by Violet Blue
Tonight I feel ready for strength, for lashings of hardness and animal lust. I love butt-fucking because it makes me feel wanton and depraved, like a slut with no time for common decencies. For a short space of time I become a woman far removed from the everyday, a lustful goddess who will do anything and say anything to get what she wants.
My butt feels incredibly flexible, like I could be fucked by a fence post. When Stephan removes the butt plug I’m more than ready for his cock. Even so, the thick bulbous head feels enormous against my asshole. He holds there for a second, just touching me, and I feel ready to explode. I want it, and I want it now. The vibe continues its work as he gently pushes his cock into me, slick skin inching slowly past my willing muscles. I groan as I feel him slide into me, pushing the shaft home. I can feel everything—and it feels wonderful.
Slowly the fucking begins, a gentle rhythm of relentless pleasure, Stephan gripping my hips as his moves his piston cock in and out of my flesh with a sureness that I adore.
“Please,” I whimper. “Harder.”
He obeys, increasing his speed inexorably. I grind the vibe into my clit, awash with glorious pleasure, emitting deep, animalistic grunts with each thrust of his cock. I’m lost now, a slave to my growing orgasm, impossibly aware of every nerve and every rippling tide of joy.
And he’s there with me, urging me along, sharing in the moment and the delight of it all. We’re joined in every way, he and I, like lost souls sanctified at a depraved communion, made pure by reptilian lust. I can’t think of anywhere else I’d rather be than here, right now, with Stephan’s cock plunging in and out of my asshole.
I come. The orgasm arrives and overwhelms every sense and every emotion. A point of shimmering, white light appears before my closed eyes, a beacon of pure pleasure illuminating my brain as the waves of ecstasy spread out from my cunt and my ass. I scream, I shake, and I ride the climax to its last quiver.
Stephan is seconds behind me. My clenching ass milks him dry and he shudders against me, low gasps punctuating each breath.
We cuddle together on the bed, exhausted but utterly satiated.
“Happy anniversary,” Stephan says eventually, and I kiss him and hold him tight.
“I’m so glad I found you,” I say, putting a lifetime of longing and love into my embrace.
And then I get up and put on my robe.
“Where are you going?” Stephan asks.
“I’m hungry,” I say. “And my blue cheese pasta is too good to waste.”
CARDIO
Elisa Garcia
I am mesmerized by Pablo’s hips.
And abs.
And thighs.
And tight, tight ass.
But nothing compares to those sinuous hips shaking fluidly, sensually, hypnotically side to side in front of me.
Salsa beats blare through the studio, and the dozen or so women flanking me seem every bit as entranced as I am watching Pablo. Together we stare as, toes perfectly pointed, he executes a rapid jump-kick combo the likes of which I’ve never seen outside a Miami club. Sweat streams down his back. His thin nylon shirt clings to the hollow above that perfect round ass. He sways and then lunges, bronzed and rippling arms lashing through the air.
“One two three step! Knees bent, you has to bend your knees!” he intones, scrambling the tenses in his charming Colombian accent. I try to follow him, try to match my own kicks and spread-eagle lunges to his frenetic pace, but it is all I can do not to faint from the heat.
Pablo is the salsa/Latin fusion cardio instructor at the exclusive and overly priced gym I joined four months ago during a free trial promo. This was in January, when everyone is full of resolutions. Mine was to lose twenty pounds, though I had already dropped thirty the preceding summer during a hellish breakup with Ben, my ex-fiancé. And then I saw Pablo. Needless to say, it was he who cemented my membership the moment he sprinted onstage during that first preview session. I haven’t missed a Saturday morning class since—not that it has proven difficult. Since the breakup, I’ve gone on only three dates, all of them disastrous. And with zero prospects on the horizon, finding a healthy way to release the enormous energy reserves I carry from lack of sex seems paramount.
Sure, I use a vibrator—almost nightly, in fact. I’m a liberated woman, totally unashamed to own an online porn subscription and a drawer full of sex videos.
But it’s not enough. And seeing Pablo every Saturday thrusting those hips in his loose, sexy running pants only magnifies it. I get wet looking at him. I know it’s not just sweat, though anyone would be hard pressed to find a more demanding cardio class. Thanks in large part to Pablo, I did lose those twenty pounds, and for the first time ever I feel way confident about my body. So the irony of the fact that I am currently single and sexless is not lost.
So, here I was again on another beautiful, balmy Saturday morning. Today’s class had been no different than usual; a brief warm-up followed by sixty achingly exquisite minutes of kinetically charged merengue and cumbia. As usual, I imagined Pablo dancing the samba naked in my apartment while I tried keeping up with his cha-cha-cha. Nothing new.
Sweaty and spent, I was already looking forward to showering and getting myself off at home as I exited the studio—so I was surprised when I felt a hand brush my lower back just before the door closed. I was shocked when I turned and saw Pablo.
Grinning, he extended his arms and beckoned me to do the same. Vaguely, I heard the opening riffs of a fast Cuban salsa. Ah, so he wanted to dance.
I looked around. A couple of ladies shot me envious glances as they left, but no one was watching otherwise.
Nervously I took his hands. They were firm and confident, used to leading. I hadn’t salsa’d in nearly seven years; a dance-and fitness-phobe, Ben couldn’t sway his hips to save his life. So I was surprised at how quickly we fell in sync, how quickly my body remembered the rhythms, like riding the proverbial bicycle.
“You’re very good,” said Pablo, even white teeth flashing in his chiseled brown face as he turned me, hips rotating at an impossibly obscene angle.
“Thanks,” I responded, heart pounding. I tried not to fall in a puddle of mush at his feet. I felt dizzy from his scent, a blend of light cologne and man-smell. Silently I thanked myself for spritzing on a last-minute body spray this morning.
“I’m not surprised,” he continued with his Spanish lilt, not missing a beat. “You always do so good in class.”
This was the most we’d ever interacted. Pablo and I routinely exchanged smiles, had even once introduced ourselves when he helped me in the middle of class with a particularly challenging sequence. But now here he was before me, hips swiveling dangerously close to mine. I couldn’t help but notice the faint outline of a sizable bulge through his pants. My nipples stood reflexively erect under my sports bra top. My panties were saturated.
The music stopped.
“Gracias.” Pablo whispered. “That was nice.”
Graciously, slowly, he released me. Wordlessly I smiled and backed up to leave. I tried to appear confident, like I was the kind of woman used to dancing with hot Latin men every weekend. The studio was empty, though I could see a throng of people begining to crowd the hall, ostensibly waiting for our class to end. My running shoes scraped the floor as I half-walked, half-waded to the door. Once again, I felt his hand brush my back. Only this time it lingered.
“Christina,” he said in Spanish, trilling the r. “Come.”
Kickboxing was scheduled to begin in five minutes. Silently I followed him to the back of the studio and through an employee exit into an adjoining small room, one of the gym’s private personal training spaces. The throng entered the studio as we stepped in. Windows flanking the front wall overlooked the now vacant hall.
Pablo closed the door and ushered me in, fingers lightly trailing my arm. Breathless, I shivered as he gently encircled my waist and drew me into his muscled chest. My face rested level with the hollow of his neck. I closed my eyes and inhaled his
scent, which was like a warm forest, and then tilted my face, lips parted, to his.
Neither of us moved as his chocolate eyes seared mine, fire versus water.
His full mouth met mine. We kissed slowly, almost hesitantly, for a minute before something unleashed. My back arched involuntarily. My breasts pressed hard against his body, our tongues urgently and insistently intertwined. All shyness vanished as he half-led, half-pushed me to a small desk set against the back wall.
Quickly I sat on its surface, legs open, and breathed heavily as Pablo moved in between them, his cut body against mine. I felt his hard dick through his pants as he kissed me, and my pussy unloaded another torrent of moisture. I threw my head back, unable to stop shaking as Pablo trailed his fingers through my long hair. My headband fell to the floor, and my ponytail tumbled loose as he nibbled and then bit my neck, hot breath on my skin. His hands, used to leading, rubbed my hips and then traveled upward to my breasts, cupping and kneading them through my bra as my own fingers stroked the black curls resting on the back of his neck. They felt surprisingly silky.
I lifted my arms as Pablo removed my bra. My swollen and aching breasts came free as I clawed at his shirt until it fell away, revealing taut, broad pecs. He took one finger and lightly, slowly traced it around my nipple, smiling. Teasing. His pink lips curved upward, and for the first time I noticed how enviably long his eyelashes were. Tension built inside me to the point of bursting, to the point where I couldn’t endure it, and I pulled his head into my breasts. He licked them greedily, sucking hard at my nipples, taking them gently between his teeth, alternating between one and the other. I shuddered and tugged at his waistband, hand brushing the dark hairy line extending downward from his navel. The fleshy tip of his head peeked out from his white briefs, radiating heat to the touch. I moaned, longing to suck it, longing to ram it inside me. It had been too long since I’d felt a real dick up my pussy, too long since I’d slurped on a rock-hard head. My other hand rubbed his steely asscheeks.
I couldn’t stand it.
On the far side of the room lay a stack of red gym mats. With a heady exhalation I extricated myself from Pablo, legs and arms akimbo. I threw a mat on the floor and took off my shorts and dripping panties. I lay on the mat, elbows propped up, knees spread wide, offering up my snatch. I was thankful that I’d waxed.
“Take me,” I said.
Pablo stood before me, eyes drinking me in, tongue flicking across his lips as he studied my vulva. Ever so s-l-o-w-l-y he hooked his thumbs in his pants and pulled them down along with his briefs. His long brown cock, uncircumcised, tilted erectly to the side, toward a slim hip. Those hips.
He knelt.
I expected him, wanted him, needed him, to enter me. Instead he cradled both of my knees and lay on his stomach, face inches from my pussy. I could smell myself, could smell the musky odor that meant I’d been too long without sex, too long without orgasm. I pinched my nipples, body aching to come.
Pablo buried his tongue between my pussy lips and then retreated. Agony. I saw a thin sticky line of glistening wetness, come, extend from my pussy to his mouth. He swallowed it and, exhaling, bent once more into my pussy. I felt him touch the tip of his tongue to my clit and I almost exploded. Again he retreated and looked up at me, brown eyes teasing, desire clouding them. One of his hands slid up to my breast, covering my fingers. Again he buried his face in my pussy, only this time with an intensity I had not yet seen. I couldn’t help but moan as then, and only then, he began to really eat my pussy. His tongue lapped in between my lips, up and down, from the bottom near my ass to my engorged clit, over and over until I nearly came, gushing wetness into his mouth. I have always ejaculated, and always felt a little self-conscious about it as most men tend to freak out a little. But Pablo literally ate it up. I watched his head bob up and down, watched his face move side to side as he closed his eyes and fucked me with his tongue, hands now squeezing my asscheeks as I pumped my hips into his face, covering him with sticky sweet juice. Pablo burrowed harder, deeper, and placed my entire swollen pink clit firmly in his mouth, groaning all the while. More wetness. Clear liquid juices ran down his jaws onto my ass and onto the mat as he sucked and devoured my pussy.
That’s when I closed my legs around his neck and, back arched to the ceiling, came in a series of waves. Wave after crushing tidal wave consumed me, overpoweringly relentless. Pablo’s knuckles turned white as he held me down, holding my hips to the floor as he continued to eat my pussy while I came, sucking and slurping and swallowing, his tongue thrusting to my G-spot, nose buried in my thin racing strip of pubic hair. That’s when I came again, harder and more powerful than before, into his open and waiting mouth.
I screamed and saw only blinding whiteness.
My fingers clutched at his hair. My legs felt like jelly.
I fell wholly on the map, gasping and panting as Pablo sat up. His face shone. He smiled.
“Is good?”
“God, yes,” I managed to say, still breathless.
We remained that way momentarily, me quivering, him outlining the contours of my body with his strong, now sticky wet, hands. From the corner of my eye I saw his cock. It was still hard, a darkish and swollen blue-brown. Veins ran along the shaft and culminated at his reddish, throbbing head. Drops of white precome shone at the tip even as more oozed from his hole.
No way in hell were we finished.
In a flash I sat up and straddled him, one hand flanking the shaft, the other massaging the base. Pablo’s coarse pubes were black and neatly trimmed. He grunted as I masturbated him, slowly at first, then with building speed. His hips, those hips that I’d spent four months ogling while he danced salsa, jerked rhythmically up and down with my hands. This time he lay on the slippery mat, writhing and staring at me as I hovered over his pelvis and jerked him off, my pussy centimeters from his cock.
I was still wet.
I took one hand and slipped it in my pussy as, still straddling him, I rubbed my clit. My other hand squeezed his massive balls.
Suddenly he stopped and rose.
I watched, frustrated, as Pablo crossed the room to his pants lying on the floor and retrieved a wallet. Quickly, expertly, he pulled out and put on a condom…a good thing, since I hadn’t been on the pill in a very long time. I rubbed my clit harder, fully expecting him to rejoin me on the mat so that I could ride him to oblivion.
But he didn’t. Instead I saw him enter the room’s small storage closet and emerge with a giant blue medicine ball, the kind used in the gym’s yoga classes.
Wordlessly he placed the ball in front of me and helped me stand.
Then he turned me around and bent me over the ball, then immediately spread my legs and entered me from behind.
Bliss.
We fucked for a long time. In, out, in, out, over and over, for what seemed like a beautiful eternity. His cock fit perfectly, filling me entirely and hitting my G-spot every time he thrust, balls slapping the back of my pussy. Wet slurps and sounds filled the hot room. My breasts bounced and jiggled, nipples hitting the blue rubber every time Pablo pulled me back toward him. His fingers dug into my asscheeks, burning and hurting but incredible.
At one point Pablo pulled my hair, throwing my head back. It was then that I noticed we were positioned directly in front of the room’s main window. Somewhere in the distance I heard voices and the thumps of kickboxing in the adjoining studio.
Always shy, suddenly I didn’t care.
“Pull it hard, baby. Please,” I begged.
Pablo clutched my hair harder. I bucked against him, wet ass and pussy now completely enveloping his rock-hard cock as it rubbed my G-spot. I came again, harder than before. Wet trails fell from my pussy lips onto the base of his cock.
Finally he exploded. I felt Pablo jerk and then release. My stomach slid off the ball as he went momentarily limp. I felt heat through the condom and knew he’d come hard, too. Easily, languidly I moved my ass around, his cock still firmly lodged within me even as
he slumped over my back, hands resting on my breasts. Slowly he released himself.
That’s when we fell, exhausted, onto the soaked mat, panting heavily and sweating. Silence and the smell of sex hovered in the private training room. Dimly I heard more voices and footsteps emanating from the studio. The kickboxing class was over.
Instead of getting up, I turned over to Pablo, now lying calmly on the mat beside me. He was glistening. Beautiful. He turned on his hip and faced me, gorgeous eyes searching mine. That’s when I curled up in his arms, unmindful and uncaring of the fact that at any moment a throng of kickboxers, or at least one eager student seeking private training, might walk right by. I buried my head in his chest and inhaled his smell, my smell. I closed my eyes and sighed, spent from the best, most personalized workout I’d ever experienced.
SWITCH
Vanessa Vaughn
Dana pulled into the driveway slowly, her car’s engine purring. Shifting into PARK, she grabbed her morning coffee mug from the cup holder and her briefcase from the backseat. She opened the door and stood for a moment, taking a deep breath and stretching her back. It had been a long day, but she was home now.
She saw two boys riding by on bicycles. “Hello, Mrs. Loper,” they called.
She waved in their direction, smiling but exhausted. “Hello, boys.”
Dana kicked the car door closed with a high heel, fumbling with her keys as she approached the front door. She pushed it open.
“Honey, I’m home,” she cooed as she strode inside.
“In here, babe,” came a muffled voice from the next room.
So he was already there. Good.
She sat down her briefcase and keys, picking up the mail by the front door. She sorted through a few envelopes and looked them over before kicking off her shoes and picking them up. In her stocking feet, she padded silently toward the bedroom, her heels dangling casually off of two fingers. She walked down the familiar hallway, and then opened the door. Michael looked in her direction as she entered. He stood at the closet, pulling off his tie. “How was your day?” he asked, hanging his tie up on the rack.