by Alison Tyler
“It…it just happened. I don’t know how.” After that, it had only taken a possessive slap on her butt as she leaned over the sink to water the plants, or a confident tweak of her nipple as she met him in the corridor, to teach her that her whole body was tuned to his key. She’d waited home one morning, pleading that she had stomach cramps, and then as soon as Max went out to catch the bus she’d gone naked into Greg’s room to endure his triumphant smile and submit to his voracious appetite. He’d fucked her on every piece of furniture in the house by now. “It was his idea,” she wailed.
“It was your idea, Emerald.” Max’s eyes were like blue Arctic ice. “I saw the way you looked at him. I knew you wanted to fuck my best mate, no matter how much you denied it. So I told him to make a pass and see how you’d react. I was right, wasn’t I?”
“Oh, my god!” Realization came crashing in on her. “You’re out of your mind!”
“Really?”
“It’s been three months!” she gasped. “You knew all this time?”
He nodded. “I knew. I knew the first time, when you were all over me that evening, hot and gagging for it like you were in heat. Was it guilt, or are you just a horny little bitch? I knew every single time you fucked him, Emerald, because you were… so different. Pliant and eager. Like he’d greased you up for me. I knew all right.”
“Shit,” she whispered, seeing him in a totally new light, remembering the ferocious intensity of his lovemaking over these past months. She’d been too wrapped up in herself to question it. “Max, this is twisted…”
“Twisted.” He smiled sourly. “You betrayed me with my best mate, Emerald. You took something that was ours—mine—and you gave it away. You lied to me. Hey, you’re the one who decided one man wasn’t enough for your hot little cunt. Well, now you’re going to put your money where your mouth is.”
“What d’you mean?”
Greg, who’d kept quiet so far, laughed. “You reckon you need two men to satisfy you, doll. Well, this is where we test that out once and for all.”
“Oh, Christ!” She twisted, outraged, but Max shoved his hand over her mouth.
“Shut up.” He didn’t raise his voice, but there were depths of rage in there. Rage, and something else. “You owe me, Emerald. I’m going to take some of it back.” With his other hand he undid the buckle of his leather belt and pulled it out through the loops. The cloth hissed. “Turn her. I want her ass.”
“All yours,” said Greg. He flipped her over to face him and sat himself down on the carpet, back propped against the sofa, and legs spread wide and straight.
“Greg!” protested Emerald weakly, but if Max was merciless she didn’t expect any from him. His eyes twinkled.
“Hey; your bottom likes a good spanking. We both know that.”
“I don’t—”
“Shut up.” He pushed her face down into his crotch. “You’ve made your bed, doll: now lie in it.” One hand pressed the back of her neck. Her mouth and nose full of his exuberant hair, his hard cock pressed up against her cheek, Emerald wanted to argue but short of biting him, couldn’t. Her head was held firmly almost at floor level but her backside was still up, her bare cheeks spread. And between those cheeks was a molten heat.
“No need to take these off, even,” commented Max, folding the belt in his hand and moving right in to kneel between her legs, nudging them even farther apart. He flicked the stretched gusset that lay tight across her asshole, making her jump. “I’m going to, though.” He yanked down the panties to midthigh, exposing her gash—then he struck her on the right buttock, stingingly. Emerald squealed, her cry muffled against Greg’s groin. She tried to buck away but Max grabbed her pubic mound with his free hand, holding her up and steady for the rain of blows that was to come.
He used the leather end of the belt and only a short length, but there was no escape from the pain he administered. Emerald found that two men were more than capable of pinning her helpless, however much she cried and thrashed. Her ass was soon inflamed with the burning licks of that leather tongue, her body shining with sweat. It was the fact that it was Max doing this to her that was most unbearable though: smart, considerate, tender Max who’d told her only that morning that he loved her. Told her that, even knowing that she was balling his best friend and wet with anticipation for her next fucking.
“Fuck, man,” said Greg, appreciatively, “She’s glowing like a hotplate.”
Max paused and wiped his forehead. His hand was crushing her clit, his thumb sliding around in a swamp of her juices. “Does that hurt?”
“Yes!” she wailed.
“Think how it felt, me knowing you couldn’t wait to get home and give this wet pussy to my best friend. You think you’ve been punished enough?”
“Yes!”
“You think you needed punishing?”
Emerald took a tear-filled breath. “Yes. I’m sorry!”
He dropped the belt and laid a finger on the amber iris between her swollen cheeks, and Emerald felt the involuntary dilation and flex of her muscles. “He even had you in the ass, I hear. Funny that, because when I asked, you always said no.”
“I didn’t ask,” said Greg with a smirk. “I find she responds best to that.”
Max’s voice dropped. “Time I reclaimed some territory then.” Emerald heard a crinkle and a ripping sound as he extracted a condom packet from his pocket and tore it open with his teeth. Then there was the sound of his fly being opened, an inhalation, a grunt, and then suddenly his blunt glans was pressing at the gate of her upraised ass and demanding entry. There was lubricant on the rubber, which rendered the penetration bearable—but only just. He still burned as he went in. Emerald cried like something being broken.
“You go, man,” murmured Greg.
Swiftly Max found his rhythm, his latex-glazed length pistoning in and out of her ass, his hands on her burning butt, his thighs pumping into hers. His scrotum slapped against her reddened skin. “Fuck, yes,” he groaned.
“Yes,” Emerald echoed, her mouth painting Greg’s thigh. Greg leaned forward and grabbed her dangling breasts, scooping the orbs from her bra cups and pinching the nipples unmercifully.
“She’s going to come, man,” he told Max. “You keep fucking her dirty ass and the bitch is going to come.”
Emerald, drowning in pubic hair, groaned out loud.
“Well, I’m not stopping,” Max said through clenched teeth. “She’s getting it all.”
“You were right,” Greg announced, his fingers rolling and twisting her nipples like they were dough. “She is a dirty slut. Your girlfriend is the dirtiest slut I’ve ever fucked. I want her again when you’ve finished with her, man.”
Max shot his load at that, thrusting deep into Emerald’s hot and clenching hole. She came louder than he did, though. When he pulled out and rolled away to skin off his rubber, she collapsed sobbing between Greg’s thighs.
“My turn,” Greg muttered, rolling her onto her back and kneeling astride her head to stuff his erection between her lips. Her face was burning with exertion and her mouth felt like glue.
“I need a drink!” she begged.
“You’re about to get one, doll.”
She wrenched her mouth away. “Please!”
“Get her a glass of water,” said Max, and when Greg cast him a frown added with steel in his tone: “My rules, mate.”
With a grunt Greg dismounted and stomped away into the kitchen. Emerald lay quietly, trying to get her breath back. She could see Max watching her, his expression dark, his hand moving on his cock.
“You like two men then?” he asked, his voice low but not gentle.
“Max, I love you…”
“That’s not what I asked.”
Greg came back in with a glass of tap water. Max took it from him, helped Emerald sit up then, still supporting her with one arm, and lifted the glass over her face. She looked up at it yearningly as he tilted it near her lips. Very carefully, without letting the glass touch her,
he poured the water out in a narrow stream for her to catch in her open mouth. As she gulped some spilled down over her sweat-sticky breasts and her belly, and she was grateful for how cool it was on her skin. Her whipped ass itched like fire on the carpet.
“Put her on the table,” said Max as he laid the glass aside. “Face up.”
Between the two of them they lifted her and laid her upon the coffee table. It was a good thing it was sturdily built. Emerald was carefully positioned so that her head hung off one end, her throat drawn out long and taut. Max went down to kneel between her thighs again. “Open your mouth for Greg, Emerald,” he instructed.
She obeyed and Greg, kneeling, took instant advantage.
“Good girl.” His cock was shiny and sleek with frustration; he’d waited longer than he was used to for satisfaction. He dipped into her, painting the inside of her mouth with his salt, then pushed deep down her throat. In this position no bend in her neck impeded him. Emerald’s eyes bulged and she squirmed. Hands closed over her ankles.
“Careful,” said Max. “She has to breathe, remember.”
Greg withdrew, letting her gasp, then slid in again. He was as careful as he could be in the circumstances. As he began to thrust, Emerald felt her legs being lifted and draped over Max’s shoulders, felt him slip his still-proud cock into her sex and began to stroke evenly, without urgency, leaning into her thighs and pelvis.
“That’s it. That’s what you want isn’t it, Emerald? Two of us. Fucking your cunt and your mouth at the same time. You want your cunt and your throat both full of cock, spit like a roast pig, you dirty little whore.” His hand stroked her mound, avoiding direct contact with her clit but teasing all around it. Emerald could feel the pressure building in her spine and her head. She groaned around Greg’s thick shaft. He slapped her right tit till it danced.
“You know what I’m going to do?” Max continued as he eased in and out of her wet slot. “I’m going to give Greg fucking rights to you. What are friends for, after all? You want two of us, Emerald; you’ve got it. Whenever he likes he can fuck you. When you get home from work, when I’m away, when I’m busy with something on the TV…when I feel like watching. ’Cos you know what? I really enjoy seeing him fuck you. That’s so hot, Emerald, the way his big cock stretches your lips and your throat. I can see it going down, girl. I can see how you’re getting fucked by him. And I can feel how your cunt’s so hot around my prick because you’ve never had sex this good, you dirty bitch. You think you can cope? Belonging to us both? Serving us both with your sweet snatch whenever we want it?”
Greg’s movements were growing jerky and less controlled. His hands bit into her shoulders. Emerald was running short on air, but caring less and less. Her blood was roaring in her ears.
“Pull out!” ordered Max. “Come on her tits—I want to see it—come all over her tits, you bastard!”
With a wrench Greg pulled out of her mouth to reposition himself and with a last manual stroke let loose a gush of come. It didn’t fly far; it never did with him. It foamed out like champagne from a bottle, splashing on her breasts and belly. Emerald reached up to suck and lick his balls as he spasmed, but she wasn’t allowed to guzzle for long because Max’s thrusts became suddenly staccato and then he was coming in her again, for the second time that morning, groaning and cursing. He reached out and wet his fingers in Greg’s semen, smearing it over her nipples then bringing it down to where his cock was pulsing and throbbing against her. Fingers slicked with the other man’s come, he stirred her clit until she arched and flailed and Greg had to sit on her face to muffle her screams.
Emerald spent the afternoon on the sofa, draped across both their laps and snoozing as the two men raced Formula 1 cars on the games console, equilibrium restored. Every now and then she’d stir and Greg would slap her ass. Between levels Max would stroke her hair and smile, his eyes full of dark, possessive tenderness.
THE LAST CIGARETTE
Heidi Champa
They drove to the party in silence, the cold leather of the BMW feeling good wherever their skin touched it on the warm summer night. It was his father’s birthday and they were going to his parents’ huge house to celebrate. Once they arrived, he would disappear into the smoky den, to talk politics and finance with his father’s rich cronies. She would wander around talking to no one, drinking and sneaking cigarettes on the balcony. Everyone else would smoke in the house, but he disapproved of her smoking, especially in front of his parents.
Out in the night air, she breathed deep the scent of the flowers in their lush garden. She lit her cigarette, letting the smoke fill her tight lungs. She exhaled and looked over the balcony. The railing was wide, and she leaned onto the cold stone, just a bit a first, then farther. This allowed her head to rest beyond the railing’s border and her feet to barely reach the concrete below.
She leaned farther over the balcony rail, hesitating for a moment before lifting off her feet, her hands gripping the edge tightly. The feeling made her tingle with a mixture of fear and excitement. Leaning just a bit farther, she dangled her head, feet off the ground, the cigarette falling into the shrubs below.
“What are you doing?” She heard the voice behind her, making her head snap up and landing her feet back on the floor.
“Nothing.” Looking at him in the dim light, she saw his tell-tale black vest, signifying that he was a waiter. His hand moved to his mouth, as he inhaled his own cigarette.
“Shouldn’t you be inside? Don’t you have to mingle, or something?”
“What about you, don’t you have a job to do tonight?”
“I just needed a break; I wasn’t expecting company out here.”
“Sorry to disappoint you.”
“Oh, you haven’t.” He inhaled deeply and blew smoke in her direction. She stepped closer still, noticing his broad shoulders, his large hands.
“I’ve seen you here before, you know, at other parties.”
“Funny, I don’t remember seeing you. I must not be spending enough time out here. Who are you hiding from anyway, your husband?”
“Fiancé.”
“Oh, sorry.” He smirked in the dark. “He must be a real catch.”
“Well, no, but he’s rich.”
He cracked a smile, and laughed at her admission.
“I can’t believe I said that. I shouldn’t have said that.”
“Why not?”
“Because it’s terrible.”
“I don’t know, not if it’s true. Is it?”
She didn’t know how to answer. He took another drag of his cigarette. He looked at her expectantly.
“So, does he know what you do out here?”
“I don’t think he cares what I do out here. I could do anything.”
“Really, is that a fact?”
“Yes, it is.”
“Interesting.”
He just stood there, staring at her. At that moment, she felt her face go hot, and he took a step closer to her. He closed the small gap between them, eyeing her up and down, holding a cigarette between his fingers. She took it without thinking, and he raised a lighter toward her. She guided his hand gently with hers, and deeply inhaled. Just touching him caused an electric current to run through her. It felt foreign and strange after months of dormancy. He stood just a bit too close, waiting for her to retreat. She didn’t. Their combined smoke pooled around them, as the sounds from inside faded and grew. She thought of asking his name but didn’t really care. He didn’t ask for hers.
The next few moments ticked by at a snail’s pace. She waited for him to nudge them over the edge. Behind them, she heard the first words of “Happy Birthday to You” echoing through the room. She knew she should go inside, do the right thing. But as she turned, he grabbed her wrist.
He pulled her against him, his fingers digging slightly into her back. Their faces almost touched, and she was unsure of what to do next. Making up her mind for her, he kissed her, plunging his tongue into her mouth. It felt more right tha
n anything had in months, maybe years. His teeth caught her bottom lip, and he tugged gently before covering her mouth again. His fingers traced down her neck to her collarbone, darting under the fabric of her dress. Pressing her against the facade of the house, he ran his hands into her bra, pinching her nipples between his fingers. His breath tasted of smoke and scotch, just like her fiancé’s would after a long night in the den. But somehow, this was different. Giving herself over to the moment, she realized she wanted more. She freed her mouth from his and tasted his neck with her tongue, biting the soft flesh between her teeth.
He reached down and lifted the hem of her skirt. He slid her panties down to her knees, and she moaned as his fingers touched her softly between her legs. He smiled when he found her wet and her own heat overwhelmed her. It was as if he had unlocked her cage and set her free. He held her and continued stroking, her hips bucking along with his rhythm. The balcony door was open, but she didn’t bother to muffle her cries of pleasure. She almost willed someone to come out on the balcony and find her. She whimpered when he removed his hand from her moist pussy. He put his two wet fingers up to her lips, and she stuck out her tongue to taste herself on his skin. Her fingers pulled at his zipper, as if they were controlled by someone else.
Turning her around, he pushed her onto the balcony’s cool stone rail. He nudged her forward until her head hung heavy at the edge. She was barely standing. He knelt down behind her and ran his tongue over her wet lips, spreading her wide with his long fingers. He teased her clit with his fingertip, as he speared her pussy with his tongue. She looked down over the edge and allowed his mouth to devour her, until she felt her knees begin to weaken. Before she lost her footing, he stood up, and grabbed her by both hips, rubbing the tip of his cock over her wetness.