by Alison Tyler
There is a lazy kind of satisfaction in his voice that makes me both like him and despise him. His thumb finds my clit, his hand trapped between us. He presses, circles, presses, and I come loudly—for my husband, for myself, and for this new person who I will hopefully never see again.
And then Sean gives in and he is coming too. Dave will not come just yet. Dave’s orgasms are private.
There is a flurry of activity as my husband escorts my throw-away lover out the front door. But this one surprises me, because before he can be rushed out, Sean leans in and kisses me—chaste and nearly sweet, right on the lips. For a split second, I wonder what his cock would taste like on my lips and on my tongue. I shake the thought off and wave good-bye.
The words are out before he’s over the threshold. “You whore.”
I wait—still, silent.
The door bangs with his huge rage. His big red, welcomed rage. This is part of his release. “How could you do that? How could you let him do that? You fucking slut. You dirty filthy little bitch.”
He’s breaking things. There goes my wine glass and then a cheap vase. He throws my stockings in the fire and watches them incinerate.
I have learned this part well. I say nothing. No arguments or pleas. No apologies or defense. I put my head down and I wait.
“Glenna? How?”
Nothing. I press my lips together. My husband, strong and big by nature, is crumbled by the act he himself has asked me to perform. He drops to his knees, crawls to me, puts his head against my still naked body. He pushes his face to my pussy and I wait. I hold my breath and my ears ring. “How?” His voice is now a plea.
I put my hands in his hair, a clearly comforting gesture. I stroke and soothe and wait. “How,” he says again but he has turned his face to me and is licking with long even strokes over my twice-abused clit.
It steals my breath every time, this whole damn scenario. The dark secret part of me that loves it revels in the perversity. I spread my legs, let him in. When he’s wrung two short, sweet orgasms from me I help him. He is unsteady and dazed, drunk on his own sick fantasy. I pull his slacks off and wait. It changes here: I’m on top, he’s on top, standing, sitting. Sometimes in his rage and self-induced hurt he takes me from behind, pushing into my ass like he is punishing me.
Not tonight. Tonight it’s sweet. Tonight he lays me back like a new bride and climbs between my parted thighs. His eyes shine, softer than back at the bar, unfocused and humbled. “It’s okay. It’s okay,” he says, kissing along my neck. Now he is soothing me. He is reassuring me. “I know why you did it, Glenna.”
Because you asked me to…
“I’ll forgive you. I love you. And you love me. I know you do.”
“I do.” Look what I do for you…
The dark part of me laughs. Because it’s also for me; I am simply loath to admit it.
“Glenna, Glenna, the good witch.” He sighs his pet name for me as he fucks me. Harder and harder and we both spiral down into our sinister pleasure. And here is his private orgasm. His dirty little secret. Coming where another man, a stranger, has already come. But I don’t like him to be alone in this thing so I come with him, a warm but shallow orgasm.
For now I am redeemed. For now I am good. I am back in the land of saint. Until my next trial by fire.
WHERE THERE’S SMOKE
Kristina Wright
Is his cock bigger than mine?”
Daniel is on top of her, inside her, when he whispers his urgent question. Megan’s eyes fly open and she stares at him in the dim light of the bedside lamp. Daniel’s words have pulled her away from a very dirty fantasy about Adrian Grenier and, consequently, away from her orgasm.
“What?” she gasps as he thrusts into her. “Who?”
Daniel stares at her, all dark-eyed intensity and possessive masculinity. “I know about him. You don’t have to lie.”
Oh, shit. That is her first panicked thought. Then, How did he find out?
She almost blurts out what she is thinking. Instead, she takes a breath and says, “What are you talking about, Daniel?”
She has been so careful. So very, very careful. She loves Daniel. They have been married for seven years, most of them happy with the exception of a rough patch here and there. Richard came along during one of those rough patches: a comforting shoulder to cry on, a friend to share coffee with; an older man who knew the ups and downs of marriage because he’d been married for nineteen years himself. She has no intention of divorcing Daniel. For that matter, she has no intention of ending her relationship with Richard, either.
“I just want to know if his cock is bigger than mine,” Daniel says insistently. He pushes her knees back to her chest; she gasps as he slips deeper. “Does he fill you up?”
Megan has no idea what crazy game Daniel is playing. He doesn’t seem angry to know she has a lover—quite the contrary. He is hard and thick inside her, sweat glistening on his brow. He wants her, that much is clear. But she doesn’t know why he initiated this little late-night tryst before asking her about her extramarital affair. She turns her head away from him, mind racing. Her body doesn’t care about the battle her mind is waging, she is wet and hot and her pussy ripples around Daniel’s cock.
“Mmm, I bet you’re thinking about him right now. I can feel your pussy squeezing me.”
She moans, feigning mindless arousal to buy herself some time. What should she say? Does he want her confession like this, while they’re making love? What is he trying to prove? She feels a rush of conflicting emotions: guilt, remorse, anger.
Arousal.
He stretches over her, nuzzling her neck. “Just tell me, Megs. Tell me how big his cock is.”
Why would a man want to know that? She can’t begin to imagine why Daniel is obsessed with the size of Richard’s cock, but she’s not thinking of Adrian Grenier anymore. Now she is thinking about her lover’s cock.
“It’s huge,” she blurts out.
It’s not even true. Richard does have a nice, thick cock, maybe a couple of inches longer and a little thicker, but it isn’t huge. She hadn’t even really thought about comparing the two until Daniel asked. She envisions the two men side by side, cocks hard for her, and a moan escapes before she can stifle it.
“Huge, huh?” Daniel has gone still inside her.
Shit. She should have kept her mouth shut. He didn’t really want to know. She closes her eyes, waiting to feel him pull away. Her fists are clenched in the sheets. Her orgasm has completely left the building. What in the hell was Daniel hoping to get from this?
Then he begins moving again, sliding out slowly until the head of his cock is barely nestled in her pussy before pushing back inside her. Again and again, he moves slowly inside her, teasing her. “Tell me,” he growls. “Tell me about your bigdicked lover.”
The whole thing is surreal. This is Daniel, for god’s sake. Daniel, who got jealous when she told him the barista at the coffee shop had started giving her free coffee when his boss wasn’t around. Daniel, who doesn’t like to overhear her gossiping with her girlfriends about ex-boyfriends. But here he is, fucking her like a man possessed, not possessive, asking her about her lover.
Desire, hot and wet and needy, curls tight in her belly. Scared as she is, Daniel’s words and intensity are driving her back toward orgasm. She wraps her legs around his back, pulling him into her.
“What do you want to know?” she whispers in his ear, digging her nails into the muscles of his shoulders. “What do you want to know about my lover?”
The words are naughty, delicious morsels on her tongue.
Daniel tucks his hands under her ass, pulling her up to meet his cock. “Tell me what it’s like to fuck him,” he says, his voice low and dirty, like an anonymous pervert on the phone. “Tell me how you fuck him in our bed.”
She moans, clenching her pussy around him. How does he know? Why doesn’t it bother him? She doesn’t care anymore. Later, when they are done, they can have it out once and
for all. But now, this moment with Daniel inside her, all she cares about is getting fucked.
“He comes over on Saturdays when you’re golfing,” she confesses. “Early. I call him as soon as you’re out the door and he’s here with the hour.”
Daniel is still moving slowly inside her, listening to every word of her adulterous confession. “Can’t wait to have him fuck you?”
She presses her lips to his neck and sucks hard. He moans, pressing his neck to her mouth. She thinks about sucking Richard’s cock, how she can never get enough of him even after she’s made him come. Does Daniel want to know that?
“I love your mouth, baby,” Daniel whispers, and for a moment she is caught between the reality of being with her husband and the memory of her lover saying those very words just a few days earlier. “Tell me what you do with him.”
She closes her eyes and thinks about last Saturday. “Everything,” she says. “Anything he wants.”
“Tell me.”
A shiver dances across her skin as she remembers. “He tied me to the bed last Saturday,” she says. “Spread open for him.”
The memory is like a physical touch and she feels the goose bumps rising on her damp flesh: Richard tying her down, his strong hands running over her body, pinching her nipples hard until she arched off the bed and screamed for him to fuck her. He had fucked her with his fingers first, before pushing his cock inside her. She came so many times she lost count, straining at her binds until they left marks on her wrists and ankles. She won’t let Daniel tie her up. She hates being out of control, feeling helpless and weak. But not with Richard. When Richard wants something, she gives it to him.
“Tied you up,” Daniel repeats. “What did he do to you?”
“Fucked me.”
“How?”
Should she tell him? Does he really want to know the details? There is enough of a survivor’s instinct floating around in her fevered brain for her to think she should hold back the details. Isn’t it enough that he knows she has a lover?
Daniel pulls out of her, leaving her suddenly empty, bereft. With one smooth motion, he flips her over onto her stomach like she is a rag doll; like he is Richard, taking control. With his arm under her waist, he raises her up on her hands and knees. A sharp smack to her ass makes her yelp, first pulling away, then pushing back toward him, wanting to feel that sting again, wanting him to warm her skin.
“Tell me how he fucks you,” he demands again. “I won’t fuck you until you do.”
She whimpers. She’s beyond caring what happens after they’re done. She needs this. She needs Daniel. The realization is startling. She loves Daniel, yes, but she cannot remember the last time she needed him.
“He fucks me any way he wants,” she says, feeling a warm blush spread through her cheeks. “He makes me beg.”
“How did he fuck you Saturday?”
“Hard. Rough.”
“Where?”
She flashes back to Saturday, the way Richard had fucked her, used her. The way she had begged for more even after she was so sore she knew she wouldn’t be able to let Daniel touch her for days; begged for more even after Daniel called and said he was on his way home from the golf course.
“He straddled me and fucked my tits and came in my mouth,” she says, remembering the way Richard had made her beg to suck him. “Then he fucked my pussy.”
It’s easier to say it when Daniel isn’t looking in her eyes. The saying, “Confession is good for the soul” pops into her mind and she lets out a little hysterical laugh. She never thought she would be confessing anything like this: on her hands and knees, wiggling her ass for Daniel to fuck her.
“Dirty girl,” Daniel says, giving her ass another smack. “Did you like it?”
She nods quickly, her long hair streaming down to cover her shameless face. “I loved it,” she says. “I was so wet.”
Daniel slides two fingers inside her. “Wet like you are now?”
“Wetter.” She had soaked the sheets that day with Richard. She’d been changing the bedding to hide the incriminating evidence when Daniel came home. She wonders if he remembers. “Wetter than I’ve ever been.”
Daniel pulls his fingers from her. “Roll over.”
His voice is hard, demanding. She hardly recognizes it. Daniel is a sweet, gentle lover. But tonight he is someone else. Tonight he is more like Richard, which is why she moves quickly to obey him. Lying on her back, she watches him warily as he kneels between her open thighs.
“Show me how he tied you to the bed.”
She shakes her head, her heart pounding. She doesn’t know why the idea of letting Daniel tie her up scares her so much and letting Richard do it feels natural. “No, Daniel, I don’t want to—”
“I’m not going to tie you up,” he interrupts her. “You can save that for him. I just want to see how you were laying. Show me.”
She slowly stretches her arms over her head, grasping the brass headboard. This isn’t so bad, she decides, watching Daniel’s gaze slide from her hands down to her breasts, then lower.
“And your legs?”
She spreads her legs wide, stretching them toward the corners of the bed. Though she’s not tied, she feels helpless. She likes the way Daniel looks at her, the way his hungry gaze stares between her spread legs as if he has never seen her before. And perhaps he hasn’t. Not like this. She feels out of control.
She finds her voice. “Fuck me,” she whispers, her mouth as dry as her pussy is wet.
“How?” He smiles wickedly, but his eyes are dangerously serious. “Tell me.”
“Hard. Please. Fuck me.”
She watches as he takes his cock in his hand. She is arching her hips up to meet him, whimpering softly. He strokes the head of his cock over her sensitive, swollen clit and she nearly comes off the bed. Gripping the headboard, she strains upward toward his cock. She needs this, now. She needs him to fill her and fuck her and make her come. Her skin is on fire; she’s panting raggedly as if she has run a mile. Richard does this to her, makes her feel like this. And now Daniel is doing it to her, too.
“Fuck me,” she says, staring down her body at his cock barely brushing against her wet slit. Then she says it again, her voice rising to a pleading moan. “I need you to fuck me.”
Daniel has the nerve to laugh. “You’re so fucking wet,” he says. “Are you thinking about him?”
She hesitates, meeting his gaze. Does he really want to know? She seems nothing but raw animal arousal in his expression. She nods.
“You like the way he fucks you hard?”
She nods again. “Yes,” she whispers.
“Do you want me to fuck that way?”
She blinks, staring at him for a long moment. Does she?
“Yes. Fuck me, Richard.” She didn’t mean to say his name. She hears Daniel’s sharp intake of breath. “I’m sorry,” she says. “I’m so sorry.”
Daniel is on her before she can finish her apology, his cock slamming into her, his hands wrapping around her wrists, pinning her to the bed. He leans over her, sucking each nipple hard, hard enough to make her whimper, hard enough so that she feels it in her clit.
“Say it again,” he says fiercely, nipping at a tender nipple. “Tell him to fuck you.”
She’s trying to catch her breath, her body straining toward release. “Fuck me,” she gasps. “Fuck me, Richard.”
She grips the headboard as Richard—no, Daniel—fucks her hard, slamming into her again and again until the intense pleasure makes her whimper. She feels full and swollen, her pussy gripping the length of his cock. Images, fantasies, flash through her mind: Daniel watching Richard fuck her, then the two of them taking her at the same time with Richard by the bed, offering his cock to be sucked while Daniel fucks her.
The combination of sensation and fantasy loosens the knot of desire in her belly until it finally, almost painfully, sends her over the edge into orgasm. It begins with a tightening ripple through her pussy, wet heat radiating thro
ughout her as her body goes taut and still in preparation for the onslaught. Then she is coming with a scream, thrashing beneath Daniel as he fucks her faster, harder, making it hurt in that way she loves. Making her feel every inch as he fucks her, his hands digging into her ass, his head tucked into her shoulder as he whispers her fantasies.
“That’s it, fuck him. Come on his big cock.”
She hears herself as if from a distance, a wild thing whimpering and moaning, incoherent and mindless. All that matters is that she is coming, coming hard. It doesn’t matter whose cock is slamming into her, coming inside her. She is getting what she has needed for so long.
He groans, arching over her as he comes, their bodies pressed together, his cock buried inside her. He is slick with sweat, panting in her ear, pressing her against the bed. She feels helpless, overpowered. Tears stream from the corners of her eyes, more wetness leaking from her body. Her physical release has triggered an emotional one and she feels raw, as if all the hard fucking has stripped away her protective barrier.
Daniel rolls off her, releasing her. She doesn’t move. She still feels the aftershocks of her orgasm tightening her pussy, phantom sensations reminding her of what she just experienced.
“You can let go of the headboard,” Daniel says, his voice rough with exertion.
She slowly releases her grip on the rails, feeling the blood return to her fingers. She lies still and quiet, afraid to say anything. Afraid of what happens now.
Daniel pulls her into his arms and cradles her head against his shoulder. She feels feverish and the close contact doesn’t feel the way it did a moment ago, but she doesn’t resist. She curls her hand on his chest, over his heart.
He kisses the top of her head. “That was incredible, babe.”
She can’t argue with that. It was incredible. The best sex they’ve ever had. Maybe the best sex she’s ever had.
“Thanks for indulging me,” he says, stroking her shoulder soothingly.
She is still afraid to move. She doesn’t know the rules of this game he is playing. “Indulging you?” she asks, careful to keep her voice neutral.