by Kerri Sharpe
I knew my territory now, and made Abigail’s Accessories without the gorilla spotting me. Abigail, or possibly one of her assistants, supplied me with what I needed, a dinner candle of the short variety, just right for naughty girls, or even a naughty leopard girl. I was glad she couldn’t see my face, because you know that when a single girl buys a single candle it’s not necessarily going in a stick.
Now for the hunt. I had my tummy fluttering, and felt as naughty as naughty can be. Out on the mezzanine the zebra had stopped to browse and the warthog was snuffling around a likely looking troop of housewives. I slunk past, taking care not to be seen from above, and as I climbed the stairs I saw my prey. He was at the far end of the aisle, holding his bucket out to a pair of suits, his shaggy black back towards me.
I crept forwards in the shelter of the stalls, ignoring a yet cheekier comment from my cockney costermonger and sidling sideways into the shadow of a stand of sunglasses. Still the gorilla talked. I moved forwards, loath to interrupt his foraging but determined I would get him this time. Slowly I crept forwards, from shadow to shadow, from Woolies to Marks to Macs, the last ensuring that he had no chance of picking up my scent on the wind.
At last the suits moved on. I stepped out boldly, walking up beside him to run a hand down his furry back to his furry buttocks. He jumped just like before, but I’d already moved away, this time taunting with a deliberate wiggle of my leopardy tail and an ever so meaningful crook of one leopardy finger. Now he came after me, slow and steady, six foot six of hairy black gorilla with his eyes fixed on my wiggling tail. I sped up. He sped up too, and we were running laughing down the aisle, oblivious to everyone’s the stares.
Where I wanted to go there was nobody to stare, just the blank end of the side passage and the door to some offices, unoccupied on a Saturday. My own little nook was open, and I slid inside, my head poked out, one finger to beckon and one long leopardy leg to entice. He came on, now eager, hunched low and scratching under one arm, then stood high to beat his chest and show off what a big strong dominant male he was. I already knew.
I slipped inside. He followed. I jammed the door with a chair and cuddled close, rubbing my body against him to feel the power of him against my breasts and tummy and legs. I nuzzled his face as he returned my embrace, his hands slipping low to cup my bottom, so like a man, impatient, but now I didn’t care. I let him feel, his big hairy gorilla hands cupping my furry cheeks, squeezing and feeling with all the ardour of the first ever time, for all that he’d held me a hundred. He only let go when he lifted his hands to his head, but I shook mine.
‘Uh-uh, I want you the way you are. Be a gorilla for me, only I want my special treat too.’
He answered with a grunt, just right. I ducked down to my bucket, feeling the heat in my cheeks as I took out the candle. He knew, he’d seen, he’d done it for me a dozen times, but it still made me blush, so hot, and that heat went straight where it belonged, hotter still as I whispered into his ear.
‘You know where this goes, don’t you?’
This time I got a double grunt. He took the candle. I was purring as I went down, eager to be taken straight away, and as I was. There were lots of chairs, just right for a naughty girl to kneel on while she gets her special treat. I chose one and climbed right on, pushing out my furry bottom and reaching back to lift my tail, surely all the invitation any man could ever need?
It was all he needed. He gave a single throaty grunt and closed in. I gave him a wiggle and closed my eyes, eager to lose myself in my fantasy as he gave me what I so badly needed. I felt his hands on my body, tracing the outline of my hips and thighs, my bottom and my breasts, stroking me through my fur. His front pressed to me and already I could feel the big excited bulge beneath his suit, ready for my body, ready to fill me right up to the top of my head.
I gave him another wiggle, encouraging him, and his hands had found my zip. My mouth came open in a sigh as he drew it down, nice and slow, allowing my costume to open and make me available to his big gorilla hands, his big gorilla mouth, his big gorilla cock. Now I hung my head, leaning on the chair, my back pulled in and my knees set wide, presenting myself to him the way he likes me, the way he knows means he can do as he pleases, especially that one special thing.
He began to touch, the hair on his hands tickling my cheeks and between, to make my muscles tighten in anticipation. I sighed again as he ducked down low, nuzzling his face in between my cheeks to rub my pussy and send shiver after shiver of pure joy all the way up my spine to my head. He had my costume right open, my bottom pushing out of the unzipped hole, bare and wide, everything showing in an open invitation for what I wanted. I heard the rustle of the crinkly plastic of the candle wrapping and I could hold back my words no more.
‘Put it in … go on, right in … nice and slow.’
I spread my knees wider still as I spoke, really flaunting myself, like the naughty rude little show-off I am. He could see the target, I knew, my back pulled in as far as it could go, my cheeks spread wide, open and ready, ready for the candle to be slid in where it belonged, right up my pussy, slid in to give me just a teasing touch of that gorgeous full feeling and drawn slowly in and out, fucking me, tormenting me. I let him do it, knowing he was only getting me ready for the real thing and that the more he teased the better it would be when I got it. In and out went the candle, making me gasp and sigh, wriggle my bum and clutch at the chair, until at last I couldn’t bare it any more.
‘Go on, you bastard, do it … do it, will you? Make me ready and just … just fucking do it!’
I screamed out the last words, but all he did was move the candle in and out, faster still, until I was whimpering with frustration and need. He was doing it on purpose, I knew, because he wanted me to say it, like the dirty little schoolboy he was at heart, like most men are. Not that I could resist, and he knew it, but I was wiggling my toes and thumping my hand on the back of the chair in frustration before I finally cracked and the dirty words began to spill from my lips.
‘Up my bum, you bastard! That’s what you want to hear, isn’t it? Now do it … stick it up my bum … stick it …’
My words broke to a long low sigh as he obliged. I felt the candle touch me in that so naughty place. I felt myself open, accepting the long hard shaft deep inside me. It felt so nice, holding me just a little open and filling me up, but better, far better, it felt so naughty, so gloriously naughty, to have something up my bottom and in front of a man.
I was whimpering with pleasure as he let go of the candle shaft, leaving it deep inside me with just a little bit sticking out, and purring as I positioned myself for entry and gave him one more encouraging wiggle. It’s so nice to feel bare and to feel rude in front of a man, a man who appreciates my feelings and responds to me, a man like Neil. He knows what I’m like too, and what I’d be thinking as I knelt for him, open and ready behind, with a candle up my bum, as he quickly adjusted his suit to pull himself free. Now it was gorilla time.
He gave a throaty grunt as he moved up behind me, making me giggle even as I felt the hot hard head of his cock press to my leg. One huge hairy hand moved down between my thighs and he was guiding himself into me, bringing my mouth wide in a gasp of pure bliss as I felt myself open and fill. I adore that full feeling. There is nothing like it in all this world, and now I had it, in my own special way and more, kneeling, with something up my bum and a gorgeous great gorilla to fuck me.
In he went, all the way, until I could feel the thick shaggy fur against my bottom, ticklish and warm. His hands found my hips, holding me tight as he began to move inside me, back and forth, in and out, and with every push jamming the candle in to remind me that it was up my bottom. I was gasping immediately, wriggling myself onto him and drumming my feet on the chair for the sheer overwhelming ecstasy of what he was doing to me.
He felt bigger than ever, although I was accepting him with ease. It was as if he was filling not just my pussy but the whole of my being, right up to the top of my
head, which is exactly the way it should be. He was good too, taking his time, slow and deep, then hard and fast, and slow and deep once more, until I was dizzy with pleasure and knew that all I needed was that one tiny crucial touch to take me over the edge.
I tried to hold off, savouring the pleasure he was giving me, but it was just too much. My hand went back, but as I found my sex he grunted. My own hand was gently but firmly removed from between my thighs, only to be replaced with his own, or rather his big hairy gorilla paw. It was something he’d never done before, one more rude, loving detail to our repertoire, and I was babbling thanks even as he began to rub me.
He was fucking me too, short awkward thrusts, as he held onto me around my belly and hip, but hard and satisfying, while his body was pressed tight against my bum to make the candle move with each and every push. I was going to come, my vision hazy with pleasure as I let my hand stray to my chest, stroking my painfully stiff nipples through my fur as my feelings rose, with my entire mind concentrated on what he was doing to me, how well he had handled me.
As my thighs and tummy went tight a moan escaped my lips. I thought of how I’d teased him, wiggling my spotted furry bottom until he decided to have me despite the risk of where we were. I thought of how I’d bent over for him, my bum pushed out first in fur and then bare naked for his attention. I thought of how he’d teased me, easing the candle in and out of my pussy when he knew full well where it was supposed to go, until I’d broken and begged for it. I thought of how he’d fucked me, how he was still fucking me, how we’d look, me with my bare bottom sticking out of my leopard suit while I was humped by a big hairy gorilla. I thought of what he was doing, bringing me off under his fingers as he fucked me, and with that I came.
I screamed and I screamed again, oblivious to the danger of getting caught, and I would have screamed some more if one great hairy hand hadn’t closed over my mouth. He held me like that, still fucking me, still rubbing me, tight in his grip as I rode my orgasm, through one blinding peak after another, until at last I could hold on to it no more.
With that he took his own pleasure, gripping me by the hips and driving himself deep so hard he had me gasping again immediately. I was so sensitive I thought my head would burst as I shook it urgently from side to side, but he was done almost immediately, whipping his cock free at the very last instant to speckle my bum with hot wet seed.
I had barely come down from my high when we heard the sound of voices, and there was a frantic scrabble to get ourselves decent. Whoever it was passed by, but with my excitement gone so had my daring, and we left our cubbyhole as quickly as we could, sneaking out one by one to mingle with the shopping crowds once more, only now I was wearing a happy grin under my leopard mask as I worked.
Twice more that afternoon I passed the gorilla as we came and went with our buckets, and each time I gave him a little squeeze where it would do the most good. I was keen to get home too, feeling a little sticky and up for more fun, so I went down to Mrs Townshend as soon as I decently could. She didn’t mind, happy with my takings, and I quickly changed back, no longer a leopard girl.
I was just doing up my second shoe when I heard Neil’s voice behind me.
‘How did it go, Lizi? Did you enjoy it?’
He knew full well I had and I turned to give him a cheeky answer, to find myself looking up at a large hippo.
Monica Belle is the author of the Black Lace novels Noble Vices, Valentina’s Rules, Wild in the Country, Wild by Nature, Office Perks, Pagan Heat and The Boss. Her stories have also appeared in several Wicked Words collections.
Missionary Impossible
Maya Hess
NADIA KASPAROVA READ the brief. Her eyes moved slowly, incredulously, across the screen as if they were revolving freely in their sockets, as weightless and relaxed as her dangling limbs. She pulled down the hem of her T-shirt, tucking it into the waistband of her sweatpants, and closed her eyes. Wiping away droplets of sweat that had beaded on her recently exercised body, Nadia recalled her years of training. She fast-forwarded everything that she had worked for, replaying it through her mind in order to focus on the latest and highly unusual set of experiments to be carried out on the World Space Station Ventura.
‘Two hundred and eighty-three days and it has not entered my mind.’ Nadia opened her eyes and exhaled heavily. Later, she would be drinking her breath in the form of recycled air. Water was precious three hundred miles above the Earth. ‘Up here, I feel barely human. Why do they think I would want to act like one?’ She read the brief again, just to make sure: ‘Operation EROSS – Experimental Reproduction in Orbiting Space Station … preparation for sexual reproduction during long-term space missions by husband– wife teams … possible approaches to sexual relations in the zero-G environment …’
Nadia switched screens to monitor her other experiments and smiled. She felt comfortable with the tables and graphs that presented strings of numerical information relating to her beloved seedlings. Studying the effect of microgravity on fast-growing plants was the first step to becoming self-sufficient in space during manned missions to Mars and beyond. Not only would the specimens eventually provide a supply of food, but they would also assist with reconditioning waste water and stale air.
How could they possibly expect her to divert her attention to this ridiculous new experiment?
‘Pfah! I will not do it. My contract states my work and this –’ Nadia flicked the monitor with her clipped fingernails ‘– this is what I am paid to do.’ She left the cramped work space and retreated weightlessly to her tiny cabin, making use of the anchor points along the way. She began to mutter in Russian while she unfastened her comfort pack and withdrew a limited number of wet wipes. Unable to rid her usually clear and focused mind of the new brief from Mission Control, Nadia stripped naked and began to vigorously rub the sweat from her body before it could bead and escape into the cabin. She used tooth powder and dry shampoo and applied a smear of moisturiser – her only luxury – before dressing in that week’s allocated clean clothing.
‘Brig, I’m turning in. Is everything OK your end?’ Nadia used the intercom to speak to Commander Robert Brigson.
‘I’m just sending reports downstairs for tomorrow’s docking procedures. Things are looking good for a clean swap and, boy, I can’t wait for something different to eat.’
Nadia smiled, although wouldn’t have done if she was speaking with the commander face to face. Robert was easy to get along with, as professional as they came yet strangely casual about falling around the Earth at eighteen thousand miles per hour. By ‘downstairs’, he meant Mission Control in Florida.
‘And we’ll have a new friend.’ Nadia cleared her throat of whatever was caught there – perhaps the thought of a new crew member sent specifically to assist with the radical experiments, or perhaps just the tooth powder. You couldn’t spit in space. Swallowing was imperative.
‘Drew? You’ll love him. We were in the Air Force together in the nineties. Nadia, take a look out of your window.’
The intercom went silent for a moment as Nadia turned to the blackness outside. A small but brilliant spangle fizzed over Asia and within seconds had reared up over the planet, spreading its dazzling fingers around the edge of the Earth, making it look like a giant diamond solitaire ring. But only for a few moments, and then the invasive rays of the sun drenched the interior of the space station in annoying heat and light.
‘That was nice. I’m tired. Good night, Brig.’ Nadia strapped herself into the sleeping bag, which in turn was strapped to a bulkhead, and snapped a mask over her eyes to seal out the light. She sighed. In eighteen hours, the delivery spacecraft Evolution would deposit Mission Specialist Captain Drew Masters along with supplies of food, clean clothing and equipment for the laboratory. She struggled to get comfortable as the sunlight filtered through her mask. ‘Damned sunrise happens every ninety minutes anyway.’ Nadia squirmed onto her side and slipped angrily into her allotted eight hours of sleep. Her fitful
dreams were filled with feeble excuses why she wouldn’t conduct the ridiculous experiments and the new crew member forcing himself upon her in the name of science. Finally, she slept.
Nadia was woken by piped classical music, courtesy of Mission Control.
‘Good morning, Miss Kasparova. Another beautiful day.’
Nadia recognised the voice as Brigitte’s, assistant controller in Florida. It was comforting to know that every breath she inhaled, every experiment she undertook and every piece of food she ate was monitored and logged by scores of trained professionals back on Earth. Nadia was convinced that they could read her thoughts too – and she wouldn’t have minded, either. Her brain was so honed and sharpened for life in space that there was nothing she wouldn’t share with any of the staff back at base. Being an astronaut wasn’t simply a job: it was her life.
‘Hello, Brigitte. You have sunshine today?’ Nadia pushed the mask up into her glossy blonde hair, cropped into a boyish style, and peeled apart the webbing that had held her in place. There was a lag before Brigitte’s crackled reply beeped into the cabin.
‘Still eighty-four degrees and the sun’s going down. Now listen, Nadia, we’ve been working with your commander for the last few hours but he’s resting now in readiness for the docking. All is on schedule and in T minus nine hours forty minutes you’re going to have yourself a new buddy.’ More static.
Nadia swallowed, remembering yesterday’s unexpected brief. ‘Buddy?’
Brigitte came back. ‘Yeah, you know, like friend, pal … er, mate?’
‘I know what buddy means.’ Nadia was sensitive about her English, aware that her accent tolled with the harsh, almost manly, tones of her native Russian. She was jolted by a sudden wave of terror – something she hadn’t experienced since her last solo space walk. ‘Mate?’ She knew the word meant friend as well as sexual partner, neither of which she wanted.