by Adira August
Here the animation gave way to a live, naked, obviously female bottom. The round base of the stimulator, wide enough to prevent the plug from inadvertently slipping all the way inside and concave at the bottom for the insertion of a finger, Avia guessed, moved around, stroking against the inner surfaces of the model’s buttocks, shiny with lube.
Avia could actually see the device turn. A close-up shot of the “stem” rubbing against the model’s anus, made it clear someone was holding her cheeks apart. In the last shot, the model’s hand could be seen rhythmically clutching at the sheet she was lying on, as she squirmed slightly.
Avia became aware of her own hips unconsciously squirming in sync with the model. His big, warm hand was back on her ass. Long, strong fingers spread her cheeks … Avia shook herself. She had work to do.
“... All Hartline Endless Vibration stimulators are hypoallergenic and dishwasher safe …”
Okay, good to know. Avia closed the video player. She figured at those prices it shouldn’t just be dishwasher safe, it should wipe down her counters, as well.
Her cell rang. Talia’s name at the top of her screen. She put it on speaker.
“Hey, Talli.”
“Are you having sex right now?” Her twin demanded.
As one half of a set of identical twins, Avia had become used to certain questions that were asked over and over. “Do you have a secret language?” (No) “Are you psychic with your twin?” Avia and Talia both assured the questioners that the ESP was only on TV. They didn’t think of it as psychic. They didn’t think of it at all. It was just - a thing. A connection.
“I do not answer my phone when I’m having sex,” Avia said. “What are you doing?”
“Thinking about sex, all of a sudden. Who’s the guy?” Talia asked.
Avia skirted the question. “It’s an assignment. I’m researching female erotica and just generally what’s going on in everybody’s bedrooms, these days. Right now, I’m looking at a website that sells sex toys.”
“Which one?” Talia asked. “I can’t believe you can manage to get through the home page of a site like that without something exploding in your brain from embarrassment.”
“What would you know about sex toy sites?”
“Which site?” Talia asked again. “C’mon, I’m online, I want to see. … You know I won’t quit until -”
“Hartlines,” Avia surrendered.
“Oh, good. The best one.” Avia absorbed the implications of that statement in the pause while Talia found the website. “I told Rolly I want a VibeHer for our tenth anniversary. He told me he wanted the exact same thing! We’re saving up.”
“You - Wait - Roland’s a professor of ancient Greek poetry!”
Talia laughed. “C’mon, Av, how do you think we got modern Greeks? Cloning? I swear, you got all the brains and I got all the hormones.”
“Switching the subject now. How’s everyone?” Avia asked.
“Okay. The boys are terrorizing their preschool teachers. Mom pulled something in her back getting groceries out of the trunk, but she’s still going on some self-actualization retreat and wine tasting tour. Rolly might have a seminar to teach out your way in a few weeks, so, yay, we might be seeing each other. Rolly’s mom would keep the boys. When it’s firmed up, I’ll let you know.”
“That would be so great!” Avia said. “I should have this assignment wrapped up by then, and I can show you some of my fave mountain spots.”
“Avi, your fave spots all require strenuous exertion at altitudes that preclude the presence of oxygen in the air. Take me to Aspen, I want to shop. Look for celebrities. Eat at someplace they mention in People magazine. Stay at a bed and breakfast.”
Avia hadn’t seen Talia in almost a year and, of course, she would take her beloved sister, older by thirty-seven minutes and one day (that thirty-seven minutes spanning the time from before until just after midnight) anywhere she wanted to go. Talia had been born first, but she had also been born small, four pounds, seven ounces to Avia’s whopping six pounds, three ounces.
The hospital kept Talia for a six days, making sure her lungs were fully developed, Watching her for signs of jaundice. Keeping track of every drop in and out. But small though she was, Talia was a fighter. She wailed lustily, sucked fiercely and slept deeply, as if determined to make up for lost time. Unlike most newborns, she’d gained weight every day.
On day seven, their parents had simply overridden the cautious doctors and taken Talia home.
Avia had appointed herself Talia’s guardian from the moment Talia could crawl. She got between her tiny older sister and dangerous things like vacuum cleaners that might roar loudly to life and sweep around the floor hoping to suck a baby right up inside.
Avia’s first word was “Tawee” and her parents stopped calling her sister Talia and started calling her Talli and so did everyone else. Avia’s urgent cry of Tawee!! Tawee!! could be heard whether Talli was trying to climb the coffee table or needed her diaper changed.
Talli never quite caught up to Avia physically. She was an inch shorter, a bit more slender of build. But Talli was the vivacious one, the sparkling personality. She was the passionate one.
In middle school, they switched roles, Talli often being the protector of her more reserved sister. Avia gained her full height by the time she was thirteen, a beanpole of a shy teen-ager and woe betide anyone who dared make fun of her around Talli. More than once, Avia had felt pity for a tormentor as Talli eviscerated them with her acid invective.
In a few years, the rest of Avia’s body caught up to her height and Talli had become less combative and more popular with the boys she previously disdained. They had more fun with their twindom in high school, dressing alike some days and sitting in for each other in classes. In college, they’d each found their individual niches and friends. Avia in journalism and Talia in theater. But at whatever stage of life, they were always best friends.
So Avia told Talli she would be happy to spend a day wandering the shops in Aspen and Talli told Avia she supposed she could manage a hiking trail in the Maroon Bells.
“Okay,” Avia said, “I’ll see what I can find for us.”
“Great. I’ll let you know the exact dates when Rolly gets things set. He’ll be there a week, so let’s take at least two days in the mountains. That’ll give you time fill me in on this guy you think you can avoid telling me about.”
“I’m looking at a website, just like I said, and I’m all alone in my own apartment in my own bed and have been all evening,” Avia replied firmly.
“Right. So what’s his name?” Tallia asked, undeterred.
“Go find your husband and bother him,” Avia said. “I still have work to do.”
Tallia laughed and sent a kiss as they clicked off. Avia sat with her arms around herself wondering just how she was going to live within the confines of the NDA she’d so blithely signed. She’d have to talk to him.
Once Ben returned to a relaxed state of body and mind, he slipped his arms through the permanently affixed straps at the sides of the seat cushion. He preferred the stabilizing feel of limbs not left to their own devices, to twitch or shift. Restraint helped him avoid the temptation to touch himself too soon.
His mind drifted back to the start of his day. Laps in the pool ... going through his schedule ... looking forward to some free time in the palas after an early teleconference ... breakfast sent up to him in a dumbwaiter ... eating out on the bailey …. enjoying the morning sun.
The call from J.J. to meet her reporter … Beneath his thoughts a steady hum of anticipation … she was nearly there. He was keeping her from himself, teasing himself with the knowledge of her existence.
The teleconference had ended abruptly when he said he was hesitant to commit as he didn’t know anything about making porn videos. The New York producer who’d approached him with the idea said with an unmistakably patronizing tone, “You don’t have to, I do. Production will be all taken care of here. You won't have to do a
thing but lend your brand name to the projects. And bank your profits, of course. You'll be listed as Executive Producer.” Hugo had grimaced off camera. Ben had smiled.
“I’ll let you know,” he said to New York Producer Guy, as Hugo called him, and switched off.
“Send my regrets and make sure I don’t hear from him again,” he told Hugo. “But it's not a terrible idea. Let’s explore it. Put a team together, see what local production facilities look like. Book me a meeting and a tour next week, if we find something promising. Oh, and I need you at the Barbican at ten to escort a reporter to the Keep.”
In his chair, Ben smiled a little recalling Hugo’s response. “I could swear you just said I was to bring a reporter into the Keep.”
“I’m doing a favor for a friend.” Ben explained. Hugo was the only person he ever explained anything to.
In the Keep, checking supplies … the glimpse of thigh and stocking top on the monitor … unexpected … covering the prototypes … the knock on his door …
Ben Hart disliked huggers and grabbers and women who insinuated their bodies into his personal space. He wasn’t that attractive, except for his money. So he’d developed the habit of leaning forward to give himself a personal margin.
He’d been fascinated by Ms. Rivers approach. She stopped short, turned a bit sideways and extended her hand. She’d presented him with the least view of her body, created her own margin of safety.
But her smile was genuine, her gaze direct, her face open and friendly. And lovely. Clean arched brows and summer-tanned skin over high cheekbones and a generous mouth easily given to a crooked grin. She was tall and graceful and smelled of … flowers and … citrus and … something fresh and green … like herbs …
And then she was gone, back out his door, to explore the lock.
He took himself slowly through their encounter. The wind smoothing her skirt over her fine ass on the bailey ... the darkening look in her turquoise eyes as he hovered over her in the recliner … every parting of her full lips and hitch in her breathing as he brought her closer and closer to who he was … and what he wanted.
He went over the day until he’d told her in no uncertain terms how it would be … nothing is submitted for your approval. You don’t question, object or request ... you submit ... and he’d demanded the datamine.
It was here that his need took over, reality segued into fantasy, into the slaking of his overwhelming thirst for her.
… at the desk, staring blindly at his monitor, waiting for her to come in from the bailey … the sound of the bailey door closing … he held his breath.
The click of the lock as the outside door closed behind her. Fuck. He called up the security camera outside his door on the monitor. Watched her walk away from him, head up, pace steady. Hugo appeared from his office, offered a friendly smile. She was almost to him … NO!
He would have her …
He strode quickly to the door and through. Hugo waited on the elevator, Avia about to step inside. But she turned at the pounding of his steps down the hall toward her. Froze at the look on his face. Their eyes locked. He didn’t stop until he was standing over her, until he could see the moisture on her parted lips, feel her breath on his own. Count the pulse in the soft hollow at the base of her neck. The place he would soon put his mouth.
“You're done for the day,” he said to Hugo not taking his eyes from his hers. If she would not be his companion, she would, at least this day, be his. The elevator doors closed. He heard the lift descend. Hugo would lock it behind him. Only Ben could call it up with his security code.
Her eyes were huge, her pupils wide and dark, her skin flushed. She licked her lips, looked as if she would say something. He grabbed her by the hair and tilted her head back. She gasped, her eyes still on his. A look of uncertainty.
His free arm circled her waist. He bent her back, head lowering, not to her mouth, but to the pulse in her throat. He pressed his tongue into it. Sucked her lightly. She moaned.
He slid his mouth down, over her blouse, onto her breast and took her hardening nipple between his lips, sucking her through the cloth, scraping his teeth over the elongated tip.
“Ah - ah - oh Ben!” She breathed. Her hands grabbed at his arms, fingers tight, not sure whether to pull him close or push him away. Holding her head back, he left her breast and looked into her face and he slid his other hand down and grabbed her full, firm ass, his fingers sliding with deliberation and purpose between her cheeks, letting her know he would take her body as his will demanded. Scandalized, she tried to turn away to hide but his grip on her hair was firm and he forced her to look into his eyes.
He lifted her to himself, shoving her with his whole body against the elevator door, the rock hard length of his cock against her thigh, the head pushed into her pussy through her skirt. With one foot he kicked her feet apart and thrust his hips, his cockhead finding room, now rubbing between her labia even though her skirt. Her eyes closed, she tried to squirm. He raised her off the ground, one thigh between hers, keeping her legs spread, one hand on her breast.
“Please … oh Ben, please …” Seizing a fistful of her golden hair in the other hand, tilting her head back until her sweet full lips parted, panting, wanting, wanting him. His lips opened hers, tongue sweeping inside, and she met him stroke for stroke, her breasts pressing into his chest, she moaned and squirmed against him, her breath hitching deep in her throat … His tongue lashed hers, then sucked it into his own mouth. She uttered a stifled cry and her long, strong legs lifted to circle his hips. He reached behind her, unzipping the skirt, jerking the fabric open, he sent the button flying.
He dropped her to her feet and yanked the skirt and her panties down below her knees with both hands. With one hand flat against her chest, he pushed her against the elevator door. Stepped back to rake his eyes over her.
Her skirt and panties slid down, pooled around her feet. Her garter belt and stockings in place, dark curls of hair between her legs sparkled with drops of moisture. “Spread,” he ordered, voice thick and hoarse with his need. He felt her slight whimpering under his hand, as well as heard it. She lifted one foot and kicked free of her panties and skirt so she was standing with both feet about a foot apart.
He stayed back, drinking her in. The insides of her thighs wet, her stomach fluttering with her panting breaths. Her huge eyes bright with her desire. For him.
“Hands behind your back. Grab your elbows.” She hesitated. “Now,” he snapped. Her hands disappeared behind her, her hips moving forward, toward him to make room. As she slid her forearms together and over each other, each hand finding the opposite elbow, her upper body bowed, thrusting her breasts forward.
“Don’t move,” he ordered. He stepped close to her, looking down into her face as he unbuttoned her blouse and opened it. Her mouth open, head tilted back, she pushed her hips toward him. He kept his cock from her. “Not yet. I say when.”
Two hooks at the front kept her bra closed. He used both hands and slowly undid them, let the bra part. Her swollen breasts sprang free. Her dark red nipples furled.
“I’m going to fuck you right here.” His hands slid around to cup her full, round ass and he lifted her suddenly, sliding her up the cool metal door of the elevator. She gasped. “Don’t let go of your arms!” He opened his trousers, widened his stance so they clung to his hips while his erection was freed. Her eyes went to his cock, startled by the size, the width of the head.
He drew one of her legs around his waist and leaned his hip into the door to take her weight. With one hand he kneaded her breasts, his thumb sliding over her nipple. “My God, your nipples are hard.” He pinched each one, moving from one breast to the other, again and again, pinching harder and harder, her nipples tightening and elongating under his fingers. His mouth found hers again, her tongue eagerly seeking his. She moaned and writhed, her arms useless behind her.
He slipped his hand under her thigh and his fingers found her sex, hot, slick and swollen. He shifted
his hips and his fingers found his cockhead. “Look at me.” She did, “I'm going to open you now.” The hard head of his cock found her and he slid in, slowly, watching her watching him. He paused in her stretched opening. Felt a gush of precum making her tight opening even slicker.
“Feel me.” He moved slightly. Slowly.
She made a sound deep in her throat, an animal whine and her breath caught and choked.
“Please. Please …”
“Please what?”
“Just … please Ben … ”
“Say it.”
She moaned in protest, spasming around the head of his dick, trying to pull him deeper.
Her leg tightened and he smiled. “Not until you tell me exactly what you want.” He held her hips still as he slowly pushed in another inch ... slowly … slowly ... he pulled out until the stiff wide ridge of his cock rubbed again and again through the tight portal.
She moaned and shoved her breasts into him, her arms still behind her, she started to keen.
“Tell me what you want or I’ll never let you come-”
“Fuck me! You bastard, fuck me, fuck me hard.” Her leg around him kicked out involuntarily. “Please,” she begged. “Make me come, please, I can’t stand it.”
He lowered his mouth to her distended nipple and sucked and then he drove balls deep inside of her in one smooth thrust -
“Ben!” She screamed as the first orgasm hit her and he slammed into her deep and hard, again and -
“Bennnn!”
In the chair, head forced back, veins in his neck throbbing and full, body straining against his bonds, both fists viciously jacking his deep red, steel-hard cock, Ben’s orgasm tore through him, his dick gushed thick streams of cum over his stomach and chest.
“Avienne!”
THURSDAY