Maybe Mandy
Kinky Carnival Games
By: Chris Genovese
Maybe Mandy: Kinky Carnival Games
1st Edition
Copyright © 2015 by Chris Genovese
Published by Erotic Mayberry Publishing
Written by Chris Genovese
Cover created by Chris Genovese
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof
may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
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Table of Contents
Act 1 – The Name’s Mandy
Act 2 – The Game’s Randy
Act 3 – The Flame’s Fandy
Dedication
I’ve been writing for a long time and I’ve been searching for an audience ever since I began. Writing erotica is something fairly new to me and I just have to say that I’ve found some of the warmest, friendliest, caring readers and some of the coolest author friends since switching to this genre. You guys are amazing. I wish all work could be this fun and fulfilling.
As always, I need to thank my family, my wife and kids, who allow me to spend so much time at the computer. If I didn’t have the time to write and the time to communicate with my fans, I’d fall apart.
*Mandy is a fictional character who fully understands the need to use protection during sex. She ALWAYS uses contraceptives. If it is not mentioned in the story it is only to prevent the slowing down of the story or interruption to the fantasy element. Have fun and be safe!*
Act 1 – The Name’s Mandy
I’d never ridden anyone on a Ferris wheel before that night. My fear of heights and my nails digging into his back only intensified the moment.
Let me back up and start from the beginning.
I love sex…when it’s with the right person. This doesn’t make me a whore, right? I think it makes me normal. And back then I hadn’t been with the right person since Mark so I was seriously missing it.
The day started like any other, only hornier. I’ve found that after a relationship, I’m good for a while. I can hang in there. As my friend Ben always says in his slightly clogged-nose, David Schwimmer sounding voice, “Freeball it for awhile, Mandy, just let the balls hang free, no constraints. Relationships are overrated.”
I’m capable of that—freeballing it—temporarily. Here’s a play by play of how my “no constraints” lifestyle usually goes.
At about the month mark I feel a little bit lonely. You know what I mean, the “that must be nice” internal dialogue when I see a couple holding hands at the mall. Romantic comedies make me kind of sad, but I like to watch ‘em.
Seeing Keira Knightley stand there unresponsive in Love Actually while her suitor waits outside her front door with that freakin’ sexy puppy dog look on his face and the sign that reads: To me, you are PERFECT. That bothers me a little bit. But I’ll be okay.
At the two-month mark I start to miss the feeling of a passionate kiss. I’ve always liked making out, the grind of cloth on cloth, a man’s jeans pressing hard against the crotch of mine. I enjoy knowing the next step leads to penetration, but also knowing that I have the power to stop it from going that far.
TV shows bother me a bit, especially the hospital dramas where everyone on staff is hooking up in either surgical rooms or bedpan closets. I’ve only had one hot doctor in my whole life and he was my pediatrician. I’m not a perv. I was sixteen for cryin’ out loud. Get your mind out of the gutter.
On second thought, keep it there. You might need your galoshes to make it through this story.
Finally, at the three-month mark, I want to fuck. Just throwin’ it out there. I wouldn’t say it out loud unless I was hanging with my girls, but it’s the truth. This is the stage where I find myself late-night surfing Cinemax, fast forwarding DVDs of Sex and the City in desperate search for the “Samantha” parts, and contemplating ordering porn on pay-per-view. I wouldn’t even hesitate if it wouldn’t show up on my cable bill.
I can’t be alone in this. I’ve talked it over with my two best friends, Susie and Jill, and we’ve come to the conclusion that any girl newly single starts to seriously miss pulse-pounding, clit-tingling, shaft-riding sex right around the three-month mark.
If you find me vulgar, you should back off now, ‘cause this is going to get intense. I’m about to explain one of the most riveting nights of my life and I don’t feel like holding back. After all, this is the night that changed me. For the better? I don’t know. For the worse? Maybe. But it was definitely a pivotal point in becoming the “New Mandy.”
Still there? Good. Let me explain how it happened. As I said before, the day started like any other, but I was heading into the fifth post-relationship month. I went to the beach early that morning with my roommate, Susie, and her boyfriend, Vince. They’re both surfers and I just like to jog. I was taking a break when Vince came out of the water and lay down on the sand. I saw him but went back to stretching, legs open out, my head tilted back.
“Hamstrings again?” I heard the familiar raspy voice of Vince call out.
I lifted my head to see him staring at me. Vince is a good-looking guy, the typical surfer with long hair and an unshaven face. Kind of a big nose, but a smile that outshines the schnoz. His grin was directed at me, which you’d think would make for an uncomfortable moment, but something about him always cut out all awkwardness. He was like a sexy stepbrother or something.
“You know, Mandy, you are smokin’ hot,” he said.
I returned my gaze to the sky not wanting him to see me blush. I was known for my rosy cheeks and got made fun of whenever I was embarrassed. This was sure to be one of those times.
“I’ve been talkin’ to Susie and I think she might be down for…”
“Not gonna happen, Vince,” I said with a snigger.
He’d been trying to hook up a threesome forever. I finally felt the shame drain from my cheeks and looked over to see he’d turned to face me and was sitting with his knees up. Through his board shorts I could see the soft, pillow like bulge of his balls.
“Mandy,” he said. “It could be really fun. Just fun. No strings.”
If this had been the first time we’d had this discussion, and if I hadn’t known him since college, I surely would’ve been offended. Instead it was just normal. As normal as him leaving the toilet seat up every time he visited our apartment. Just an everyday nuisance.
Behind him, Susie was paddling out in the water, waiting for her chance at the next wave.
Vince cleared his throat and when I glanced at him, he reached down and adjusted himself, purposely grabbing his semi-erect cock with his whole hand. It was wider than I’d expected…not that I’d spent a lot of time expecting.
But damn, it’s big. Nice. Now I see what all the moaning is about.
He laughed and I realized I was gawking. Nothing brings you back to reality like the realization that you were just eye fucking your best friend’s boyfriend and he caught you doing it.
And I knew I was blushing. I could feel my cheeks start to burn again.
Vince laughed.
“The offer’s always on the table,” he said as he turned back to his girlfriend on the water.
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. How embarrassing. And yes, it hit me again that I needed to get fucked. And knowing that Susie and Vince were going to have sex sometime that day bothered me a little bit
. I wasn’t jealous, not of their relationship. I just wished it were me that would be hooking up later at our apartment or maybe even in the car. Knowing them, it might even happen right there on the secluded beach. Wouldn’t be the first time.
Susie and Vince were pros at the bikini-to-the-side, towel tickle. That’s what I called it. The towel tickle. They’d have a towel draped over them and would play around as if just joking and tickling each other. Anyone who didn’t know them might not realize what was going on under there, but I knew Susie’s eyes-rolling-back expression wasn’t her attempt to hold back laughter and the ape-like noise Vince made wasn’t the tickle monster.
“I love her you know?” Vince announced.
“I know, Vince. She knows too.”
“I just don’t want you to think…”
“Vince, you’re a horn ball, but you’re not a cheater. I know.”
“Yeah. Hey, you planning to go to the fair tonight?”
The fair. I hadn’t been to a fair in years. Aside from the funnel cakes there was little reason for my attendance. I hated long lines and didn’t care too much for heights so it was pretty much pointless.
“I’ll probably just hang at the house,” I said.
“Bullshit,” he called out. “You’re goin’ and I’m bringing my buddy Braden.”
“Braden?”
I hadn’t heard of this buddy. I knew all of his friends. Most were either burnout surfers or brain-dead players. He’d hooked me up with a friend once. The guy’s name was Phil. He’s the reason I made the rule that I’d no longer date guys whose names were four-letter words.
He was a wimp in the sheets, a lousy lay. When we broke up I told him he should join the Amish. He’d already grown the funky beard and was as boring as could be. I bought him the hat for Valentine’s Day. He didn’t appreciate the joke. It wasn’t one. So we stopped seeing each other.
“I told you, no more Phils,” I warned.
The sun was starting to beat down and I knew if I was going to finish my jog I’d need to get going.
“No, this guy’s different,” he said as I stood and did one final stretch of my calves.
“Different how?”
“Different as in he actually has a decent job, has a nice car, and is from out of town.”
“Oh great. You mean he’s perfect for a long distance relationship?”
“Are you looking for a relationship, because…no offense Mandy but you were just staring at my Johnson.”
I gasped and put a hand to my chest. I had been staring, and I knew he’d seen me, but that’s one of those things that should never be said out loud. Isn’t there an unwritten rule about that or something? No? Cause there should be.
“I know you don’t want me,” he said with a laugh.
He stood and mimicked me stretching. He reached down and grabbed his dick again, adjusting it.
Oh my God, I looked at it again.
And he knew it.
“But you clearly need to get laid.”
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.
“Nothing to be ashamed about,” he said. “Everyone needs to get laid from time to time. I mean, hell, if I don’t get it once every couple of days I have to go rub one off.”
“Oh please,” I said.
Telling me about his masturbation habits was finally going a bit too far. He just shrugged and laughed.
“Braden will pick you up at eight.”
“Vince, if this guy shows up at my house at eight, I’m gonna flip.”
Vince walked away singing like a ridiculous schoolboy. “Mandy’s got a date. Mandy’s got a date.”
And there I was lying on my bed in a towel, fresh out of the shower, looking at my closet and trying to imagine what I might possibly wear to go to the book store, because we all know how fashionable one needs to be when surrounded by paperbacks and dust jackets. My eyes were bouncing back and forth between a black top with spaghetti straps and a cute pink sweater—will it be smoldering or freezing in the bestseller aisles—when I heard the first traces of their whoopee next door.
It wouldn’t last long, usually no longer than twenty minutes or so, but Susie always seemed really satisfied.
“No, here, the clasp is in the front,” I heard Susie say with a hint of annoyance in her voice.
Ha, been there!
I realized I had my hand raised as if waiting for a high five, what a dork.
“Oh shit,” Susie called out. “Uh huh, uh huh, yeah…”
She always sounded like a porn star and I wondered if she really needed to say those things.
Do I do that?
I didn’t think I did.
“Uh huh, slowly baby…wait…slowly…uh huh…ahh, yes…”
No, I most definitely do not.
I stood, almost without realizing it, and made my way to the wall that separated our rooms. I listened intently, so keenly that I’m pretty sure I would’ve put a glass up to the wall the way kids do in movies if I weren’t too lazy to go out to the kitchen.
“Damn right,” Vince said.
I had to stifle my laughter. I swear if I’d been drinking something it would’ve shot out my nose. It was one of those unexpected chortles. A Vince-ism. Damn right, like he’d just proven a theory he’d been trying to convince her about all day.
Then the talking stopped. And it was just heavy breathing and panting. It was nice. It was sexy. It was a turn on. I leaned back against the wall and listened.
I could hear Susie’s whines, just soft whimpers, not the fake ones like before. These were real, feel-good sighs.
With my eyes closed, I imagined my last time with Mark. The day before I caught him with the other girl.
No that visual’s not gonna work.
So I did something I’d surprisingly never done before. I just imagined Vince and Susie. It wasn’t hard to do with the sounds they were making. They were there, right on the other side of the wall, and from the stories she’d told me he probably had her bent over, licking her pussy right now from behind as he teased her puckered ass with one finger. That was usually how he got it started.
I felt an ache in my gut that traveled down to my inner thighs and stopped somewhere in my clenched ass. I’d been horny before but I don’t remember ever feeling a yearning like this without being touched. As I adjusted my standing position, the towel swayed and the fabric brushed against my swelling clit and it was like someone had suddenly sucked it between his lips and let it go.
Holy shit. How did I do that?
I tried to do it again on purpose but it wasn’t the same.
I needed to be touched by someone, by something. I just needed to be touched so bad. I was wet and getting wetter as I heard Susie’s soft moans turn to louder whines. She was never worried about people hearing her. And that was clearly evident now as she cried out. I envied her ability to just let go and be pleasured with no restraints.
Vince had moved on. That wasn’t the cry of someone being licked. That was penetration. He’d shoved his way inside her. He’d buried that gigantic cock I’d seen at the beach today deep inside her. Again, I envied her.
God, I needed to be touched. Not by a towel but by a warm body.
And then I was being touched.
I was doing the touching. Not vigorous, lesbian sex tape kind of rubbing, but just three fingers running over my mound of trimmed hair, the stubble leading my way down to my clit. I found it, tender and waiting, yearning for my touch. I tapped one finger softly against it, feeling it stick against my fingertip as I yanked free and tapped again. Each time it stuck and came free I felt a jolt of electricity run through my body.
Stick, release. Stick, release. And then I was getting wetter and the sticking stopped and I was just dabbing my finger into a pool of my sex, my dripping wet pussy.
I moved my finger around in a circular motion and closed my eyes. To the sound of Vince fucking my best friend next door, I moved to the beat of their rhythm. When they sped up, I worked harder. Whe
n they slowed down, I softened up.
I thought of Vince’s invitation. He wanted me there in the next room with them and from what he’d told me earlier, Susie was willing to share him. I dropped my towel, arched my back, and really got into it, rubbing my open palm against my pussy lips, pushing so the pressure would sink into my clit and all the way to my pubic bone.
With each pump of my hand, the friction threatened to send me over the edge.
I’d never been able to make myself come with just my fingers, but the wanting that had been building up inside me was about to overflow. I was hornier than I’d ever been. And I was close already.
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