by Alison Tyler
I compress my pussy muscles, milking his dick, and he moans, collapsing on my back. He’s hot and hard, covered in a sheen of morning sweat, and his face is in the crook of my neck now. I feel the heat of his breath trapped in the frazzle of my long black hair. It’s a curtain across my face and I can’t see a thing, but I don’t need to. All I need to feel is Clark moving inside me, that big fat dick pulsing in my pussy with every thrust.
He’s grunting and yelping in alternation, and I know what this means. He’s going to come soon, and I want to be there to greet him, so I push my ass back into the saddle of his hips. There’s just enough room for him to reach under my body and play with my clit, which is aching even though I had an orgasm not five minutes ago. I can come until it hurts, and with Clark I often do.
Mashing his finger against my pulpy wet clit, Clark fucks me in smooth thrusts and then jerky shoves. His cock feels huge inside my cunt, and I tighten every muscle in my body, which makes my clit itch for release.
He’s almost there and I’m close too. I’m squealing into the pillow, whipping my hair away, trying to see and not see. I can’t keep still. I buck back against him while he rams me and scours my hot clit, and I’m so fucking close I can barely breathe. There’s hair in my mouth and I try to spit it out, which seems to make my pussy clamp down on Clark’s dick. Who knew?
“Yeah, Becky.” He’s whining against my ear, so hot, wet. His words are everywhere. “Fuck yeah, Beck.”
I growl, shoving my ass back against his body, milking his cock with all I’ve got while he squeezes my mound, compressing my clit.
“Fuyaaaa-ckyeeeeee-aaaah!” The syllables that tumble out of my mouth don’t make any sense, but I’m sure Clark’s coming too hard to hear me anyway.
My heart is pounding in my ears and his heart is pounding against my back. He lies on top of me, dead weight. I’m moaning, more nonsense syllables, but he doesn’t scold me for the noise this time.
I’m dazed and, for the moment, I feel no pain. Everything is good. This is what I live for.
Time goes by, and Clark pulls out of me, leaving a hot trail of cum down my thigh. He walks to the bathroom and I open my eyes and it hits me all over again: the bedside table, the nail polish, the knickknacks, the baby oil.
Every time I spend the night here, I want to leave something of myself hidden in plain sight. Maybe a lip gloss or a bracelet or a hair elastic—Clark’s wife has short hair, so she’ll know it isn’t hers. I want her to find this little piece of me and take it in her hands and look at it, then call out, “Where did this come from?” And even if she doesn’t ask the question, she’ll know it came from me. Not me specifically, maybe, but some sort of “me,” some girl that isn’t her.
Mother Bear says, “Who’s been sleeping in my bed?”
The shower hisses on, and I roll out from under the covers. Sure Clark came not long ago, but if I suck him he’ll get hard enough to fuck me again. I know this from experience.
As I cross the threshold into the bathroom, I remember all the times I’ve lathered my hair with her shampoo and softened it with her conditioner, all the times I’ve rinsed those products out under the flow of that brushed-nickel showerhead. It occurs to me that every time I’ve been here, I’ve left a bit of myself behind: I’ve left thick strands of my long black hair in the drain. I doubt if Clark thinks to clean it after I’ve gone.
I’m here, Clark’s wife. I’m here, if you know where to look.
THRILL THE COMPETITION
Allison Wonderland
It’s not much fun giving a blow job,” Taryn remarks over the noisy gush of heat hitting my hair. “Although I think every lesbian feels that way, don’t you?”
“Only if they can speak from experience,” I reply, wincing as Taryn continues to torture my tresses. Taryn winces, too—for an entirely different reason. “And I seriously doubt that the judges are going to inquire about my sex life, oral or otherwise, during the interview.”
“Agreed.” She puts down the blow-dryer and picks up a hairbrush. “A better question would be: why did you get involved in beauty pageants?”
I smirk. The answer is out of the question. I got involved in beauty pageants because I wanted to meet girls. I could care less about the sash or the cash or the crown that glitters like a dinner plate in an advertisement for dishwashing soap. That doesn’t mean I don’t take pageantry seriously. It just means that I’m not in it to win it.
I used to think pageants were sideshows, populated with aspiring anchorwomen who were glitzy and ditzy, self-confident and self-conscious. But I’ve been on the circuit for two years now, since I was nineteen, and in that time, I’ve met girls with moxie and mettle and razor-sharp minds. Girls like Taryn.
The first time I saw her parade across the stage, her gown sparkling like a Christmas ornament, her teeth aligned like corn on the cob, I wasn’t really attracted to her. There was something in the way she moved, her back as straight as an exclamation point; her steps so polished, so precise; that made me think she was hollow on the inside.
But, as the saying goes, first is the worst, second is the best, and Taryn made a much better impression the second time around. We were at a local pageant, waiting outside the hotel’s conference room for the personal interview to begin, when Taryn tapped me and said, “I much prefer T&A to Q&A. Do you?”
“I do,” I replied, like a blushing bride.
Not surprisingly, she and I became fast friends. Well, not fast friends exactly. If we’d become fast friends, we would have fornicated by now. But… Look, let’s not hump to conclusions, all right? I don’t want to hook up with her; I want to date her, which I am. It’s just that sometimes I feel like she’s the tortoise to my hare.
Maybe it’s because in the pageant world, scandals are a no-no, so we’ve had to keep our relationship hush-hush. But I ask you: would anyone really be surprised? I’m surprised there hasn’t already been a sapphic snowball effect. I mean, here you have a bevy of beautiful women who grin and bare it backstage, treating each other to flashes of flesh and snippets of skin, and—
“You still haven’t answered my question,” Taryn tells me. She lies down on her bed, beside a new pantsuit that wasn’t there a minute ago.
“You’re wearing beige?” I query. “That’s sort of a noncommittal color—neither good nor evil. You must be in a Mae West mood: you used to be snow white, but you drifted.” I tickle her torso.
“Be that as it may,” she squeals through her squirms, “I need an answer, Miss Behave Yourself.”
“I got involved in beauty pageants because I want world peace and a piece of the pie,” I reply, giving Taryn’s mussed hair a few fluffs.
She shakes her head, the light locks shifting across her back. “You’re going to blow it,” she informs me.
“Oh, come now.”
“Instant orgasm? Is that anything like instant coffee?”
We look at each other. Her eyes are Bambi-brown and notably enchanting. I get lost in them, in her, in our very unladylike laughter. (We both do a Steve Urkel sort of snort, just one of the many quirks we have in common.)
Taryn takes the pantsuit by the hanger. “Sorry, Mom, but my girlfriend doesn’t approve.” She walks across the room, to the garment bag draped over the dresser. “I’ll exchange it before the pageant.”
I watch her walk, modeling confidence that is at once casual and cautious. “Not before you help me find an outfit. You know I like your taste.”
“I know you would, anyway.” Taryn blushes, rushes to hide her embarrassment behind her hands. “Did I just say that with a straight face?” she mumbles into her palms.
“Technically, no.”
“Thought so,” she says, and laughs a little. “Well, good, I’m glad we’re in harmony about that.”
“I’m sorry. I don’t speak Care Bear.” My tone is light, but my heart is knocking against my ribs and I’m more than a little damp with desire. Taryn comes back to bed, her face still red. “Awww, don’t
be bashful,” I tease, hugging her. She hugs back, until we’re embracing so tightly we’re practically wearing each other. “So…are you a beauty in the streets and a beast in the sheets?” I’m going for husky but my voice comes out high, and I sound like a cross between Frenchy from Grease and Jeanette the Chipette.
In answer, I get a kiss—slender, tender lips moving against mine, grapefruit gloss charming my taste buds.
“Maybe,” she murmurs, sincerely uncertain.
We keep kissing.
I begin to undress Taryn, to reveal her appeal. Taryn’s body is a potpourri of swerves and slopes and swoops. Her teats pucker like the tips of lemons and her fuzzy swatch of hair curls like the tips of chocolate chips.
I touch her skin, pale and pliant and softer than cashmere.
I kiss her skin, painting her cake-batter complexion vixen red. I don’t know why I left my lipstick on. Maybe so I could leave my lipstick on her.
Taryn’s spine curves as my tongue loops hoops around her nipples.
My palms shift to her sides, drift to her thighs. I lower my head. She raises her hips.
My mouth cruises along her sex, the color of pink champagne and the flavor of pineapple and red velvet cake.
I tunnel through her cunt, lust glazing my lips.
I seek the perky pink morsel snuggled in the ripples and feel her clit thump against my tongue.
Quiet quivers bolt through Taryn’s body. It isn’t in her nature to be noisy. But her face is screaming, the features beautifully contorted, like a Picasso.
After she comes, I linger between her legs, enjoying her scent, the perfume of her pussy. “I hope the judges don’t ask me about a recent goal I accomplished,” I murmur, watching the rapid rise and fall of her chest. Soon, it slows, indicating that her heart has resumed its regular rhythm.
“Tell them the truth,” she suggests, as I move to lie beside her. “Tell them that you turned an innocent beauty queen into a slightly less innocent pillow queen.”
“Oh, so you’re not going to return the flavor?” I challenge, mindful of the clear-colored cloud covering my crotch.
Taryn’s smile makes her dimples grin. “Some other time,” she says, stretching her lips into a yawn.
“You cannot put lust on a waiting list,” I grouse, my sex scraping her hip. “Can I at least get a hint of what’s to come?”
Taryn turns to me. “Yes,” she says, our limbs entwined, her lips fading into mine. “You.”
COSMIC FATE
Angell Brooks
Ten more minutes, I thought, glancing around the carnival. Ten minutes and then I can get out of this nightmare and go for a drink. I hauled one of the milk cartons up in front of me, and began stacking the plastic rings from the Ring Toss. This was the last year I’d volunteered for the games. Next year, I’ll sell tickets or something that doesn’t involve snotty kids screaming because they didn’t win a plastic frog.
The sky was several shades of amber in the wake of the setting sun. I loved summer. And despite the disaster of this year’s Ring Toss, I always looked forward to the annual Shriners Carnival. I always volunteered. The money went toward revitalizing the parks and playgrounds in the area, places I used to go to when I was a child.
Every year held surprises, from the old friends who came back for the night, to the local celebrities who turned up in support. Last year, we had an Emmy Award winner perform an impromptu concert. This year, my surprise was the very reason I needed that drink.
Jackie Johnson, or JJ for short. A cosmic blast from the past towing a tail full of heartache, confusion and lust. And she was heading right into my atmosphere.
This collision would make the big bang look like a firecracker.
I filled up one milk carton, and started on the other, the meeting playing in my mind over and over on continuous loop…
It had started as a great day. And then, with two hours left in my shift, I turned around to retrieve a stray ring, and when I turned back to my customers, I found myself staring into a very familiar pair of green eyes. Her mouth opened to speak, but before words could emerge, a pair of arms encircled me from behind.
“Hey, honey.” A set of lips I knew as well as my own settled on my neck. I shivered as Jackie’s eyes narrowed and grew dark. Instead of dealing with it, I turned into Dani’s embrace. “Hey yourself, gorgeous. How’s your shift going?” Dani was manning the Tilt-A-Whirl. It was where we had met two years ago. Her brown hair was falling out of her ponytail, and it gave her the sexy, disheveled look that made my knees weak.
“All right. But I think I’ll be done after you, so how about we meet at the car? And then we can go home and…” She whispered naughty things in my ear. I bit back a moan, my pussy instantly wet. Not one for PDAs, Dani gave me a quick swat on the ass and winked as she walked back to her post.
I noticed that Jackie was gone. My heart sighed a little. Jackie had been my first love, my first real girlfriend after I’d finally accepted that I liked girls more than guys. Jackie’s was the first pussy I’d ever tasted. And she’d been my first heartbreak.
It hadn’t ended well. There wasn’t even a definitive reason for it to end. Just one day—she was gone. But even after five years, JJ still had the power to make me want.
Why was she back? Did it even matter? I was with Dani now, and I was content. And that was enough—wasn’t it? Sure, she didn’t excite me like Jackie did, and while she was adventurous in bed, there weren’t the astronomical fireworks that had happened every time JJ and I made love. But it was enough. It had to be—because I couldn’t go down that road again.
I finished packing up and, grabbing my bag, waved good-bye to the night guards. I made my way toward the parking lot, taking a shortcut through the dense trees to get there. I couldn’t wait to get home, with Dani, and all the dirty promises she’d made.
I cried out in surprise as I was dragged behind one of the giant oaks. Jackie’s soft, supple lips mashed against mine, taking my breath away with a single kiss. The air around us crackled with the fireworks I remembered. There were no words to say, as my camp shirt was ripped open and a willing hand sought my breasts. Jackie’s other hand pinned my wrists together, bringing my arms above my head, causing my tits to pop out of the flimsy bra.
I was already aroused, but now my excitement completely soaked through my thong, and was threatening to show through my tiny denim shorts. My chest was heaving as JJ brought my bare breast to her mouth, gently encircling the nipple with her lips. Hot breath mingling with the cool night air was almost enough to make me come on the spot, and somewhere in the back of my mind, I thought I should fight—I should stop this. But then Jackie stuck out her talented tongue and licked the tip. Shivers ran rampant through my body as I moaned.
The bark of the tree was scratching my bare arms, the rough texture adding to my pleasure. JJ’s mouth continued its onslaught on my flesh, and tears threatened to spill from my closed lids as she suckled me closer to a delicious orgasm. My groin thrust forward, desperate for contact, any kind. Because I knew that one touch could put me right over the edge. And I fucking wanted it—needed it. From her. With her.
And she knew it.
Jackie’s height had her at an advantage, and she just moved out of reach, never releasing the hold her mouth currently had on that supersensitive nipple. The other one stood out, begging for a little attention, and I motioned with my torso, biting my lip. After years of being together, JJ knew my body language and obliged with a quick flick and a rough suck.
As I was on the brink of coming, my cell phone rang. Talk about timing.
Jackie released my hands for me to find the phone but continued to pay close attention to my breasts, which were still bare. I didn’t dare answer. There was no way to explain the quiver in my voice or the breathlessness I was experiencing.
“That’s…Dani…” I managed to force out in little squeaks. “Need…to…go…”
And then she spoke. “No, baby.” She put my tits back in the bra
, and reassembled the shirt. Moving in close, her voice was the husky whisper I loved to hear, the voice I often heard in my dreams. “From where I stand, you need to come.”
And with those words, she kissed me gently, her hand slipping up the leg of my short shorts. Her finger found my clit, stroking it lightly as her tongue did the same to mine. She delicately slipped two fingers into my dripping cunt, fucking me against the tree.
I came in waves, mewling against Jackie’s mouth. She held me up, grinding the heel of her hand into my pussy. I felt my clit pulsating and quivering as Jackie kept me coming, ignoring my weak protests.
The phone went off again. This time, Jackie released me, pulling me away from the tree, and picking pieces of bark and leaves out of my hair. She looked me in the eye.
“This isn’t over. I’ll call you tonight.”
Legs shaking, I slowly walked toward the meeting spot, pausing long enough to put my phone on silent. I saw the car sitting there, Dani in the driver’s seat, with steam coming out of her ears.
“I called you twice. Where the hell were you?”
I feigned surprise. “You called twice? I didn’t hear anything.” I pulled the phone out. “Two missed calls. Weird. Try it again. Maybe something’s wrong.” I grabbed Dani’s phone and pressed the redial. My phone, sure enough, didn’t ring. I checked the settings.
“Shit. It was on silent. How the hell did that happen?” Dani shook her head.
“Doesn’t matter. You’re here now. Ready to go home?” she winked. With a heavy heart, I slipped my hand into hers, knowing it might be the last night of contentment we’d have.
As the car pulled away, I glanced out the window and saw JJ standing there, gazing after the car, and I knew she was right.