that was a rotten trick!”
I nodded. “Yeah, well, let me make it up to you.”
“How?”
The summer would continue to broil us. I thought about those tits in the bathtub scene where Zypho the alien uses his tentacles to suck out the pussy juices of unsuspecting nubile sorority girls to power his ship.
“Wanna be in another movie?”
Ocean Song
MICHELE ZIPP
She sighed when she woke. Another Saturday without Damien, she thought, but Mallory knew it was time to get on with it, move forward, and attempt to date again. Her best girlfriend, Janice, was having a party at her beachfront house down off the Pacific Coast Highway. “Don’t stay home and pout, Mallory,” Janice said. “I promise this will be a party you wouldn’t want to miss.”
She felt awkward attending the party alone, single. She agonized over the thought of going out and socializing the entire day. But once the sun began to set, she started to head north up the beach on foot. Beats staying home alone, she thought.
The breeze was slight and the spray of the salt water felt good on her face as she walked ankle deep in the water with her jeans rolled up to her knees, her shoes in her hand. The sun looked peaceful and deep orange. It was no longer emanating heat in the west; it was going to bed until the next day. Mallory felt the same way. She wanted to go to sleep, to forget about the party and just dream of Damien. She paused in the dimming daylight and then sat down in the sand. There was no one around. The surfers and beachgoers had all gone home by now, so she stripped out of her denim and walked into the ocean in just her white cotton bikini-cut panties and white tank top. She breathed in the sea air. The water was cool, and when her underthings got wet they were transparent. Her nipples, taut and brown, were visible through her wet shirt, and a hint of her black pubic hair was showing through her underwear. Mallory dunked her long black hair in the water and then went to shore to lie there and relax. Her intentions of going to Janice’s party were fading. She just lay there listening to the beautiful and serene sounds of the ocean.
She must have fallen asleep. When she awoke the sun had long ago set and her underwear was almost dry. Her hair, however, was still damp and fanned out in the sand, its coarseness on her neck. She was uncomfortable as she opened her eyes to the violet-blue sky, the breeze chilling her. She felt that someone was watching her. As she sat up, she instinctively looked to her left and there he was. Damien.
He must have been waiting for her to wake up as he sat there, just ten feet away. He looked hotter than ever, his button-up shirt open slightly so she could see his chest hair, which always turned her on. Without words, he stood up and walked toward her. His shoes were off and his jeans were wet up to the knee. He leaned down to kiss her, but she resisted and pushed him away at first. She loved this man, but they hadn’t seen each other since their breakup three weeks before. It was a painful separation and Mallory wasn’t sure how to process this. She tried to speak, but Damien silenced her with a kiss. Something took over—passion, lust, love, desire. Maybe it was the intense rhythmic sound of the waves crashing on the shore, which seemed like music crashing inside her. It may have been the feel of Damien’s hand on the back of her neck, wiping the sand away, his flesh on her flesh. Maybe it was because she missed his touch—it didn’t matter, she gave in to her urge and let Damien pull her into him. She could smell his scent, sweaty but clean, all man, as his tongue danced inside her mouth. She was hungry for more of him.
They didn’t speak as his hands roamed her body, getting hotter by the second. Damien slipped his fingers inside her panties and clutched her pussy with his big hand. She felt the heat of his fingers cover her, with one slipping into her cave. His mouth was insatiable for every body part and had now roamed south, stopping at her belly as he kissed the spot right below her belly button. He slipped her shirt up over her breasts and both his hands moved up to lightly pinch her nipples, a sprinkling of sand following his fingers and the feel of the grains tickling her bare skin. She lay back, head in the sand, legs spread for him, for more of him.
Damien licked his way down, his hands trailing behind him. With his teeth, he started to pull down her panties, nestling his face against her, inhaling her musky womanly scent. He removed her panties. She could feel his tongue on her clit first, hot, wet. She couldn’t hear anything—no sound, only the waves hitting the shore and the vibrations of Damien moaning into her as he lapped at her folds.
She tugged at the shoulder of his shirt, wanting to see more of him. He drew his face from between her thighs and stood up, removing his shirt and pants; his dick was free from its restraint. Damien knelt above her head, and as Mallory lay there looking up at him he slipped his finger into her mouth and then slowly trailed it down to her cunt. Still reeling from the pleasure his tongue brought, she was sensitive and ticklish at first, but then she took over, circling her clit with the fingers of one hand as she reached up to softly squeeze Damien’s balls with the other. He guided his dick to her wet mouth and she sucked it.
As he lay down on top of her to please her with his mouth, she could feel the rumbling of his pleasure from inside his body as his chest was pressed up against hers. His dick seemed about to explode from the buildup of pressure. Her pussy vibrated with delight when he moaned, long and breathy, sending sensations up to her nipples, which were hard and grazing his chest.
They seemed to follow the cue of the waves as his dick moved in and out of her mouth, his tongue rhythmically manipulating every nerve ending between her legs. The tide was risi
ng and the ocean was now teasing the tips of her toes as well as his hand, with which he steadily held himself over her. Then the water came higher, to her calves. They didn’t move; the water embraced them, the sand softer, molding to their bodies.
He knew what she liked; he knew how to make her come. With his thumb, he pressed hard on her clit, the lips of her pussy wet and inviting him in for more of her. The ocean, too, was begging to take them in as the waves inched higher and higher.
She moaned, his dick deep inside her mouth. She gripped the base of his shaft with her hand and teased the tip of his cock with her tongue. Slowly she slipped one finger to his back entrance, gently circling its pout. She could feel him building up as she did so, and with the very tip of her finger she entered him. He let out a gasp that stimulated her pussy and pushed her closer to the edge.
With one last, long lick, Damien pulled his mouth from her cave and stood up, lifting Mallory out of the high tide and onto dry sand. He wanted to feel her with his dick, slick from her oral work. Damien entered her and stared deep into her eyes. She knew what he was saying—I missed you. As he pumped his stiff cock in and out of her folds, Mallory arched back to accept all of him.
They fucked more intensely than ever before, there in the sand, in the moonlight. Their yearning for each other was undeniable. The passion in their eyes, the way their bodies moved together, the electricity between them said it all without words—I want you, I need you. It was animalistic. They came together, venting their pent-up lust for each other.
The next morning, they awoke to the sun rising high in a clear, blue sky. The new day’s mist was still heavy in the air and the seagulls were the only other creatures in sight. Still naked and without ever saying a word, they held each other in the moist sand. As they lay there facing each other, Damien put his hand through Mallory’s curly mass of hair and smiled. She straddled him, the sand enveloping her knees, and placed a big kiss on his soft, wet lips. They didn’t notice, they didn’t care if anyone came by. They could see each other better now in the sunlight, and she moved her head down between his legs to take him in. Besides the waves, the only sound was her wet mouth sliding up and down Damien’s hard shaft. The mere sight of his body turned her on, and as she looked up at him a wave of desire hit her deep in her pussy. He ran his strong hands through her hair as he leaned up to cup her breasts. The feel of his hands roaming her body took her closer to the edge.