The Mammoth Book of Best New Erotica 10

by Maxim Jakubowski

  There are orgasms, and then there are orgasms. The most usual kinds are the ones that after a certain period of stroking and love-making you yourself have. They work fine, though they are expectable and to some extent unexceptional. And then there are the other orgasms, the ones you don’t have, the ones that suddenly sneak up and have you. This was one of those orgasms.

  I was totally in the power of this goddess-demon who showed no sign of relenting or relinquishing her control over me. If anything, her passion had grown even stronger, and I felt the warning signs from between my legs as her massage grew ever more powerful.

  I did my best to chant internally a Taoist formula I’d learned from a Taiji master. It was aimed at stopping the flow of sperm, but in this case it didn’t seem to help at all. I suddenly felt as if there were two of me, one my normal self, but another full identity inhabiting my penis.

  I personally was doing my best to hold back my seed, but then suddenly that other version of me inside my penis felt himself overwhelmed and thrown into violent eruption. These two identities were writhing and pulsating and spasming together, and the combined force passed from my penis into me and up through my body and into my face, where it effortlessly passed over into my goddess-demon-tormentor. Bossetta was perfectly aware of how I felt and simply let my crisis run its course, as that other part of me spewed gobs of my manhood on to her back.

  She waited until my final vibrations had settled and then summoned her own forces, which soon more than equaled mine. She set herself in cataclysmic motion, bouncing almost chaotically and coming down on me even more heavily than before. It was as if she had entered into her own climactic battle with whatever goddess ruled over her. She rubbed, she ground, she groped all over my face, finally settling on my chin. Then her complexion reddened, and a change came over her. At last she simply moved back and forth three or four times, and my face was awash with her juices, thick, sweet, and musky. I quickly swallowed those closest to my mouth and felt her hand come down to gather some for herself.

  I reached behind her back and brought back some of my own fluids and fed them to both of us. For a short while we were like innocent hedonists feasting on love’s ambrosia.

  During that time there was total peace and understanding between us.

  Bossetta moved back on to my shoulders, and when it was all finally over, she looked down at me and summed up our situation from her point of view. “You are my conquest.”

  She sounded both arrogant and sincere, as though she really meant it. I simply nodded in agreement. To make her point even more obvious, she moved her haunches forward again, and our two sets of lips met in a perpendicular kiss. Yes, it was a sensuous kiss, but it was also a delicate kiss of greeting and recognition.

  “My conquest …” she repeated.

  I couldn’t deny that she had a point, one that I was in no position to dispute. She had made prolonged and passionate love to me in a manner I had never known before. At a time entirely of her own choosing, she had forced from me the strongest and wildest orgasm I have ever lived through, tempting me beyond my most ecstatic dreams.

  It was almost as if she had ripped it out of me, and I was still reeling now that it was over. I felt so totally sated that I wondered how long it would take before I could show her my way of making love as well. And she had totally confirmed her conquest with a long, powerful orgasm of her own that still covered my features. Its power was still alive in both of us. Yes, I still wanted to take her from behind, but I knew it would have to wait a while. After all, the evening was young. I felt perfectly happy with everything that had happened between us and bore no trace of resentment.

  Her skills were simply too undeniable to allow any anger, and her everyday reality was beyond all doubting. We had enjoyed a kind of contest together, and the results were clear. I had come in with my game plan, she had come in with hers, and there could not be the slightest doubt that her game plan had totally demolished mine.

  I couldn’t believe what we had just done together. But the evidence was all too palpably present, after our kiss her whole set of lips was still settled over my mouth and chin.

  Gradually we separated and began to fondle each other more calmly. I kissed her gently all around her body, and we tasted each other’s juices a second time.

  In between these moist exchanges we gazed at each other in joy and disbelief, amazed at how much we had experienced together. We started to giggle uncontrollably and would break one embrace only to begin another. This degenerated into a mock wrestling match, which, ever the gentleman, I let her end by pinning me down on the bed.

  “Okay, we’ve done it my way,” she volunteered. “You just go ahead – take me any way you want.”

  It almost sounded like a dare, as if she challenged me to equal her in her passion and inventiveness.

  We wrestled around for a long time before we looked at the clock and found it was already two in the morning. She mentioned something about having to be up early the next morning.

  “Look, I don’t feel sleepy,” I said.

  “I don’t either,” she replied, “but we’ve got to get some rest.”

  During this time all of her bossiness had disappeared. She was so totally sated that she felt no need for it. And she treated me as though I were some kind of furry animal she truly loved for helping her to be so happy.

  We wrestled and fooled around for most of another hour, with neither of us feeling aroused enough for another round of sex. After all, we had both mightily exerted ourselves.

  But we weren’t ready for sleep either – we were much too excited for that. And I still harbored my own desire, though my body gave me no sign this was possible.

  At length we made ourselves lie down, as we tried to force ourselves asleep, but that didn’t work either.

  “Look,” she said in the midst of laughter, “I know a way to make us fall asleep.”

  I dared her to show me.

  Once more she jumped on top and this time it was her breasts she brought to bear on my face. She pressed down and kept on pressing, until I thought I would pass out. But suddenly she changed tactics, and I felt sudden hard blows against my face, waking me back up again.

  This time she was no longer suffocating me but pummeling my face with her breasts. They were more than heavy enough, and I knew that if she went on too long, she might well knock me out. I felt this was a cruel way of sending me to sleep, but before I could object, she changed tactics again and began to use her breasts in the way women best employ them, to massage and soothe and comfort my face.

  This time I felt she had it just right, but before I could doze off, she went back to smothering me again. And then to pummeling, and finally back to comforting. She even started over a third time – smothering, pummeling, comforting, and, as she reached the comfort stage, I thought it must be over as we were both by now truly tired.

  I was just about to doze off, but to my surprise, she started in on a fourth round of smothering. It didn’t last long – it ended when I felt her erupt into a sharp shudder that left us both a bit shaken. Now at last we were both truly ready to sleep and, as we curled up in each other’s arms, I couldn’t help wondering if that shudder of hers had been some other kind of orgasm, one I had never seen before.

  “Hey, you really do own me …” I remember muttering just before I dozed off.

  When two lovers sleep through the night together, all kinds of things can go on that they may not recall the next morning. I remember them pretty clearly, simply because this entire encounter was so remarkable in so many ways. I know that we remained cuddled together all night long and that even though we needed our sleep, our bodies were still wildly attracted to each other.

  Of course there were also dreams, reminiscences of our recent passion, at least once reenacting the precise sequence of her movements that decisively defeated me. Even today in my mind’s eye I can recall that series of strokes, twists, and fingerwork that turned my lower body into a human juice
machine.

  All night long our arms and legs remained linked and our faces were often touching. Most clearly I remember that the head of my cock spent almost the entire night right inside the vestibule of her passage. And sometimes it tried to peek further in, only to be gently prodded away.

  After all, we needed our sleep more than passion. But I recall for a certainty that during that night, though we did not make love again, we were as close as lovers ever can be.

  On one occasion, about an hour before dawn, I almost woke because I was getting hard, but this time she resisted even more fervently. Once again sleep trumped sex. And I also remember thinking, Oh, well, nail her in the morning, just as I fell off again.

  It was she who woke me that morning with the noise of a TV news program. As soon as she saw me moving, she turned it off. I had trouble focusing my eyes, but I could see that she was standing stark naked by the TV, and just as desirable as ever.

  I think I was still half-dozing, while she rattled on in the background about how she had to have breakfast with another girl from her firm before they both flew back to LA together. This meant she would have to return to her room and change clothes, because she couldn’t possibly come to breakfast looking the way she had in the bar last night. I was still sleep-logged and couldn’t absorb it all.

  “Please don’t go,” I blurted out.

  “I’m not going anywhere,” she replied, coming right up to the bed. “I have no intention of going. I’m not leaving until I’ve taken you again …”

  She wasn’t joking at all. She stood next to me, right above me, and her voice was at its bossiest. In one motion she jumped back into bed and landed on top of me again. Needless to say I began to wake up, but she had taken me by surprise, and there was no way I could stop her from what she was already doing.

  Out came her lube tube, squish went a large glob all over my face, and there it was again, looming downward towards my nose, irresistible but maybe just slightly menacing, her whole passionate center throbbing as it moved to engulf me. She had fully and truly mounted me again, and when I looked up I saw how useless any resistance would be.

  This time, she didn’t even ask my permission. She simply took charge of me as though I were her property. I felt a bit resentful, since this meant any hopes I had of taking her were null and void.

  I found it infuriating … well, not quite. As soon as her vulva settled on my face and began its teasing massage, all my objections fell away, and I happily settled into her enticing rhythm. She was busy humping away at my nose and chin as though they belonged to her.

  Well, after all, I reasoned, she had once again taken me fair and square, if a bit unexpectedly. I had to give her credit for that. She had allowed me several hours to do things my way, and I had done nothing. She had every right to take command again.

  Then it suddenly hit me what she was doing, and a touch of resentment came back to the fore.

  This was nothing else but the classic finale to a one-night stand: the early morning good-bye fuck. Except it was her pussy fucking my face again instead of the way I really wanted.

  Once again her taste and smell were overpowering, and she had me perfectly pinned beneath her. Her rhythm was positively enticing, and I realized that I was for the second time succumbing to the sheer force of her sensuality. There was no doubt that her mood towards me had changed. Yesterday I was an interesting experiment for her. Today I was just meat. She had somehow downgraded me from her favorite sexual partner to little more than a slut. And at least some part of me seemed to be accepting this role. This time she didn’t bother with any explanations or apologies. She was in complete control, and she knew it.

  She was coming down on me even harder than the first time, and she was cutting off my breath even more completely. I could feel her juices coursing within her, and I knew she could let them loose on me at any moment. Amazingly, it hit me that I actually felt eager to receive them. But I also soon realized that she was taking her time, that she wanted to make our final encounter last as long as possible, mainly for her, incidentally for me.

  She now said something aloud that confirmed this perfectly: “Oh, I’m having you, I’m taking you, I’m using you …’

  In any contest there are times when the loser begins to identify – or at least sympathize – with his winning opponent. After all, that opponent is doing precisely what the loser would like to be doing to the winner. It must have been this, or perhaps it was just everything added together – her taste and scent, my reduced ability to breathe, her pressure upon me – that sent me off once again into a fantasy world.

  Except I didn’t believe it was fantasy. I was suddenly certain that I had become one with her, that I could hear her thoughts as she had her way with me, that I was actually inside her head listening to those thoughts … And I was absolutely certain they went something like this …

  “… Oh, now I’ve really got him, this is just fabulous, he’s so easy to take, and I’m handling him just right, he’s totally my prey, my absolute victim, he’s never been made love to like this, he’s never come this close to a girl’s pussy before, the poor bastard … he just doesn’t know how to deal with it … anyway I’m the one who’s helping him, who’s busy deflowering him … And I’m really being quite gentle about it, I’m doing my very best to make it all perfect for him, I mean, sure, I’m going to let it all shoot loose soon, but only when I’m good and ready … oh my god, I’m getting too close, gotta pull back, it almost got me too excited … can’t let that happen … build it up slowly again … yes, that’s it … WOW! I am really using this guy, but I don’t feel the least bit guilty about it … should I feel guilty? hell, no! … he’s loving every minute of it … it’s the best time he’s ever had in his life … so I’m going to just go on using him … I’m even raping him a little, I jumped him before he was ready, maybe I even raped his cock yesterday, but what the hell, what’s the point of knowing how to do all this if I can’t use it to fuck a guy’s brains out … anyway he’s happy I’m raping him, just look how much he’s enjoying it … oh god, I’m coming too close again … oh, that feels so GOOD! … oh yeah … what the hell, gotta do it some time, HERE WE GO …!!!”

  And at that exact point her whole body started to vibrate, her sexual regions began to churn and contract and release. She had so totally taken over my mind that I was cheering her on. It seemed nothing less than glorious when she lunged at me with all her force five or six times, and my face was once again drenched with her fluids …

  She rocked back and forth over my face a number of times before she finally came to rest. She pulled herself back to glance down at me, but this time there was no real ceremony. She had taken me, just as she had promised she would, and that was that. She playfully tweaked my nose with her fingers and arose from me with a “mission accomplished” air.

  “Hey, you are one great piece of face. I’ve got to take a shower.” She uttered both sentences in the same tone of voice. And she again mentioned having to meet her office colleague for breakfast before flying home.

  She went into the bathroom, and I heard her turn on the shower.

  For the first time since last night I was actually alone in the room, and this seemed to prompt all the misgivings I had been hiding, even from myself. Yes, she was truly gifted as a lover, I reflected. And yes, over the last ten hours she had shown me a whole new domain of sexuality, one I had never known existed. And yes, it was utterly genuine, as intense as any sexual pleasure I had ever enjoyed. I would certainly want to go on enjoying such pleasure in the future. And this is where I foresaw a real problem …

  Now that our encounter was almost over, I found myself wondering how on earth I would ever be able to enjoy this kind of loving again. And with whom. This was a remarkably new way of enjoying sex, something I knew I would never be able to achieve with my wife. There was no way I could hope to teach her, I wouldn’t even know where to begin.

  How could I ever find another girl like Bosset
ta? If I wanted to go on making love like this, I would have to bring about some important changes in my lifestyle, perhaps frequenting darkened East Village haunts or posting suggestive ads on weird websites. But if I did this, I wondered how long my marriage would survive …

  I was also still unhappy that I had not been able to finish our session the way I wanted. In our short remaining time, how could I ever convey to her my deepest desire? That I needed to see her before me on her hands and knees, her bottom arching high as the clouds, while I gleefully rammed her buttocks into the sunset.

  There had to be a way I could do this. Hell, now I was really getting angry! She promised me I could do it my way. And then she jumped me in the morning before I was ready! Damn it, she has to keep her word!

  But how could I persuade her? Calling me her conquest was an understatement – she’d scored several direct hits and totally demolished me. She’d taken the lead at every point, claiming my face twice and ravishing my cock, not to mention her strange assault with her breasts. But she had clearly broken the rules, she had gone too far. What I had trouble understanding was why I found so much of what she had done positively exciting and all of it remarkable.

  But she still owes me something, I concluded, she has to do it my way too! Anyway, there’s no reason any of this has to end now. We can stay a whole other day, even two more days if we feel like it, I could call in sick, and so could she, we could change flights … no, this doesn’t have to end now at all!

  I got out of bed and went to the bathroom door. It was open just a crack, and I could see her form behind the glazed wall of the shower. Should I just go in now and tell her? No, it would be more polite to wait until she came out. In later days I would have reason to regret this decision, I would even become almost certain that if only I had gone into the shower and accosted her naked, it would all have ended differently. When she finally came out, I realized in a flash that I didn’t have a chance.