by Various
‘Your ass is excited,’ Valon hissed. ‘I see your hole pucker and beg.’
Mirjam’s stomach clenched. She knew what came next, and she recognised its inevitability, but the idea made her cringe. ‘Please don’t hurt me,’ she yelped. The statement itself made her skin tingle.
‘Don’t worry,’ Skyggen said, petting Mirjam’s arm. ‘It hurts at first, but you’ll get over it.’ When Mirjam pressed her nails into Skyggen’s skin, the shadow woman chuckled, ‘Relax, sweetie. It’ll be all right.’
Valon pulled his cock from Mirjam’s pussy. When he set his tip at the entrance to her asshole, it was still dripping with her juices. Her stomach felt fluttery and her legs went weak, but Skyggen held on tight. Valon reached inside her snatch. With two fingers, he brought out more juice and slathered her asshole with the stuff. She felt slick to the touch. As he pressed his cockhead past her assring, Mirjam grasped Skyggen’s hands. She tried to contain her scream, but she simply couldn’t. It hurt. It hurt, but to an acceptable degree, like getting spanked again and again – the site was sore, but it was impossible to stop. She knew, as in all things, if he kept going the pain would subside. Life was like that.
Her ass blazed as he entered her. He eased in at first. Yes, he was forceful, but he wasn’t rough about it. At first. Once he’d sunk his cock insider her hole to a degree that pleased him, he eased it out again. She clawed at Skyggen’s hands, but Skyggen only smiled fondly at the view. Valon pushed his palms flat against Mirjam’s ass cheeks before pushing them apart. She turned her head to see what he was doing. The instant she saw her body in that state, with her cheeks splayed and a firm cock between them, she no longer feared pain. Pain would heal. She wanted that cock inside her ass.
She bucked back as he thrust forward. ‘Oh, so you like this, do you?’ Valon growled. His voice was sexy in a reviling sort of way. She wished his voice could fuck her cunt while his cock pelted her ass. Why couldn’t she have everything at once? Christ, she didn’t even have a shadow any more – she deserved something! But her pussy sat longing while Valon went at her asshole. That empty space ached with jealousy of the crack that was too full, and soon to get fuller.
From the tone of his moans and sensual mutterings, Mirjam could tell Valon was going to come. Though he was the first actual dictator she’d encountered, she knew his type. He would pull out, leaving her broken and sore and full of come. Even so, she’d have a smile on her face. She was smiling now, in fact, through the pain and the hunger. Skyggen mirrored her expression of sheer joy. Mirjam screamed in agony and bliss, urging her ass back against Valon’s prick as he reamed her. It was horrible and it was so, so good. She pushed back against him. He never eased up once he was into his groove. Valon kept at her, pressing his thumbs deep into her ass cheeks while he dug his fingers into her hips.
With an explosion of approval, Valon lifted Mirjam clear off her feet and plunged his cock deep inside her ass. Clinging to his prick, she shrieked and pressed her eyes tight shut. Held aloft by Valon’s strong hands, her feet dangled over the floor. She started to slip. She tried to dig her fingernails deeper into Skyggen’s hands, but she somehow lost them. When she opened her eyes, Mirjam found herself clawing at the bedcovers. Had Skyggen abandoned her? Or was she hiding under the bed?
Setting Mirjam’s feet on the floor, Valon pulled out, but he didn’t leave. He took a few steps to the side as Mirjam rose upright and gazed across the room. Now she could see. She could see Skyggen’s brightly-coloured clothing strewn across the floor on the other side of the bed.
‘Look up,’ Valon said, pointing to the cream plaster. He seemed in awe. ‘Look at the wall.’
As she did, Mirjam realised that, for the first time since she’d come to this country on holiday, she cast a shadow. It wasn’t perfectly black, she noticed, but a shade of dusty grey. It was taller than Mirjam, and its reach exceeded her grasp. ‘Skyggen,’ she mouthed. The word was silent.
‘So you were telling the truth after all,’ Valon mused, watched her naked body against the fire. ‘And Skyggen was the liar.’
Mirjam reflected for a moment before answering, ‘I suppose so.’
When she spotted Skyggen’s eccentric hat on the floor, she was overtaken with glee. Rushing past Valon on the pads of her feet, Mirjam picked it up and set it on her head like a vintage costume. A keen grin broke across her lips as she turned to look at Valon. He’d lost his fiancée to Mirjam; he’d need a new one. He’d need a woman who could fill her shoes. ‘Well?’ Mirjam asked, cocking Skyggen’s feathered hat. ‘What do you think?’
No Running, No Petting
by Janine Ashbless
‘I’ve got one,’ says Vittor as I pause at the breakfast bar to collect the glasses he’s polishing. ‘Room 406. Over there – the blue shirt, by the window.’
I look across the hotel dining room, which is mostly empty now that the second sitting have finished their breakfasts. The man Vittor has indicated is drinking coffee. He’s tall, and a bit older than our usual type. Late forties maybe, with swept-back silvery hair and gold-rimmed glasses. Older, but really handsome and trim. He’s with a blond woman of a similar age.
‘Are you sure?’ I ask.
‘Swedish. He’s here with his wife, but she goes out all day on the coach tours while he sits and reads. I spoke with him yesterday. Gave him the old wink-and-grin. He was jumpy, but flattered.’
So he should be. Vittor is simply gorgeous: tall and broad and built, with big dark fuck-me eyes you could just fall into. His immaculately mowed stubble starts at his neck and ends at the crown of his head. He’s mostly gay, and I’m mostly not, and we both go for straight guys.
Which is why I’m the bait.
I nod. ‘He’s cute.’
I check our man out later on, lingering near Room 406 with my trolley full of sugar sachets and coffee cups and tiny bottles of shampoo. As he comes out of the lift and heads my way I bend over to root around in the bottom tray, my arse in the air. The hotel uniform has a tight skirt, at least the way I wear mine, with a split up the back that shows a surprising amount of thigh if you get it right. A glance over my shoulder tells me that he’s looking. Staring, actually. I give him a cheeky smile and a bit of a wiggle, and he nearly collides with his doorframe.
But Vittor plans that we make our real move on the hotel roof garden. The hunter has been studying his prey. Room 406 goes up there every day after his wife’s left on the coach to see another bit of Malta. He swims twenty lengths of the pool, then sits under the vine trellis and looks through papers. He makes a lot of notes and corrections. I’ve seen the books in his room: they look like engineering texts to me. Every couple of hours he gets up, swims some more, orders a light beer or a juice at the bar, then does some more work. That’s his day until his wife gets back.
The really great thing about the roof garden is that there’s almost no one there. The pool dates from before the hotel expanded and there’s a much bigger one now, with whirlpools and slides, down on the terrace. And we’re on the beachfront anyway: plenty of golden sand and blue Mediterranean. Who’d want to hang out by that small pool up top, all alone?
The other great thing about the roof is that no one can see in.
When I go up that day, Room 406 is already on his sun-lounger, tapping a pencil against his upper lip as he reads his papers. Vittor is waiting behind the bar, ready to lock the stair door as I put on a distraction. I do my best: I’m wearing only a tiny bikini of brilliant yellow lycra. I know how it draws the eye. I’m short, but there are deep curves to my hips and arse and waist. I shake out my long dark hair and stride over to the pool, my breasts jiggling enticingly with every step.
I can feel his eyes on me. But at first I ignore him. I slip into the aquamarine water and do some lazy widths on my back, rolling every so often to show off my bum in its yellow thong. Whenever I put a hand on the pool edge and look covertly in his direction, pretending to catch my breath, Room 406 is watching me.
Then Vittor
comes out and joins in, stripped down to his red trunks. We make a helluva contrast; him so big and me so little, but both of us bronzed and glistening, both young and beautiful. We giggle and play together, splashing and kissing. Maybe you remember those old signs they used to have around public poolsides – No running, no petting, no ducking –? Well, we break all those rules. I wriggle out of Vittor’s arms and haul myself out of the pool, squealing as he chases me to try and swat my arse.
Ever seen a dog chase something past another dog? Dog number two can’t help but join in. I run in a little too close to our engineer and then stumble, tripping into him: he puts out his arms to catch me. Part of him thinks he’s saving me from a fall, but I know what his underlying instinct is.
‘Sorry!’ I gasp, landing in his lap. I’ve been told his English is good. ‘Oh, I’m sorry! I’ve got you all wet!’
I’ve got him all hard too. It’s not subtle, I know, but what man likes subtle? He’s got shorts on and his legs are tanned and muscular – I just bet he cycles and skis to work at his factory or his university or whatever it is back home. But he’s got a stiffy under those shorts and it’s poking me.
Vittor stands a few metres back, grinning.
‘That’s OK,’ Room 406 says hoarsely, his hands still on my waist.
‘What’s your name?’
‘Rolf.’
‘Hi, Rolf. I’m Lena. And that’s Vittor.’
‘He is your boyfriend?’ Rolf is a bit confused, and a bit nervous.
I giggle and shrug, which is about as accurate as it gets. ‘Want to join us in the pool?’
He hesitates, then nods. He can’t stop looking at the pool water beaded on my breasts, and my nipples poking up through the yellow bikini fabric. I give him a good flash of my arse as I stand, though, and lead the way to the water’s edge, barely giving him time to shed his shirt and glasses. ‘First one to catch me ...’ I call, and dive.
They’re both in the water seconds after me: I hear the twin whumphs underwater as they strike. Then the chase begins. We’re all three good swimmers and it’s fast and fun; I twist and plunge, skimming past their fingertips and scooting between their legs. Vittor hardly has to hold back to make sure Rolf wins. But our man catches me at last and grabs me about the waist. I’m gasping and giggling. He’s suddenly self-conscious all over again, not sure what prize to claim, so I plant a kiss warmly upon his lips.
Vittor steps up behind me. They’re both tall enough to stand on the bottom of the pool. As Rolf and I grin at each other, Vittor puts a hand to the nape of my neck. Lycra strings tug and my bikini top falls loose, baring my breasts. I shriek, trying in vain to cover myself: it’s all part of the fun.
At once, Vittor’s hands circle in from behind to cup my breasts, lifting my upper torso clear of the water to present me, like a gift. He’s got big hands but my tits are bigger, lush and dark-nippled. Rolf’s jaw drops.
‘You win,’ says Vittor. ‘Go on.’
Rolf puts both hands on my breasts, rubbing his palms over my nipples, testing their resilience and firmness as a good engineer should. I squeak and coo in appreciation. Then he rolls them deliciously between his fingers and pinches them until he ascertains the point at which I cry out and wrap my thighs about his, underwater, sliding my skin over his.
‘Oh,’ he says in that cute Swedish accent. ‘You have very beautiful tits.’
‘Come over to the steps,’ I whisper, and as Vittor releases me I slip out from between the two of them and scull backward to the shallow end of the pool where broad tiled steps ascend. I sit on one that’s barely lapped by the water and pat it invitingly, shaking out my wet hair. They’ve followed me eagerly. Rolf sits himself down at my side; at once Vittor flanks him, grinning. To distract Rolf from feeling too nervous, I tug the bow at my hip and my bikini bottom falls away to reveal my perfectly shaved split.
‘Wow,’ he says, which makes me giggle. I kiss him and lay my hand on the front of his swimming shorts. His erection makes a big lump under the khaki fabric, and as I find and grasp it Vittor undoes the knot of the drawstring holding those pants up. We’ve gone much quieter all of a sudden: less laughing and more hungry, anticipatory glances. Rolf’s breath is coming short and shallow. I work his cock out into the open.
Now that is a fine engineering erection. ‘Wow yourself,’ I say, impressed, and kneel up, stroking his length. ‘Do you want to touch my pussy, Rolf?’
‘I think you will get into trouble,’ he says, but he slips a hand between my legs. He’s a gentleman: he doesn’t plunge in but strokes gently instead, and I purr.
‘No trouble,’ Vittor laughs. ‘My father owns this hotel.’ Which is why we’ve been getting away with this all summer, of course. Vittor is supposed to be learning the hotel trade. I’m not sure that was supposed to include fondling the guests’ ball-sacs, but Rolf only quivers and makes no protest.
‘Oh, I see,’ he says.
‘You want to see?’ Vittor pulls down the front of his own trunks, manhandling his cock and balls into view. They’re as beautifully built and groomed as the rest of his body. Biting his upper lip, Rolf gamely takes that thick length in his palm. I’m guessing it’s the first time he’s groped another man’s cock. Or had a guy and a girl stroke him together – my hand is on his shaft and Vittor is caressing his balls.
‘Oh this is nice.’ I kiss Rolf again, squirming my tongue into his mouth. He’s so well-mannered and submissive that I want to bite him, but I hold back. ‘Now kiss Vittor.’
‘Oh but I don’t kiss–’ he protests weakly. But I feel the surge in his cock.
‘Kiss him and I’ll suck your dick.’
He practically lunges at Vittor’s mouth.
I don’t want to lose Rolf’s hand on my pussy, which is warming up nicely now and getting no drier despite being out of the pool. So I back my arse up the stairs and crouch down with my head low. The guys are chasing each other’s tongues very nicely as I drop to take Rolf’s lovely stiff cock between my lips. He tastes of chlorine at first, then pre-come. I can see Vittor’s hand rolling his balls just beyond my nose. I’m starting to ache with lust. My bum is pointed at the beautiful blue sky and Rolf is patting and spreading my pussy lips. Out of the corner of my eye I can see his other hand squeezing Vittor’s swollen shaft.
Then Vittor comes down, grinning, to join me. Our tongues chase each other all over Rolf’s cock, up and down, kissing and sucking, and he makes a noise like he’s just discovered paradise. His fingers slip inside me.
I lift my head, breathless, allowing Vittor to grab the bouncing shaft all for himself. ‘Will you lick my pussy for me, Rolf?’ I ask.
‘Yes!’
I shift astride him as he lies back on the steps. It’s not comfortable for any of us, but who the hell cares? I’m still facing down his body as I settle my pussy over his mouth, so I get the best possible view: Rolf’s legs splayed in the turquoise pool water and Vittor’s mouth working hard on his cock.
This is what Vittor wants. He loves to suck other guys. He’s better than me, I have to admit, and judging by the muffled noises Rolf is making, our engineer is likely to blow his head gasket very soon. I wriggle harder onto his face, mashing my pussy onto his lips and his thrusting tongue. I pinch my own nipples. Pleasure is building inside me. My arse-cheeks shake. Rolf eats me with great skill and I’m glad now we’ve picked a man of experience because he’s so good that suddenly I’ve stopped worrying about suffocating the poor guy and I’m just grinding down on his face and squealing and coming and coming and coming ...
And he’s coming too because I see his hips buck and his cock ram right up into Vittor’s open throat and I hear the big man choking it all down.
As soon as my legs work I get off Rolf’s face and move down to meet Vittor. His lips are swollen and I kiss him greedily, searching out the flavour of the other man’s semen. Vittor’s cock is nearly purple with need. I wrap my fingers round his girth and stroke him off, slow and hard. He looks down at Rolf with his
smouldering dark eyes as he comes, though, spraying my belly and thighs with his lovely jizz.
Rolf has gone into shock. He just lies there staring. I’m not finished, not by a long way. I want to fuck him, and watch Vittor fucking him too, but we’ve found it’s best to leave them wanting more, first time. I lean over to brush Rolf’s lips with my own.
‘Tomorrow, Rolf, same time. Not here, though. Tomorrow we give you room service.’
Alive
by Clarice Clique
When the end of the world came there wasn’t much left we recognised. The landscape was barren, brown nothingness stretched further than the eye could see, towns and cities vanished into rubble, the skies were grey with no sign of birds or insects. What was left was the smell of his sex pushing into mine, the tenderness of his hands on my breasts, the sounds of our soft moans filling the empty air.
We survived because we’d been underground; the two of us on our own personal caving adventure, forcing our bodies into tighter and tighter spaces as if we were journeying backwards into the womb of mother Earth. When we emerged we stared around us, stared at each other and began to cry.
Later when the coldness of the night came we were still standing in the same spot, neither of us having spoken as if when the world had disappeared it’d taken all words with it. The sky darkened into a murky blue-black, if the moon was still out there it was hiding behind thick black clouds, nothing was left but shadows. It was then that we kissed.
Gently at first, our lips barely touching as if we still possessed the shy virgin bodies we had when we first met, but then the thing inside us, the anger, the fear, the hatred, the fear, the grief, the fear, burst free. I bit down on his lower lip until the warm blood flowed between our mouths. He put his hand around my throat and pushed me backwards. The breath struggled to fight its way out of my lungs. I smiled as my head pounded. He smiled back at me and released his grip. We pulled at zips and straps, shedding our clothes like excess skin, baring our flesh to the cold night air in defiance of life itself.