Lust

by Violet Blue

  He closed his eyes and feasted, twisting his tongue against her and teasing her until she made high-pitched noises of wanting, then working one finger into her and stroking that soft place inside while his tongue moved quickly against her clit. Dag’s body tensed; she dug her fingers into my calves, into his bent shoulder; she threw her head back, forehead beaded in sweat, and thrust against Rob’s diligent mouth and came, sobbing, a red flush spreading over her breasts. Rob laid his head on her thigh and stroked her belly as she rocked, her face contorted.

  Rob raised himself up. He moved to Dag’s face, brushed his nose against her cheek, and ever so politely—though a bit out of breath—asked in her ear, “Dag, can I fuck you?” She looked at him, a bit wild-eyed, and simply said, “Yes.”

  He stripped off his jeans, reached into his back pocket for a condom, and tore it open. He knelt in front of her, rolled it onto his swollen cock, and stroked the tip of it against her moist opening. She breathed deeply—not reluctant, but nervous, if I was reading her right. Dag had told me about when she’d lost her virginity with another woman; obviously it had been nothing like this. While I could see a question passing over her face, I could tell she was hungry to feel him inside her. She pushed upward toward him and he slid home easily against the slickness he had left on her with his mouth, coaxed out of her with his tongue. Dag let out a moan.

  Rob didn’t waste any time—meeting no resistance he began to fuck her deep and long, pulling almost all the way out before ramming back into her willing cunt again. She met his strokes with her own, and before long they were two bodies pulling and grunting and sweating. I was crushed against the headboard by Dag’s back; all I could do was watch them and crave to be closer somehow. Their nakedness was right in front of me but tantalizingly out of reach.

  It was a violent dance, a hard rutting; Dag’s strong hands gripped Rob’s ass and slammed him into her, and Rob clenched his teeth and hammered her as though he were an animal in heat. As Dag began again to moan, she grabbed him by the jaw and started talking. “That’s it, fuck me hard, bitch. I’m telling you to fuck me harder.” Hearing that seemed to crank Rob up another notch. Dag let out a strangled yell and began to convulse against him, and Rob gave two last hard thrusts and choked on a cry of his own, his face twisted in ecstasy as he orgasmed in Dag’s pulsing cunt.

  Rob collapsed onto Dag’s chest, his arms trembling, and Dag hooked her ankles around his knees and held him close. The world was still for a moment, just breathing and heartbeats and our dizzy coming down. Then Dag reached up to tenderly stroke the side of Rob’s face. “If you don’t mind,” she said quietly, “I have something to attend to.”

  Rob slipped his softening cock out of her and rolled to the side, his chest still heaving. Dag sat up, and I finally took a full breath after being pinned by their weight. Dag turned over onto her stomach and, finally, happily for me, slipped two fingers into me and began to flick her tongue over my long-swollen clit. I was on the edge of a come already, and when Rob opened his eyes, he scooted over to me and slipped one of his own fingers alongside Dag’s palm and gradually into me, then a second one. They moved inside me in tandem, stretching me open. The intensity of the combined penetration, along with Dag’s skilled tongue and the sudden shock of Rob’s thumb pressing into my asshole brought me to an explosive orgasm, waves of heat crashing over my body as the two beautiful boys worked my pleasure.

  When I’d stopped coming, Dag pulled me down and wrapped her arms around my waist, holding me close. We could barely move. Rob slid off the bed and trotted out of the room, reappearing a few seconds later with the bowl of grapes. He lay on his side and fed us each the cool, juicy fruits one by one, while Dag brushed her hand back and forth over his shoulder blade. She trailed her finger down his spine, and he shivered, arching up to her touch like a cat being petted. He looked up at her shyly, and Dag caught his eye, then grinned down at me.

  “The night is still young,” she said with a wink.

  THE HALL OF JUSTICE

  Sloane Square

  I was bad last night. Really bad.

  For months I’ve been wanting to get my hands on him. He was young, tender. Not a virgin, I hoped. I knew he wanted me too, but there was another woman.

  It was Halloween.

  I let him warm up with a couple of drinks, then I sat close to him with my hand on his knee. It took two minutes for him to get up his courage.

  His mouth was on mine forcefully, his tongue strong. I was surprised by his aggressiveness. God, how I wanted to climb on top of him, but that other woman was a distraction.

  We pulled away from each other, panting. I took a sip of my drink and smiled at him.

  I exhaled. “Baby, that was good.”

  Justin seemed pleased. I was dying to wrap my legs around him, but there were so many fucking people around.

  My friends were looking at me.

  One of them mouthed, “What are you doing?”

  I slid next to my friend and whispered, “You know I want to break him in.”

  “What about her?”

  “Maybe I’ll have them both.”

  We grinned at each other.

  Another round of drinks went down easily. Justin and I moved to the dance floor.

  Everywhere shirtless men were pressed against each other. The music was pounding. The gin had gone to my head, but I was already drunk on power.

  There was a woman in a latex catsuit. Her nipples were jutting through the slick fabric. It was hypnotizing. There was a man in a leather mask, his torso covered with tattoos; and five beautiful men in drag, dressed as the Fanta Girls, their long, long legs smooth in stockings and high heels. I wanted to look under their skirts.

  We were dancing, the bass thundering through us. Justin was still distracted by the other woman. She looked so prim, so buttoned up, adrift.

  The slick bodies surrounded us. Two, three, four men gripping each other; chests, arms, hands in dark places.

  I put my hands on her hips and pulled her toward me. She did not resist. Her eyes were shining, wet. I looked at Justin. He was breathing deeply through his mouth. I began to unbutton her shirt, first from the bottom exposing her smooth stomach, and then at her creamy neck. I yanked the elastic from her hair and shook the waves around her face. Her hands slid around my waist and then our lips touched, with a jolt. Her mouth was open and I slid inside. The lights were flashing behind my eyes. I could smell her perfume and my own. Her body was tight against me.

  I opened my eyes. Catwoman was whipping one of my friends. Even through the strobe lights I could tell he was hard.

  I found Justin. He was standing in the midst of the surging tide. He stumbled forward. The other woman was still in my arms. I pulled her against me as he stepped in behind her. His mouth was on mine in a frenzy. His fingers, searing, dug into my shoulders as we crushed her between us. Her head was flung back, mouth open, as we three writhed to the music. My fingers found his pants pocket and I delved inside to feel him. Her hungry sex was pressed against mine and I felt like I was having them both.

  My senses were on overload. I remembered a report I did in school. Pick one of the five senses. Only five? The sixth sense must be when you know you’re dripping wet. The seventh is when you feel your cock stiffen. The eighth…

  I looked up. There was a pretty boy dressed as Wonder Woman adjusting his breastplate. I hoped she would use the Golden Lariat on us.

  I was tired of waiting. I took Justin’s hand and led him off the dance floor.

  There was a naughty schoolgirl dancing on the platform. She could have used a spanking.

  He was following me blindly, weaving in and out of the groping hands, the thrusting bodies.

  I couldn’t wait another minute to be alone with him. I pushed open the door to the Ladies’ Room. It smelled like sex. Had I been a man, I would have been instantly hard.

  I felt like I was entering a new dimension. Boys, girls, boys dressed as girls, girls who had been boys.
/>   Justin was gripping my hand. His eyes blinking, without seeing. The music was loud, the voices blaring.

  I pushed him into one of the stalls. We were rough. My back was against the door. I was pinned in place by his insistent hard-on.

  Suddenly I dropped to my knees. Justin gasped and steadied himself, forehead pressed against the door. I yanked open his belt.

  “Oh Jesus!”

  Was that fear in his voice? Or excitement?

  “You’re not a virgin, are you, baby?”

  “No, but it’s been a long…”

  He shuddered as I took him deep in my mouth. I could barely hear him moan over the clamor in the room.

  I glared up at him. His mouth was agape. His eyes were wide, then narrowed to slits, then wide again. Each time he opened them he seemed surprised to see me there. He dropped one hand to touch my hair, bracing himself with the other as I slammed him into my wet mouth. My hands were on his hips, directing the rhythm.

  Someone was smoking a joint. The thick perfume hung in waves around us. Justin pulled me to my feet, his hands digging down the front of my pants. Through the din, I tried to hear the pop-pop-pop of the button-fly. He jumped as if stung when his fingers told him I had gone commando.

  “Oh baby, I forgot to wear panties.” My voice was dripping.

  He nodded. His response choked in his throat. His right hand delved between my legs. With his left, he eased my jeans over my hips. He had been a pianist and his finger work was still good.

  We were both panting. There was a racket from the next stall. A few girls had gone in together. I figured they were doing lines or dropping X. The whole room was alive with scents and murmurs. I hoped people were getting off in all the other stalls. I didn’t bother to stifle the sounds of our action as his slick fingers played furiously.

  I pushed him onto the toilet seat. His pants were at his knees, legs spread as wide as the fabric would allow. His pulsing sex beckoned. I climbed on top, straddling him. He was pushing my shirt up to get at my breasts.

  There was a small opening between the sides of the stall and the wall. I slipped my fingers in and, gripping tightly, began to ride and rut. Juice was pouring over him. My biceps were shaking from the exertion. I had superhuman strength. I was hurtling through space and time.

  Each time I thrust against him, his head would slam into the metal seat-cover dispenser. Justin didn’t seem to notice. I thought I could rip the walls off the stall like some Incredible Hulk, pumped up on hormones.

  “I am so fucking hot for you, baby!”

  “You’re, you’re…” His head was banging against the holder.

  “I think we should become lovers.” I felt like a rodeo cowboy, bucking. “I mean regular, frequent lovers.”

  From the next stall someone was touching my fingers.

  Justin was breathless. His long lashes fluttered against his cheek.

  I put my hand behind his head to soften the blows. This would be a shitty time for him to get a concussion.

  I continued at full gallop.

  “Maybe even the three of us,” I mused.

  His body tensed and I was thrown high, suspended mid-lunge. The clock stopped.

  Had I stayed on for eight seconds?

  We crashed down together.

  The finish line was in sight and I could hear a roar from the stands. I was cheering with them at the top of my lungs. It seemed like everyone in the room was rooting for me.

  THE IMPORTANCE OF GOOD NETWORKING

  Saskia Walker

  The importance of good networking became intimately apparent to me when I got to grips with Carl Sedgemore, our new IT man. In fact Carl hammered the fundamentals of good networking home with such exquisite attention to detail that I was thoroughly fascinated. It’s his specialist subject, and the day he arrived in our offices he became mine.

  Belinda informed me of his presence that first day. She walked back into our cube, leaned over my monitor and mouthed “Fresh meat” at me, nodding her head beyond the next cube.

  Fresh meat? My radar was immediately up and tuning in to nearby conversations. Our open-plan, cube-divided office space was such that you could pick it up or tune it out at will. “Where?”

  “Three cubes thataway. New IT bloke designated to our floor.” A smug, knowing smile lifted her mouth as she turned back to her PC.

  I didn’t bother to hide my curiosity; Belinda had known me for five years. Geeky, intelligent guys really did it for me. I was busting to see this bloke and check out the fresh meat for myself. I ran my fingers through my hair and stood up, glancing casually across the cubes as I did so. I could see Dave Chatham, the IT manager for the whole building, talking to someone, but alas the other person was sitting down. A full-on reconnaissance mission was required. Snatching up the outgoing documents from my mail tray I shimmied my skirt straight, smoothing it over my hips, and headed out of our cube.

  Dave’s head swiveled as I approached and I smiled over the cube wall, my glance going to the other guy. He had shaggy, black hair, long to his neck and unruly. He wore glasses with thin black frames. Deliciously geeky. He’d made an effort with his appearance, but he was barely passable for a business environment. I could see the creases in his brand-new shirt. His tie wasn’t quite done up properly. Lean and uncomfortable as he appeared in his office clothes, my guess was he was fresh out of college. When I got to the entrance to his cube, I dropped my mail on the floor.

  Both Dave and the new guy turned to watch as I bent to retrieve the envelopes. The new guy was riveted. He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, revealing a wrist wound with thin, black leather twines—a bit of an alternative edge, perhaps? I had a sudden image of him playing guitar. As I stood up I rearranged my clothes and smiled over at the pair of them, apologizing for interrupting. That’s how I got my introduction.

  I soon learned more about Carl. He was single, fresh out of college as I had thought, and a real computer whiz in both software and hardware. He knew computer systems inside out and, apparently, what this bloke didn’t know about computer networks wasn’t worth knowing. That information came from the more explicit networking resource of the office—gossip.

  So I decided to go after him. No guarantees he would bite, but I was reasonably presentable and it sure as hell livens up the job trying. He was attractive in a subtle, bohemian way and the thought of getting to him turned me on. Part of it was the intelligence; part of it was the sexual thrill of coming on to him. It’s the look of shock, the complete look of awe that this type of man gives when presented with a dominant woman in his space.

  When I had the chance to chat with him by the coffee machine, I asked him if he would explain networking to me. “Just as a personal favor,” I added, smiling. Of course I knew about networking; I had a taste for this kind of man, after all. No, something about listening to a bloke speak enthusiastically on the virtues of his chosen field gets me sexually aroused.

  “Sure thing,” he replied. He looked surprised but launched into his area of expertise with ease. I listened to him talking about harnessing the individual power of an intelligent unit and realizing the power of teamwork in computer terms, and my body was humming. Between my thighs, I was getting hotter all the time. There’d been two other men like this in my life, a French exchange student I met at college who could talk about metaphysics all night long, and a guy I’d dated for a year while he talked about software design. Both were intense, intelligent men. Like Carl. Watching Carl’s green eyes flicker as he talked, I noticed how long his fingers were, wrapped around his coffee cup; how stark his cheekbones. I wanted to feed him. I wanted to fuck him.

  “At the present time, the ultimate network is the Internet,” he continued, “but who knows what the future holds.” His eyes glittered with enthusiasm.

  I set my coffee cup down and fanned myself lightly with the printed report in my hand.

  “Sorry,” he said, noticing me shifting from one foot to the other. “That’s a bit techni
cal and probably not what you meant.” He was definitely the kind of man I went for, geeky and not quite sure of himself outside his chosen field. I wanted to be the one to make him sure.

  “That’s exactly what I meant. Thanks Carl. I hope you don’t mind me asking, but do you play guitar?”

  He looked surprised. “Yes, how did you know?”

  I reached out and touched his fingers. “Your hands.” Electricity raced between us. The surface of the coffee in the cup he held rippled, tension beading up in it. “I hope we get to chat again soon, I enjoyed it.”

  “Yes, that would be good,” he said, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose with his free hand. I glanced back as I walked away and noticed that he was admiring my stacked heels. I made a mental note of that.

  I plotted my moves and waited until Belinda was away for a training day and I had the cube to myself. I’d planned in advance, wearing a low-cut top and short skirt, my highest heels and my sexiest underwear to give me confidence.

  His eyes nearly popped out of their sockets when I appeared at his cube wall. I rested my elbows on it, leaning my boobs on top of the ledge. “Hi, Carl. I hope I’m not interrupting. I’ve got a problem with my mouse.”

  I could tell he was trying desperately to prize his gaze away from my chest area. Smiling, I leaned further forward, my boobs spilling out of my top. “Do I have to fill in a form to get your attention?”