Dark Lust

by S. L. Carpenter

  Her clit throbbed with the beat of her heart. Fate had let them climax together. She had been right—this was a big one. Over and over, she felt her pussy constrict around her fingers. For the first time during a show, she had truly connected and experienced mutual pleasure with someone. It was rare, since they usually came after she stripped down to nothing. Sometimes after unfastening just the first button on her blouse.

  Daryl pried open his tightly shut eyes and placed his hand on the wall for balance. The entire glass in front of him was covered with dripping ooze. The cleaning lady would have one helluva time getting the streaks out of the glass. He sat down on the stool and began pulling his pants up.

  He peered through the blurry window, but his dream girl was gone.

  Saddened, he looked back to his belt and fastened his pants.

  “Tap, tap, tap…” The woman was tapping the window to get Daryl’s attention.

  He looked up, surprised, and smiled. She was saying something that he couldn’t really make out. As he unthinkingly wiped the glass to see clearer, a realization sizzled through his mind—I’m going to have to wash my hands in peroxide.

  The woman winked and mouthed the words “Meet me out front.” Her eyes stared soulfully into his and the depth of her beauty made Daryl stir again.

  She wrinkled her nose and smiled, then kissed the glass. She then surprised Daryl yet again by bending over, touching her toes, and pressing her ass and pussy against the window.

  Out of pure desperation, Daryl leaned forward and licked his side of the glass over her pussy lips.

  After sterilizing his hands and throwing up numerous times from the simple thought that he’d licked a pane of glass where numerous unknown men, including himself, had shot their seed, he was ready. Whoever said women liked the taste must have had a twisted sense of humor.

  Daryl walked back out through the small, darkened door of the row of businesses. Mayble’s neon sign had a light out—it read “MAYBE”.

  Things were looking up already.

  A cab pulled up and Cherry opened the door. “Want a ride to my house?”

  Stupid question.

  Sitting in the dark cab, the two of them kept gazing back and forth in an awkward state of nervousness. They had just shared something in public that most people don’t share in private. Mutual masturbation was a sin to most, but it was a natural release for two star-crossed and lonely people. Destiny was their only path.

  “We’re going to have to sneak in the back door. I live with my mom and she would really get upset if she knew I had a man in the house. I’m twenty-three, but I still answer to her.” She was tying her hair back into a bun in an attempt to look more conservative.

  “Okay. You are so beautiful. I can’t believe a woman like you could be interested in a man like me.”

  “Well, we all have to make a living. I do those shows and if I like someone I do more. Baby, we are going to do things you only dream of. I want to show you the way a woman should treat her man. With passion, desire and sex all night long.” She had a wicked smile and a cute laugh as she flirted with Daryl.

  “This is me. Let’s go.” She tossed the cab driver a few bills and they both hopped out of the cab.

  Standing in the darkness of night, Daryl looked down the street. He turned and looked down the other way.

  Cherry reached for his hand and pulled him towards the large Victorian style house.

  “Where are we going?” Daryl stared at the front of the beautiful house. “This house here?”

  “Yes, this is my house, I’ve lived here my whole life. Be quiet, okay?”

  “But…this is my house. I grew up here before I went off to the war ten years ago.”

  “Big brother Daryl?”

  “Little sis Cheryl?”

  The family dog barked loudly as the two of them screamed in horror.

  Phone Sex

  Sonovabitch! I am so fucking tired of these idiots calling and asking me stupid questions. I just want to go home, pour myself a glass of brandy, pull out my George Clooney fan magazine and fuck my twelve-inch oscillating vibrator.

  What’s that?

  The microphone is on?

  OH SHIT!

  AHEM, cough, cough, we’re back from commercials now. This is Love Talk, how can I help you?

  “Yeah, Laura, I guess I can call you Laura. My name is…uh…Richard, and I have a little problem. I have a rather small penis and it has become kind of embarrassing whenever I get intimate with women and they see it and, well, they start…laughing.”

  Do they ever point and squint as well?

  “Uh, no.”

  Listen up, Dick. Actually, I should call you little Dicky. I recommend you call Suzi’s sex shop and buy yourself an attachment. You know they come in different sizes, medium, large and Oh My God! You know the saying “Size doesn’t matter”? The problem with this saying is that a man made it up. I mean if my…er…hole was the size of the Grand Canyon, I wouldn’t want a smaller one. Last thing I’d want to hear in bed is an echo in my cootchie.

  And on to the next caller.

  Love Talk, Who am I talking to and how can I help?

  “Pant, slurp, drool, pant, pant, slobber, slobber, growl, slurp!”

  Now, Archie. I’ve told you about all the problems uncontrolled masturbation could cause. Not only the hairy palms, but also the fact that this constant yanking your chain will cause a nasty skin rash. It may also have other adverse effects. I told you the other day that you could make some money as a donor at the sperm bank. The only problem I foresee is you procreating. Imagine a world of whacking-off-compulsive-assholes running around. Scary, to say the least.

  “Yes Laura, I know. I’m sorry… I just can’t control it. I hear your voice on the radio. I picture you naked and…and…pant, drool, slobber, sorry to bother you again—I’ve got to go to the bathroom!”

  I’ll talk to you again tomorrow, I’m sure. What an asshole.

  Oh, sorry. Next caller.

  “Hi, Laura? My name is Stephanie and I’m a nineteen-year-old virgin.”

  Of course you are.

  “No really. My problem is that I’ve met this boy and we’ve been going out for a while and, well, I’ve been a little reluctant about sex or fellatio because I have no experience and wouldn’t want to be a disappointment to him.”

  I see. Soooooo…it’s a question of techniques and wanting to give him a good blowjob? I’m sure if you ask a guy, there are no bad blowjobs. Unless you have buckteeth and leave train track marks along the skin of his…ummm…penis. You know, I hate having to censor my words. Makes me sound stupid. I can call a male rooster a cock but can’t call a guy’s penis one. Go figure. Anyway, men are such pigs. They expect a woman to be a submissive virgin and a raging nymphomaniac both at the same time, the bastards. All they have to do is stick it in somewhere and they’re content. “Find me a hole”—that’s their motto.

  “Laura, are you okay?”

  Oh, sorry Stephanie. To answer your question, I want you to go to Suzi’s sex shop and rent Deep Throat and The Oral Zone. Keep practicing with that banana.

  What a ditz. We’ll be right back after this station break.

  * * * * *

  “A nineteen-year-old virgin? Talk about a rarity. She must be uglier than a dead cow. I tell ya, Cynthia, I need a good fuck. I sit here, night after night, listening to this and sometimes I need to just vent my frustrations. The next guy I decide to screw is going to be lit up like a fucking Christmas tree. Damn—commercial’s over. Just one last puff of this cigarette. Mmmmmm.”

  * * * * *

  We’re back. Thanks for joining us tonight. We’re almost at the end of the hour. Next caller?

  “Hello Laura, how are you?”

  Pretty good from what I’ve been told. What’s your question?

  “Well, for the past few years I’ve had a secret from my wife and…well, she caught me yesterday. I was standing in our bedroom looking at myself in the mirror wearing a wig,
a bra with oranges in it, her nicest mauve silk blouse and a flowery chiffon skirt with a pair of high-heeled pumps. I’m not gay or anything like that. I just like how the fabric feels against my skin. Especially the underwear.”

  What a sicko! Don’t you know you can’t wear pumps with chiffon? Are you mad? Chiffon is too light…you need strappy sandals to balance it. Good god, if you’re going to dress like a woman, don’t add insult to injury by dressing badly. Didn’t you ever watch Mrs. Doubtfire? I am so tired of these cross-dressing men, jealous of our clothes, and ruining the fashion sense women have. I mean if you’re going to walk the walk, the least you can do is dress the part right.

  Okay. Next caller.

  “Laura? Oh God, I hope you can help me.”

  Well, what’s wrong? And don’t cry, it makes you sound like a whimpering puppy dog on the air. It can’t be that bad.

  “My boyfriend and I were messing around. We were getting pretty hot and heavy and I told him I just couldn’t. He got all mad and called me a frigid tease. I offered to give him a hand job but he said either give it up or he’d be gone.”

  Good girl. How old are you?

  “I’m eighteen. The problem is, I was worried about it hurting. I mean, I’ve let him finger me and stuff but I was scared it might really hurt. So I…umm… I tried something.”

  Like what? An anal plug? A rim job? What?

  “Well, he was pouting in my room and I went to the bathroom and one thing led to another. I wanted to go back and do it, but I really wanted to make sure I could. So, I tried masturbating a little to get loosened up. You know, get really wet? So I used my coke bottle and now…uh…it’s stuck.”

  OH MY GOD. Talk about funny. I bet he’d get a kick out of that. Oh sorry. Hmm, this is touchy. Did it have any soda in it when you started?

  “Just a little to get it slippery. I’ve had it in there for about five minutes, and I keep pulling on it and it’s really deep inside. My opening is stretched wide and it rubs right against the bottle. I am so scared.”

  Just relax. Let’s see, if you’re lucky there was enough soda in it that if you stand on your head and wiggle around, you’ll get some gas going and a pussy burp will break the seal. On a serious note…you probably just need to relax and it will loosen by itself. Try rotating it.

  “Okay. Mmm…ohhh…it seems to be…mmm…oh man, those little bumps really make it…ohhhhh…mmm…mmm…it’s…rubbing right against my G-spot as I turn it…ahhh…”

  We’ll be right back after this short station break.

  * * * * *

  “Now relax. We’re off the air. Can you get it looser as you twist it?”

  “Mmm, oh, no, but…damn this feels wonderful.”

  “This is all I need. A soda bottle-shaped joy wand. Can you get it off?”

  “Oh fuck. No, but it sure as shit is getting me off. This is a twenty-ounce. Imagine what a two-liter feels like? Oh shit…ohhhhhh…Oh. My. God. I’m going to come.”

  * * * * *

  Okay, we’re back. Uh…we were talking to a woman about her soft drink problem.

  “Oh my…ahhhhhh, mmmm…yes, yes, oh right there, riiiiiiiiiiight… mmmmmm…aaaahhhhhhh.”

  POP

  Hello, caller? Helloooooo? Are you okay?

  “Oooooooh. Yeah, the bottle got off and so did I. Thanks for your help Laura. I’m going to go talk to my boyfriend and offer him a soda.”

  I have such sick callers. I hope she gives him a different bottle.

  Next caller, are you there?

  “I’m a little embarrassed at calling in but maybe you can help me.”

  Go for it. What’s up?

  “Um…I have a problem that I need your advice on.”

  Don’t tell me, let me guess. Premature ejaculation, you’re gay, you’ve got a small pecker, or you don’t know how to perform oral sex on a woman, or a man, maybe it’s just that you’re a frustrated asshole without a life so you call me to give you the answers to the pitiful sexual problems you have!

  “No, it’s nothing like that. Uh, I’ve had a problem for the past two days. It seems that I’ve had a persistent erection. It…it doesn’t matter where or when, it’s just always that way. I think it’s called priapism. I’ve made an appointment to see my doctor tomorrow morning but I was wondering if you could give me any advice?”

  I have a few questions. Please relax and answer them for me.

  Sir, what do you look like?

  “Hmm, this is awkward. I am about six-three, medium-build, I’d say around two hundred pounds or so. I have black hair and dark brown eyes. They’re almost black actually. I’m a furniture mover. “

  Aha, okay. Since this is a sex-talk show, let me ask you this. How long is it?

  “What? Do you mean IT?”

  Why yes. I’m a professional and I just want to make sure I’m picturing things correctly before giving any advice. I’m sure our listeners are interested also. Right, ladies?

  “Well. Let me grab a ruler real quick. Umm, about nine and a half inches from my abdomen to the tip. It’s a bit awkward because it just stays like this. I haven’t been able to lie on my stomach for two nights. Just on my back. It’s like sleeping in a pup tent. Sorry, stupid joke.”

  Hmm, interesting. So you sort of look like George Clooney. Two days, huh? Damn, it’s getting warm in this studio. I think this case will have to have a little personal one-on-one therapy. Maybe some oils, a little massage… Deep, penetrating massage…uh…whew. Sorry, got a little flustered there.

  Give my secretary your address and phone number and I’ll be right over after the show to do something with…I mean for…you.

  Oh, hell, I’ll be right over. This is Laura getting…I mean signing…off for Love Talk.

  Ciao!

  The Animal Instinct

  The evening was cool and the sky was deep blue, a colored vignette darkening as time went by on the long drive.

  Joe glanced over to Jasmine sleeping in the passenger seat. She was so content and exhausted from the stress of work. They had decided to take a weekend retreat to the woods and spend some time in a cabin lent to them by their friend, Ron.

  They’d had to work late, of course, and since Jasmine had an earlier start she was totally worn out from her day.

  It was midnight when they arrived at the cabin and walked in to find it very quaint with a nice warm feel—perfect for a romantic weekend. No phones, no fax machines, no computers, no Internet access, and, to Joe’s dismay, no television for the playoff games.

  Joe told Jasmine he’d get the bags, and fetched his one duffel bag along with the five suitcases Jasmine had packed. In typical male fashion, Joe was hungry—hungry for sex, and to release his pent-up carnal desires. It was, after all, what their weekend was about.

  But when he walked into the bedroom nook where Jasmine had disappeared, Joe saw her cuddled up on the bed wearing his T-shirt and sleeping quietly. He didn’t have the heart to wake her.

  He climbed into bed with her and held her tight, letting her snuggle against his warmth. He adjusted his hard-on so she wouldn’t get poked in the backside. They both slept in the quiet and darkened room, with the only light coming from the full moon rising behind the trees and shining through the windows.

  * * * * *

  A few hours later, Jasmine woke up, not sure for a minute where she was. Then she remembered.

  She climbed out of bed and stood in the room, illuminated by the glowing moon now high in the sky. The light was breathtaking, and Jasmine stripped off Joe’s T-shirt to take a moonbeam bath. It cascaded over her features, from the curves of her breasts to the indention of the muscles in her legs. She stared into the night then went and opened the door to get a look at the lake glittering in the moonlight. The cool breeze blew against her naked flesh, chilling her. Her hair swayed and she breathed deeply, letting her chest arch forward and the tips of her nipples stand proudly away from her breasts.

  The moon’s reflection was painted on the still lake and shimme
red slightly as the breeze raced across it. The wind carried a mist that splashed on Jasmine’s body.

  Joe awoke and looked across the bed seeing her standing there, eyes closed, looking like an angel. The night air chilled the room and Joe decided to join her.

  Tiptoeing across the cold floor, he looked out the door and saw the beautiful skyline. Then his eyes looked at Jasmine’s back. The silhouetted outline of her body was so sensual. The way her ass curved and the light showed through the small space between her legs accentuating the lips of her pussy and shimmering on her pubic hair.

  “Isn’t it lovely, Joe?” she said quietly.

  “You sure are, Jasmine,” he snickered back.

  “I meant the night sky, you screwball.”

  Grabbing a blanket from the recliner Joe threw it around his back and wrapped his arms around Jasmine. His penis fell limp along the crease of her perfect teardrop-shaped ass.

  “Must be cold in here…things have some shrinkage.” Jasmine giggled.

  Joe pinched her ass making her shriek. His hands reached forward and he cupped her breasts. The wind raced through the door again, making Jasmine close her eyes and lean into Joe’s body.

  As he kissed her ear and neck she reached her arm up to him, exposing her skin to the cold air and letting goose bumps trace along her flesh. He felt them as he grasped harder on her breast and pulled gently on the nipple between his fingers.

  Jasmine’s mouth opened as he kissed the side of her face, searching, seeking his in return. He could feel himself rising against her ass as he moved his hand to her abdomen and pulled her torso against his. Her hair fell forward along her face as she leaned over. Joe kept kissing her back as she stepped into the doorway holding the frame with her hands. The air was cold but their bodies were hot from the passion of the moment.

  Joe grabbed at her, trying to pull her from the door to the bed but she refused. “I don’t want to go anywhere. This is so perfect.” She spoke as if she was in a fantasy come true.

  Not one to want to ruin a mood like this, Joe obliged by coming up behind her. He knelt down and brought his hand up between her legs. Pulling back against her tummy, he kissed the cheek of her ass. She leaned forward, moaning deeply as if telling him he was moving in the right direction.