I felt the sensation throughout my body. Pain, yes. But excitement, too. They might get too tight over time but for the moment I was all right with it.
“Okay, lie on the table, facedown.”
When I was as comfortable as I was going to get, with the nipple clamps beneath me, I told Scott I was ready, and he fastened the free end of each of the four sets of handcuffs to the legs of the table. “I was afraid the hardware underneath you would be uncomfortable in a bad way so I brought a pillow.” He lifted my chest and butt and slid a thick foam cushion beneath my pubis. It had the effect of letting my breasts hang slightly and lessened the discomfort of the equipment beneath me. “And, of course, it puts your ass right where I want it.”
I was becoming lost in the sea of sensations and couldn’t say anything.
My face was turned toward the center of the room where I could watch Scott unwrap yet another toy, a black wooden paddle. “Ready for this?”
I could only nod.
“Maybe only five, but you can say coffeepot at any time.” He sat on the sofa beside me, and I turned to watch him. He raised the paddle and swatted my ass. It wasn’t a love tap, but I knew he could paddle me harder if he wanted. “That’s one.”
He stopped and stroked my ass. Then he swatted me again. “That’s two.”
By then my pussy was twitching, and as my nipples swelled, the clamps got tighter.
Again the paddle fell. “That’s three.”
I was trembling with arousal. I watched Scott move to the foot of the table and felt his fingers in my pussy. “So wet,” he crooned. “I’ve got something for that.”
Again he went to the box, this time withdrawing a large dildo with a wire attached. He rubbed the cold plastic over my folds, then pushed it inside me. “With your ass in the air this should stay in place,” he said.
If he’d played with that phallus a bit I’d have come right then, but I couldn’t get enough stimulation from the unmoving thing to push me over the edge. I clenched and released my vaginal muscles but I couldn’t quite do it.
Again the paddle landed, only increasing my excitement. The nipple clamps hurt more now, and the pleasure I’d had from them earlier changed to just plain pain. I considered not calling it quits, but decided that if Scott couldn’t trust me, he wouldn’t feel as free to experiment. “Coffeepot.”
“Baby,” Scott said, sounding totally contrite. “I’m so sorry.” He started to unfasten my wrists but I stopped him. Minutes ago I couldn’t have uttered a full sentence but the pain was bringing me back to life. “No, Scott. Not that. Just unclip these nipple things and don’t stop.”
He quickly removed the clamps, then, without pause, hit my ass hard. I jumped and almost came. “About this thing in your pussy. It does tricks.”
I heard and felt a buzzing in my cunt, then the dildo actually moved. I came then, screaming, moaning. “Yes! Yes! Yes!”
My body collapsed and Scott withdrew the toy. My ass stung, but he spread a cooling lotion on my flesh. He then removed the cuffs and pulled me to the carpet between his thighs. I had to move only slightly to unzip his jeans and pull out his rock-hard cock. I licked and sucked until, with a matching scream, he came.
We both stretched out on the sofa. Later I again reassured Scott that I had enjoyed our playing. “As if my very noisy climax wasn’t enough for you.”
He laughed. “And you realized how excited it made me as well.”
“You don’t often come in my mouth,” I said, giggling.
“Too true.” He laughed with me. “You didn’t mind, did you?”
“Not in the least.”
“Does that mean we can do this again sometime?”
My smile lit my face. “You’re damned right we can. One last thing. Anytime you want to shop on the ’Net, you’ve got my wholehearted approval. Some things won’t work out but lots will.”
“I want to try so many things.”
“Go for it, with my enthusiastic support. Maybe I’ll do some toy shopping, too.”
Vivid Dreaming
I GUESS IT’S ONE OF THE MEDICATIONS I’M TAKING. IT doesn’t matter why I’m taking stuff; suffice it to say, I’m feeling great now. Anyway, something has caused me to have vivid dreams. Not nightmares, just really detailed, realistic dreams. I mean dreams that feel so real that it’s difficult to accept that I’m awake afterward. Most are truly benign. I’m taking the kids to school, or I’m having dinner at Mac’s parent’s house. Like that. Not sexy, just . . . there. However . . .
I was in bed and really horny. It was deep winter and I was a little chilly, so I snuggled against Mac and enjoyed the feel of his warm, firm, sexy body against mine. Sexy body? It’s the middle of the night and he’s snoring away yet I’m thinking sexy. What the heck should I do?
First, I told myself I was dreaming, and I sort of knew I was. I opened my eyes and I was in the room I grew up in as a kid at my folks’ house. But I was in a double bed, while my bed as a child was a single. And I felt like a teenager, not like a thirty-five-year-old stay-at-home mom.
I looked over and Mac was in the bed with me, although he looked like the Mac I had met almost eighteen years before. I smiled. What we wouldn’t have given back then for a bed and time to enjoy it. I felt as horny and frustrated as I had back then, although I knew I was dreaming. Confusing.
Okay, so in my dream Mac woke up and rolled me over. I could hear his heavy breathing and I wondered whether it was from just being awakened or from arousal. I wanted it to be arousal. You can bet on that.
He grabbed me by the front of my nightgown and pulled my face to his. Again, I knew it was a dream. In the real world, I don’t wear nightgowns. Maybe I should’ve wanted to wake up, but his lips felt so good. I love it when he’s forceful and he made it plain that he wanted what he wanted, and what he wanted was me. Right then!
He tangled his fingers in my long hair (another indication that this wasn’t real) and held my lips against his. He was rough, holding me tightly and not letting me move away, and I felt my nipples tighten until they were almost painful. And he didn’t stop kissing me until I wanted to seize his hand and put in on my aching tits.
Eventually, he released me and bit my left nipple lightly. I wasn’t even surprised that my nightgown had suddenly disappeared. He sucked and bit until I was driven almost to distraction. He moved from breast to breast, being aggressive and masterful, just the way I liked it. My nipples were wet from his mouth’s ministrations. When I reached out to hold his face against me he grabbed my hands and held them over my head, still using his mouth on my tits.
My pussy was sopping by then, and I couldn’t keep my thighs still. I rubbed my legs together to try to ease the pressure. Then his hand was there, stroking the insides of my thighs. Although I didn’t think I could get more excited, the contrast between the gentle stroking and the hard sucking drove me higher still.
“Touch me, please,” I begged. I needed what I knew his fingers could do, and he knew it. I could hear his light chuckle. God, if only this weren’t a dream. Mac hadn’t been like this in years. Oh well . . . I vowed to enjoy the dream and masturbate afterward, if necessary.
His fingers found my clit and it took only a few caresses for me to come. The strength of the spasms surprised me. Hard. Long. So hot. My arousal diminished only slightly as his fingers continued to play with my clit. Had I come? I knew I had but my body was just as hot as it had been.
One finger entered my sopping pussy while his thumb rubbed my clit. I came again. I was sorry for that, since, on the few occasions that I’ve climaxed twice, I came down really fast.
Not so tonight, in this marvelous, realistic dream. I was still soooo hungry.
I started to reach for Mac, but he pushed my hand away. He wanted to do it all, and who was I to argue? His fingers played with my clit and my cunt lips while his teeth nibbled on my tits and his tongue wet my flesh.
With a low growl, Mac pushed me onto my stomach, grabbed my hips to raise my rear, then entered me fr
om behind, doggie-style. He wasted no time on any more preliminaries, but pulled out, then plunged into me again, big and hard and so wonderful. I needed him so much and his cock filled me. He reached beneath me, pulled at my nipples and fingered my clit. I came yet a third time. I’ve never done that before.
“This is amazing. I can actually feel your climax,” he said, his voice hoarse. He continued to pound into me until he came, his dick deep inside me, pouring his jism into my body.
Panting, he rolled off of me and pulled me close against his side. Please, I thought, I don’t want to wake up yet.
“God, that was amazing,” I purred.
“It was that,” Mac rumbled.
I opened my eyes and looked at him. I was startled to see that it was my Mac, thirty-seven, hairline beginning to recede, a totally bemused look on his face. I glanced around. It was my bedroom in the house Mac and I had bought eight years ago.
Am I awake now? I was totally confused. There was no denying that orgasm. I was leaking between my legs, making a wet spot on the bed.
“I loved that,” Mac said, his speech becoming slurred with impending sleep. “When you grabbed me from a sound sleep, it took only moments for me to get hard. Do that more often, will you?” He yawned and in moments I could hear his regular breathing become deeper and more even.
What had happened? Where had the dream ended and reality begun? I tried to figure it out, then decided that it didn’t matter. Mac and I had just had some of the hottest sex we’d had since we were first married. Why overthink this? I just knew that the next time I woke up in the middle of the night I would grab him again and try to replay tonight. Wow!! How fabulous!
Shaving
IT ALL BEGAN IN MY SENIOR YEAR IN COLLEGE. MY LIVING arrangements sucked, so I answered an ad from a woman looking for a roommate. I was delighted with both the small house and the twentysomething brunette who would live there with me. The cost was doable and I quickly gave Carrie a check for the first and last month’s rent.
“I’m delighted you’re going to be moving in, Angie,” she said. “When Pauline broke her leg and moved back home I thought I’d have to carry the whole rent myself.” She hugged me quickly, grabbed her cell phone, and told several friends about our new arrangement.
I moved in a day later and settled in easily. We quickly became fast friends and, although I had my own bathroom, Carrie and I comfortably shared the kitchen and living room. Neither of us were party people so, when not with our respective boyfriends, we spent many an evening in front of the TV together watching reality shows or rented movies.
Things changed just before Thanksgiving. Her shower was larger than the one in my bathroom and one afternoon I’d been caught in the rain and took advantage of her absence to use it, accidentally leaving my shampoo and body wash behind.
Needing my stuff back, the following afternoon I knocked on her bathroom door and, hearing nothing, walked in. I entered and there was Carrie, her well-shaped body wet and naked, stepping from the shower. “It’s fine,” she said. “No sweat,” she said as she saw my hesitation. “You came for your stuff. I meant to put everything back in your bathroom but I forgot.” She motioned. “It’s all on the back of the john.”
I stuttered a bit when I realized that, although we’d lived together for almost three months, we’d not seen each other naked before. I wasn’t embarrassed, it was merely awkward.
My gaze dropped to her crotch area, and I was startled to realize that she’d shaved her pubic hair. When she followed my stare she laughed. “Tommy loves me this way, so I shave almost every day.”
“God,” I said as Carrie casually wrapped herself in a towel. “Jeff would go bonkers. Once in a while we rent a porno flick and he ogles the naked pussies.”
“So why don’t you shave?”
Why? “I thought it would be icky. Doesn’t it get all itchy and stubbly?”
“Not if you’re careful. I use before- and aftershave stuff and haven’t had any problems.”
My body reacted to the thought of my boyfriend’s reaction. “Jeff would jump me in a New York minute if I did that.”
“So? Go for it. You’re welcome to borrow what you need.”
“Can I do it myself?”
“I’ve been shaving for almost a year and it’s become second nature for me. For you, it would be good if someone showed you the ropes. You could always let Jeff do it.”
I though of Jeff’s huge football-player hands. “I’d be afraid to let him touch me like that. Sex is one thing, but shaving my pussy? He’d be all thumbs.”
Carrie raised a questioning eyebrow. “I could do it for you the first time if you’d like.”
“You would?”
And that was how it started. “Sure. I don’t have the time right now,” she said, rubbing her hair dry. “You available late afternoon tomorrow?”
“Jeff is picking me up around six. Would we be done by then?”
“I can leave my office at four so we could start around four thirty. Your last class is at two, right? So that should work.”
“Great. Anything I should get?”
“I’ve got everything. If you get here before I do, take a long hot shower and we’ll make Jeff drool.”
The following afternoon, by the time I was done in the shower Carrie was in her bedroom arranging several items on her night stand. “My tools,” she said.
Wrapped in a towel, I looked at all the stuff she’d gathered. She had creams, lotions, a pair of scissors, and a razor. “Okay. What should I do?”
“Unless it makes you uncomfortable, lose the towel and lie across the bed with your legs off the edge over here.” As I settled she said, “You’ve got a great body, by the way. I’ve always liked the way you wear your clothes, but I’ve never seen you completely nude before. Not bad at all.”
“Thanks,” I said, a little embarrassed by her praise.
“No sweat,” she said lightly. Then she picked up the scissors. “First I need to trim your bush really short. The only thing you need to do is hold still. Very still.”
“Believe me, I won’t move a muscle.”
While she trimmed my pubic hair the only sound in the room was the snick of the scissors. At one point the cold metal touched the inside of my thigh and I gasped, but kept entirely unmoving.
When she was done, she said, “Okay. I have some softening lotion that will make the razor work much better.” She began to apply something mildly aromatic all over my groin. I was a little abashed to realize that her ministrations were arousing me.
I’d never been with a woman and I didn’t think I had any lesbian in me, but erotic touches were erotic touches and my pussy began to tingle. Seeming oblivious to my excitement, Carrie then smoothed shaving cream on my parts.
“This is a new razor and I advise you to use a fresh disposable every time. Again, don’t move!”
I held still and the feel of the long, slow strokes of the blade only added to my arousal. Then I felt her fingers delving into my folds. Suddenly I didn’t think that shaving my pussy was all she was doing. She’d told me not to move so I used that as a mental excuse not to stop her.
“You’re being very good,” Carrie said, her breath hot on my newly bare skin. “Not moving and all. I’m not hurting you, am I?”
My nipples contracted and I began to pant. “No,” I managed to say.
“Good,” she said, her voice soft and breathy. Her fingers slipped through my totally wet flesh, now lubricated with my juices. “Have you ever done anything like this before?”
I knew she meant played sexually with a woman. Not misunderstanding, I answered, “No.”
Her fingers playing with my inner lips, Carrie said, “I want you to know that I’m not a homosexual. Rather, I love sex, with guys and occasionally with women as well.”
“I’ve never . . .”
“I realize that.” She paused. “If you want me to stop, I will.”
I thought a minute. “No,” I said softly. “As lon
g as it won’t ruin our friendship.”
“Why would it?” she said. “Just relax.”
Her thumbs parted me and her mouth found my slit, her teeth nipping at my swollen flesh, one forefinger slowly invading me. I wanted to say something but I was totally incapable of speech. Her hot breath flowed over my bare, wet skin as a second finger joined the first, filling me, as her lips found my clit. She sucked and in only a few moments I could hold back no longer. Waves of orgasm flowed over me causing all my muscles to clench and my toes to curl. I couldn’t catch my breath and I felt my pulse pound in my ears.
She kept licking and sucking until I began to calm. When I could speak, I said, “Shit. That was a surprise.”
“A good one I hope,” Carrie said.
“A very good one.”
“I’m glad. However, this means you need to take another shower to wash off all the, well, let’s just say leftovers, and then I’ll finish with some aftershave lotion.”
Still breathing rapidly but trying to sound calm I asked, “When will I have to do this again?”
“I shave every day or so, and I’ll be glad to help you next time.”
I raised my head and looked into Carrie’s eyes. “I hope you will.”
The Painting
ELLIE HAD BOUGHT THE PAINTING AT A NEIGHBORHOOD tag sale. She wasn’t sure exactly what had appealed to her about the swirls of reds and blacks, but something in the abstract design spoke to her and, after she bargained the owner down to twenty dollars, she’d bought it.
Now, in her tiny apartment, she was thinking about where to hang it. She had no wall space in her minuscule living room, so she carried it into the bedroom. No place there, either. She realized that her impulse purchase had probably been a waste of money, but she somehow couldn’t bear to part with it. She cleared a little space on her dresser and propped it against the mirror. “For the moment,” she said aloud, “you’ll live here. I can use the bathroom mirror when I need to.”
That evening she lay on her bed, feet pointing toward the painting, just gazing into the central swirl. For a moment it seemed to be moving, like some kind of special-effects vortex. Don’t be silly, she told herself, you’ve got a little Spielberg in your brain.
Hot Stories for Cold Nights Page 14