by Angela Ward
He didn’t waste time with small strokes. I felt his cock push past my lips and over my tongue, almost immediately reaching the back of my mouth and then pushing into my throat. I’d never taken anyone in so deeply, and I certainly hadn’t taken anyone in so deeply who was so large. I suppressed gags, more out of fear that he’d think I was inexperienced than for any other reason. I couldn’t believe his forcefulness, his assurance that I would be okay with all of this. Of course, I found it more amazing that I was indeed okay with all of it. I’d always been very tentative, and I think my lovemaking was very tentative as a result. There was absolutely nothing tentative about how Tommy was behaving. He pushed all the way in until his pubic hair tickled my nose, pulled back, and pushed in again.
I was completely out of my element. He continued to push in and out of my throat with what appeared to be absolutely no concern for my comfort. The strange thing was that the cavalier attitude about it somehow made me enjoy it, and when he finally pulled away and I gasped for air, I not only felt desperate to feel him between my legs, but I also felt desperate to have him back in my throat. He had other plans, though, and he lifted me up and my panties joined my dress on the floor. I pulled him to me and lifted a leg, leaning against the wall to give him access, but again he had ideas of his own. He flipped me around and bent me forward.
With my hands on the wall, I pushed my ass backward and arched my back. He reached from behind and brushed over my breasts until his hands slid down to my hips. I felt him adjust himself, and I lifted my ass a bit because in the dim light he’d positioned himself against my asshole instead of my pussy, but I learned very quickly he hadn’t made a mistake. He thrust forward, and I lost the last aspect of my sexuality that was virgin. I felt an enormous burst of shock run over me, and I couldn’t breathe for a moment.
He wasted no time and just began moving his hips, pushing in and out of me with the same assured forcefulness he’d displayed with my throat. I turned my head to tell him it hurt and he needed to stop, but I realized as I turned my head that I wasn’t hurting. There was a bit of discomfort, but it had more to do with the sudden and unexpected feeling of fullness. So, instead of telling him to stop, I breathed out, “Oh God. I’ve never done this before.”
He stopped, his cock deep in my ass, and asked, “Do you want me to stop?”
“No,” I whispered. “God no.” As the words came out, I realized I meant them. The feeling was new and strange, but it was also wonderful, and it was so out of character for me that I felt a perverse and slutty thrill. I was having anal sex! Me, the good girl. Me, the contemplative and overly-analytical smart girl. I was doing something that someone like me just didn’t do, and it made it somehow even sexier than if he’d pushed into where I was expecting.
That encouraged him, and he began moving faster, and each thrust somehow brought me closer to orgasm. His cock pushed in, and it was like he was in my pussy but softer somehow, like I was watching television with the volume just a little too low to hear properly. Each thrust was like a word spoken too softly. It suggested the orgasm would come but didn’t make it happen. I ended up pushing my ass back against him, trying to “up the volume” and that made it work. Suddenly, his thrusts in seemed to rub right over my sweet spot, but from a different perspective. Almost unexpectedly, my orgasm crashed over me, and I shook as I cried out with pleasure.
I slammed back against him and he increased the force of his thrusts until finally he cried out and slammed forward hard, pressing me against the wall as his cock swelled and he came. I felt him filling me, and though he was almost crushing me against the wall, I wiggled my ass and tried to increase the sensations for both of us. I felt dirty and slutty, and the feeling was wonderful. Eventually, it became too much for him, and he pulled out. The emptiness was overwhelming.
I turned around and threw my arms around him, pushing my mouth against his and savagely trying to consume him. He kissed back just as passionately and finally pulled away. In the dim light, I saw him start gathering clothes. “Leave them,” I said.
“What?”
“Leave them. I’m off tomorrow. That means we have hours before we’re done.”
The light was dim, but the smile on his face was still obvious. “No more issues with a relationship with the boss’ son?”
I giggled slightly. “Well, I’m not sure about the relationship yet, but the sex is very, very good.”
Christine Takes It in the Backdoor: A First Anal Sex Erotica Short
by Fran Diaz
All rights reserved Copyright 2012 by Night Passion Press
Cover Image by Lex Thorne
As first dates went, this one was the worst. To be absolutely honest, I hadn’t been expecting much from the double date. I’d only gone to do my cousin Beth a favor but that friend of her boyfriend who she had me meet…well, I won’t say that Peter Hickman was a bad man. With his athletic build and artful mop of brown curls, he was definitely easy on the eyes. But we were boring each other by the time the salad arrived, and before dinner was even over, I was positive that I didn’t like him.
Things came to a head when we were at a new club for after-dinner drinks and a bit of dancing. We started arguing about cars, of all things, and apparently I said something unbearably offensive because he stormed out, leaving us staring at his retreating back. Beth’s boyfriend rushed after him, and Beth turned to me with a worried look on her doll like face.
“I’m sorry about that, Christine,” she said. “He’s really a nice guy once you get to know him.”
“It’s not your fault.” I shrugged it off. “No wonder he needs you guys to set him up.”
“But it works both ways, you know.”
“What do you mean?” I asked, stopping with my drink halfway to my lips.
“Well, you weren’t exactly nice to him either.” Beth gave me a pointed look that made me feel guilty right down to my toes. “No wonder you need us to set you up.”
That comment hurt much more than I liked to admit, and I spent maybe a quarter of an hour being quiet and uncomfortable as Beth and her boyfriend tried to make conversation before deciding to just head on home.
Upon further reflection while I was alone and in bed, which is a terrible place to have reflections about your personality; I realized that, yeah, maybe I’d been a bit sharper and snarkier than I needed to be. That would have put anybody off, much less a stranger who didn’t know me from Eve. If I’d known Peter’s number, I’d have texted, or maybe even called, to apologize (just to apologize, mind you; it wasn’t as if my remorse had suddenly made him more attractive to me.)
Admittedly, his attractiveness was something that I had to seriously rethink when he showed up on my doorstep the next evening, carrying a bunch of flowers and what looked very much like pizza from my favorite takeout place. That, the memory of how I’d treated him last night, and the fact that I’d answered the door dressed in a T-shirt, hot pants, and nothing else had me blushing in embarrassment. I’d even taken off my makeup. My only consolation was that I had put my hair up in a ponytail so that it wasn’t a grand mess with blonde strands floating about all over the place.
“Hi,” said Peter before I could ask what he was doing there. “Look, I just wanted to say sorry for last night. I had a rotten day at work yesterday, and I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.”
“Yeah, well, I wasn’t exactly being Miss Congeniality either.” I crossed my arms over my breasts to hide my nipples. I was sure they were visible through the worn fabric. “I’m sorry too. But you could have just called, you know.”
He gave me a sheepish grin that suited his boyish face impeccably. “Somehow I didn’t think you’d want to answer a call from me. I just hope that you don’t think I’m some sort of stalker for coming here. I, uh, got your address from Beth, by the way. She gave me an earful for being a complete dick last night.”
I had to laugh at the mental picture of sweet little Cousin Beth castigating him. “She got on my case too, you k
now. A little. I was going to ask her for your number.”
“So you wouldn’t mind starting over?”
I shook my head. “Nope. Not at all. Why don’t you come in?”
I broke open a bottle of wine as my contribution to the apology, and we had the pizza on my living room sofa, while a neutral wildlife program—I think it was about zebras—played on the TV, just for background noise while we talked. I found that, as long as we kept away from the subject of motorized vehicles, Peter and I actually had a lot in common. I got so comfortable with his company that I eventually let go of the throw pillow I was using to cover my chest. And I didn’t even stop him when, much later, he leaned in to give me a kiss.
I couldn’t say that I was surprised, and I made no move to resist as his large hands cupped my head and pulled off the elastic band that held my ponytail. We had been inching closer together for the better part of an hour, and our conversation had definitely started to get sexual undertones (and overtones too, to be absolutely honest, and all the other tones in between). What did surprise me was the firm insistence of his hard, hot mouth. Peter kissed as though he was hungry for it, and his tongue pushed its way past my lips and teeth to curl and twist wickedly in a way that promised he could easily be doing so much more. When he finally broke away, I was gasping for breath, and desire and arousal were curling, coiling low in my belly. I hadn’t been expecting sex, but I wasn’t about to object.
“Bedroom?” I suggested.
“Too far away,” he countered, planting his lips on the pulse point in my neck and sucking hard. I gave a little yelp when he bit down on my skin. That was going to leave a mark for sure, high up on my neck for everyone to see. I’d have to wear a scarf to cover that up.
“No, it’s not.” I swung my legs up onto his lap and put my arms around his neck to pull him closer.
“But I want you here,” murmured Peter, his words warm and moist against my ear. “”I want you now.”
And to show that he meant it, he slid a hand down the front of my shorts. I wasn’t wearing panties, and he found my clit with practiced ease. His touch was rough for all of that, as if he was trying to rush me into climax, and the nerve endings firing off in my groin barely managed to stay on the right side of painful. In just a few strokes, he managed to reduce me to a shaking, babbling mess.
I remembered his temper from last night, how it had flared up all of a sudden after an evening of surpassing blandness, as though he was keeping all of that passion just under his skin. And I wondered, as his lips found mine again for another forceful, consuming kiss, if he’d go about sex in the same fierce, impatient way as well.
Evidently, it was. I gasped into his mouth when he pushed two fingers into my pussy with no warning, no ceremony. He went on kissing me as he fucked me with his fingers, scissoring and crooking them inside me, and hitting the right spot with delirious accuracy. I tried to hold out, to ride the sensation for as long as I could, but there was too much going on for me to resist: his fingers deep inside me while the heel of his palm pressed against my clit, his wicked, clever mouth trailing kisses down my jaw, and his other hand tweaking my nipple through the thin cloth of my shirt.
I started cumming, whimpering as Peter continued to finger me through it, biting at my breasts through my shirt. It had happened quickly, and it was over just as fast. On a scale of one to ten, I thought, leaning back against my throw pillows, it was probably a six. Or a seven, to be generous. Nice enough, but not earth-shattering. It was only the beginning, though. Peter was just getting started. He withdrew his hand from my pussy, and yanked my hot pants off, wiping his fingers off on them before tossing them aside. I doubted I’d see them again that night.
“There’s no hurry, you know,” I told him, hiking the hem of my T-shirt up just enough so that I could get a hand under there to play with my tits.
He paid scant attention to the show I was trying to put on for him, however. He had stood up, and was shedding his clothes as if they burned him. His shoes had been toed off, and socks, shirt, jeans, and blue cotton Y-fronts followed in short order. I watched as every inch of skin as it came exposed, drinking in the sight of his strong arms, the lean, hard lines of his chest and stomach, the delectable curve of his ass, and his hard, veined cock, already leaking precum from the slit. I’d had no idea that he was already so aroused, and the thought of that thick length pushing into my pussy made me shiver with pleasure.
“And to think this could have happened last night,” I said, tugging my shirt off.
“It would have been angry sex, if it’d happened last night,” he said, sitting back down beside me, legs apart to accommodate his hard-on. “God, Christine, you were so maddening, I’d have taken you so fucking hard,” he went on, twining his fingers through my tangled hair, gentle at first before giving it a rough tug. “I’d have made you scream.”
“You still can, you know.” I dipped my head to lick his left nipple, and he groaned, apparently sensitive there. Grinning at my discovery, I redoubled my efforts, sucking and rolling it with my tongue while my fingers worked on the other one until they were both hard and peaked.
One of his hands was in my hair, and the other was over the hand I had on his chest, keeping it there as my fingers pinched at the little nub of flesh. He didn’t stop me when I moved my mouth downward, murmuring promises and endearments against the planes of his belly, lapping at the little hollow of his navel, but he took me by the shoulders before I could reach his cock, guided me up and onto his lap.
I could tell what he wanted, but I decided to tease him first – he had, after all, been pretty rude last night, and, while it hadn’t been bad, I didn’t appreciate being rushed into my first orgasm of the night. I scooted forward, trapping his cock between us so that it smeared streaks of pre-come onto his belly. He made a frustrated noise as I gave him no more stimulation than that, laying light kisses on his neck and dipping my tongue into the hollow of his collarbone. He shifted his hips beneath me impatiently as if that could coax me onto his cock, and I bit his shoulder, just where his clavicle ended and almost hard enough to break the skin.
“Minx!” he shouted, rolling the shoulder back and away from me, examining it for traces of blood. There weren’t any, and I laughed at his consternation – at least until he retaliated with a sucking bite on the upper curve of my right breast.
“Aren’t we a pair?” I murmured, cupping my breast up and forwards to survey what he’d done. There was an angry red mark there, and I suspected that I’d have to avoid low necklines for a couple of days. As if in apology, Peter gave the spot a soft, lingering kiss, his tongue darting between his lips for just a fraction of a second.
“Now we’re even,” he said, running his hands down my ribs.
“Not quite.” I lifted myself off of his lap, and took his cock, guiding him to my entrance. It twitched in my hand as I let the head rub against my moist labia, and Peter gave a long, low moan as I sank myself onto his shaft. When it was all inside me – and he had me so fucking full, it was incredible - I paused, just a little, to give myself time to get used to the substantial girth.
But Peter didn’t want to wait. He grabbed me and we twisted, rolling towards the back of the sofa with him on top of me. His cock went in deep, faster than I expected, and, still sensitive from his fingering, I did scream as he began to fuck me, gripping the arm of the sofa above my head for balance.
Don’t get me wrong, though. Sure, it wasn’t exactly what I wanted, but it was amazing. I didn’t need to ask him to fuck me harder, because he was already going so hard that his hips and his balls met my ass with a solid, resounding smack every single time he thrust in, and I couldn’t ask for him to give me more because if there was any more to be had, it would probably have broken me. I was vaguely aware of the sofa shaking beneath us, and I have no idea what I was saying, or if I was even saying anything coherent at all. All that mattered, all I could think of was the slide of Peter’s cock inside my pussy, and my hands scrabbled bli
ndly at the rough upholstery, on his back, his arms for purchase, for something to ground me before I let myself go for a second time.
He let go of the sofa arm—I think he meant to touch some part of me, I don’t know what—and he lost his balance. We tumbled off the sofa and onto the carpet, and I ended up on top of a dazed-looking Peter, with his cock still inside me. Taking a leaf from his book, I didn’t give him time to recover. I started to ride him, straddling him and working my hips to bounce up and down his cock, breasts jiggling with every move I made. I had one hand on his sweat-slick chest for balance, and he caught my other one and brought it to his lips, kissing and sucking at my curled fingers. I was close, and I knew it.
“Oh God, Peter,” I panted, my fingers digging into the skin of his chest. “God, I think I’m going to come. I’m – going – to – oh!”
I yelled, and my hips ground against his, as I tried to get more of his dick inside me as I came. It was better than the first had been, and I went on riding him as my climax wracked through me, unable to stop until I was done. It was, I decided, pushing my sweaty hair out of my face, a definite nine, or even a nine point five.
I was beaming, lost in a post-orgasmic haze, and I was about to tell Peter that it had been amazing and fantastic and that I wanted to do it again with him, and often, when I realized that something was amiss. Peter’s cock was still inside me, and still hard. I couldn’t tell if he’d even come close to ejaculating at all.
“Oh,” I said softly, afraid that I’d disappointed him.
“Sorry, Christine,” he grunted. “I need a little more.”
“What can I do?” I lifted myself off of his cock, and settled on my haunches, somewhat gingerly, next to him on the carpet. I was ready to suck him off, to let him rub his dick between my breasts, even to let him go on fucking my thoroughly used pussy for as long as he needed – anything to get him off.