by Неизвестный
Curt, his cock now fully erect in his hand, hadn’t even noticed that Dylan moved to his side of the kitchen counter. Dylan put a hand on Curt’s chest, running the palm of his hand over both of Curt’s hard nipples, sensitive now beneath the cotton. Curt watched Dylan smile. “You’re my other lucky charm, Dyl,” Curt said. “Ellen’s my number one, and then there’s you.” Curt’s anger was gone, his frustration gone. The chocolates had managed to wrap his brain and boner in what felt like a surge of warm bath water.
Dylan took Curt’s cock from his hand and began a firmer, more serious tug. Curt closed his eyes. He loved the way Dylan touched him. He always had. Dylan placed soft kisses along his neck, his jaw line and chin, until Curt finally found his tongue in Dylan’s mouth, which tasted only slightly of the spices Mary had put on the roasted potatoes they had eaten for dinner. When Curt felt hands on his face, he opened his eyes and noticed that his cock sat heavy atop the bulge in Dylan’s cargo shorts. “Grab those chocolates, dude,” Dylan said. “I want to show those girls a good time.”
The chocolate slipped easily inside, Ellen’s cunt still warm and wet from her orgasm. Curt watched as it began to melt, the chocolate mixing with his wife’s juices, a slow drip down her pussy to her asshole. He licked, his tongue forcing the chocolate deeper inside her. Curt felt Ellen’s hands tighten in his short hair, although he knew it wasn’t him that excited her, but what she was watching: Mary sucking Dylan’s cock as he worked a dildo, shiny with lube, deep inside his ass.
This scene for Curtis was an old one—he had watched this countless times on Thursday nights—but, for Ellen, he had hoped it would tickle her fancy.
Curt let the chocolate slip out of Ellen’s cunt and into his mouth, this one with its own one-of-a-kind Ellen taste. He rolled it around his mouth with his tongue—Ellen watching, a small, dark smile on her lips—bit, and then swallowed before returning to properly clean his wife’s pussy. Ellen moaned, started saying “baby” so softly and so many times that Curtis looked up to check in with her. Ellen slid from the couch onto the floor with him, nestling against his chest.
Ellen whispered loudly, like a drunk, her mouth soft and wet against his chin, “Can you kiss Dylan?”
Curt smiled. “I can do more than kiss him, if you want to see.”
“He really likes things deep inside his ass,” she said, her eyes big, staring over Curt’s shoulder.
“He can fit almost anything in there,” Curt said. “In college, I used him as luggage.”
“Fuck you, dude,” Dylan said, but then the tone of his voice changed. “Oh fuck,” he said, soft and breathy. “Oh fuck, Mary!”
Curt turned to watch Mary jerking Dylan’s cock with a fast hand, her mouth open, tongue out to catch Dylan’s spunk. He was still working that dildo in his ass, in and out, almost as fast as Mary’s hand worked his cock. Curt knew that Dylan’s load would be huge. It always was when he had something that deep inside him.
Curt turned back to Ellen, who didn’t, who absolutely couldn’t, move her eyes away from Dylan and Mary. “Good,” he said. “Keep watching.”
When he turned again, Dylan let out a series of heavy, breathy roars, the dildo so deep in his ass that Curt could only see its base. Dylan’s head was back, like he awaited baptism, his free arm out for balance. Mary was still jerking him off with a ferocity that Curt knew Dylan loved. On her knees, she only smiled up at her husband now. Mary knew, as Curt did, that Dylan’s orgasm would be thunderous.
Curt noticed that the way Mary was jerking Dylan’s cock, the way she held him in her hand, that he’d probably hit the sliding glass door behind her, the one that led out to their wooded backyard. With a final grunt, Dylan brought his head forward and tucked his chin against his chest, shooting his load clear over Mary’s head and hitting not the door, but the tall, potted fern in the corner. Curt turned to see Ellen’s cheeks flushed, her brown eyes bright, the tiniest of smiles on her lips. He not-so-sneakily worked his hand between her legs to find her pussy hot and wet, and she jolted in his arms when he stroked her softly. Embarrassed, Ellen giggled against Curt’s shoulder.
Curt heard the familiar thud of Dylan’s dildo dropping from his ass to the carpet.
He pressed his mouth to Ellen’s ear, his cock hard against her stomach. Softly, he said, “What do you want, baby?”
Her response came quick and clear, loud enough for everyone to hear. “I need to get fucked. Like, right now.”
Everyone had moved to Dylan and Mary’s bedroom because much more comfortable space waited there, courtesy of the couple’s king-sized mattress. That, and Dylan needed to strap on Mary’s favorite dildo, but didn’t want to miss a second of Curt’s birthday party. Curt loved watching Dylan step into the pleather harness, fitting the black, seven-inch, silicone cock over his own spent, flaccid dick. In fact, Curt loved this so much that, from the mattress, Ellen had to stretch out a leg and push him toward her using the foot she had hooked along the back of his thigh. “Come on,” she said, rising to her elbows, only then distracting her husband who stood mesmerized, his cock out hard between the two of them, by Dylan fitting the straps over his hips.
With his focus finally away from Dylan, what Curtis found himself liking especially about the room change was that Mary and Ellen lay side by side on the bed. Mary, on her back with her chin tilted up, watched as her husband struggled to adjust his temporary replacement. Ellen had sat up, however, and now had Curt’s cock in her hand.
“Lie down,” Curt said, looking into Ellen’s big, brown eyes. “Go on. Lie down.”
Ellen brought her head back slowly, and Curt noticed the muscles flex at her core. Once Ellen settled again on the mattress, Mary reached over to take one of Ellen’s breasts in her hand, and Curt softly moaned as he watched Mary squeeze and release, squeeze and release, his wife’s most tender flesh. Even when he got on the bed, balancing on his knees as he spread his wife’s legs and moved between them, Ellen turned her head away from Curt to kiss Mary. The women’s lips touched, their mouths open. Curt could hear the wet clicks of their tongues, the long, lazy breaths exhaled through their noses.
Curt wrapped his arms under Ellen’s thighs, lifted her hips slightly from the mattress, and pressed the tip of his hard cock into his wife’s wet cunt. With that, Ellen’s attention was back with Curt. “Oh fuck,” she said. “Oh fuck, Curt, go deeper.” Her hands were reaching for him, brushing against the soft hair on his stomach. He slowly pushed inside until his balls touched the wet lips of her pussy.
Curt groaned with pleasure. He loved how Ellen could take the full length of his cock, which wasn’t monster-sized like the one now strapped on to Dylan, who stood by the edge of the bed at Curt’s side, his hands on his hips, the mammoth silicone dildo practically dangling between his legs, it was so heavy. No, Curt had an average dick, but he never complained or wished for more. He enjoyed his size because he had never caused any of his lovers, male or female, any consternation, and so “first times” were never too awkward or too uncomfortable. Curt was proud that, with relative ease, his cock could fit in any hole.
“I love watching that cock go to work,” Dylan said, which made Ellen smile up at Curt. “Look at how wet your dick is. Her pussy must feel amazing.”
Mary pulled Dylan onto the bed by his dildo. “Feel this pussy,” she said, bringing Dylan’s hand between her legs. Curt watched Dylan’s reaction: his face scrunched up like he was disappointed, but Curt knew it meant the opposite.
Curt started fucking Ellen a little harder. He rubbed her breasts, gentler than Mary had, and ran little circles over her nipples with his thumbs. Ellen cooed, her eyes half-closed, but still on Curt, and began thrusting her hips up to meet him. Curt hoped she was as close as he was.
Dylan had joined everyone on the bed—the men now knelt side by side—and managed to slip the massive dildo into Mary’s pussy. Curt noticed how wide Dylan was stretching her with that thing, pushing slowly inside, an open-mouthed smile as he watched Mary effortlessl
y suck in the length of that big, black cock. As far as Curt was concerned, Mary loved it, was practically losing her mind on the mattress next to Ellen. Mary’s legs were spread wide as she clawed at her own breasts, teeth clenched and eyes squeezed closed, and she made those guttural grunts Curt loved so much. They sounded both enraptured and agonized, and it turned Curt on, thinking that Mary might like that much pain in her pussy, as Dylan started thrusting that beast inside her.
Turned out, Ellen liked that, too, her moaning low and consistent. Curt picked up his pace, enjoying the look of calm on Ellen’s face as she watched Mary’s body undulate bedside her in that deliciously frenzied state.
That’s when Curt felt Dylan’s presence, his hand on his ass, and, finally, his wet finger pressing on his asshole. Curt did his best to accommodate Dylan, spreading his legs just a little wider, while staying focused on not interrupting his rhythm, Ellen and her orgasm clearly his priorities. Curt noticed that Dylan was holding perfectly still as Mary moved her body against the dildo, taking her pleasure with every wild thrust, her groaning only growing louder.
When Dylan slipped his finger inside his asshole, Curt released a breathy moan and felt Ellen’s cunt spasm around his cock in response. It was a scene Curt wished he could capture forever: Mary fucking herself against Dylan’s strap on, taking all of that massive cock now, her pussy juice covering its length; Dylan fucking Curt’s ass with not one but two fingers, his cock stirring beneath his dildo, showing signs of life again; Ellen finally coming in a giant wave of thrusts and wails as soon as Dylan leaned in and grabbed Curt by his chin and pressed their lips together, Dylan’s tongue soon meshing with Curt’s. Curt had never felt so lit up, so held in that place of pure pleasure, the one you’re in just before you erupt, the shuddering release moving from genitals, to chest, to knees, to scalp, to toes. Mary’s orgasm soon followed, and Curt wondered, with the headboard knocking the wall the way it was, if the picture frames holding her and Dylan’s wedding photos would fall from the adjoining wall.
Now, Curt, he was still in that place—happy birthday to me, he thought—and enjoyed thrusting forward into Ellen’s hot, wet pussy, still clenching him, and then rocking his hips back onto Dylan’s fingers holding firm in his ass. Who wouldn’t like this? Pleasure on both ends, pleasure everywhere. At first, he thanked—he praised—the chocolates, but then decided to give credit where credit was due: to his wife, to his best friends. It wasn’t until Mary sat up, her face relaxed and nipples still hard, her breath ragged as she watched her husband fuck Curt and Curt fuck his wife, and it wasn’t until Dylan pulled his fingers straight from Curt’s asshole and then gave his butt cheeks a good, hard slap, that Curt pulled his cock out of Ellen’s pussy, heard Ellen’s softly chanted encouragement of “yeah, baby,” and blew his load all over his wife, from her tits to her stomach, without even needing to hold his cock.
“You magnificent bastard,” Dylan said as Curt’s thighs grew shaky, exhausted from their work. “You magnificent bastard.”
Curt collapsed to the bed next to Ellen, his wife closest to Dylan and Mary, with Mary exploring Dylan’s body again, rubbing his thighs while she kissed his growing cock beneath that dildo. Soon, Dylan held the massive dildo flat against his stomach so that Mary could take as much of him as she wanted into her mouth.
Curt spooned Ellen, wrapping and arm around her.
“Curt,” Ellen said, “I need a tissue. Or some tissues.”
“Oh, right,” Curt said, rolling back on the bed to get to his feet, noticing then his come in the hair on his forearm. The tissue box was on Mary’s chest of drawers. He grabbed one, then changed his mind, grabbing three more.
Ellen reclined on her elbows while Curt dabbed and wiped his come from her body. “Good boy,” she said. “You’re a good birthday boy.”
Curt smiled, dropping the balled-up tissues to the floor and taking his spot next to his wife again. He pulled her down to the mattress, down into his arms.
Chocolate Covered
F. Leonora Solomon
Lotte had started her temp assignment at the Acme Confection Company to replace a temp who had left to pursue acting. Acme had a tendency to work with attractive, creative types and provide them with flexible assignments. Maybe that explained the detachment with which some of the employees treated her. She didn’t mind so much—it allowed her to work on her freelance writing while she was there.
She had had a cushy writing job at Candy magazine, but they had recently relegated her to a freelancer and the pay was no longer enough for her to live on. When her friend Sherilyn told her about her temp agency, hoping they would end up working together, Lotte was all for it.
Dressed in a red velvet bow skirt and crisp white blouse that showed off her curves dangerously, she went in for the interview. It had gone well, and they had work for her that day. She was amused at the thought of working at a candy company, while still writing for Candy.
Her assignment was to be the receptionist and administrative assistant to Rupert Back, an Acme executive whose assistant had left. Lotte had no questions about why. Even though he was stunningly good-looking, he was demanding and unrelenting. He called her into his office on her second day to complain that she had not watered his plants—which he had not asked her to do.
“A good admin should be intuitive. I should not even have to tell you what I need. You should just know,” he said, holding his fingers to his temples. He had particularly lovely hands, she had noted, as she followed the pattern of his veins. She couldn’t help noticing that he was not wearing a ring.
Lotte had pressed the edges of her sugar-plum–colored nails inside her palms and silently nodded, because she did not know what to say now that he expected her to be clairvoyant.
Other than that, she liked the flexibility of the job, and that it was a candy company. There were mandatory samples of candy at her desk for the visitors. She was given a key to the appropriately named goodie closet, so that she could replenish the candy supply that ran low all day long. Acme was very proactive about giving out samples—except of their new notoriously sexy line of chocolates that was reported to have aphrodisiacal effects. Employees were strictly forbidden to eat that chocolate during working hours; however, they were allowed to take a box home.
Her box was still unopened.
Lotte got up now, caressing the silver key necklace encrusted with diamonds that dangled about her neck, and walked to the goodie closet to pull out a box of cookie dough bonbons. She popped one in her mouth immediately—it was almost lunchtime, and she was ravenous.
She cradled it with her lips to slowly suck the thick, dark chocolate covering, before letting it enter completely in her mouth.
It was right then that Rupert walked into the reception area, and stared at her mouth. Lotte stopped sucking the bonbon, licked the melted chocolate off her lips, and hurriedly chomped down on it to swallow.
His eyes lingered on her mouth, and then he proceeded to berate her about something she had not psychically known.
“The next time you get coffee for me, and I say black, I mean black. Nothing. All this extra stuff you gave me was a waste…”
He dropped all of the sweeteners she had gotten for him on her desk, and even with the leftover taste of cookie dough she tasted bitterness. She had gotten all the sweeteners, because he had said he wanted it black but had not indicated if he wanted it sweetened. She had gotten raw and actual sugar, artificial sweeteners, honey, and agave syrup, which were now all in a pile before her. If she had not caught a glimpse of her coffee cup on the desk—that he had treated her to—she would have burst into tears.
“I am sorry.” She looked down at a packet of agave syrup.
“What did you say? It sounds like your mouth is full…”
Lotte looked up at him, swallowed.
“I am sorry,” she enunciated, she hoped clearly enough for him this time.
“Okay,” he said, and stalked off.
Sherilyn was standing behi
nd him, slack-jawed. Lotte didn’t have to wonder how much her friend had overheard when she saw the way Sherilyn’s burnt umber lips twisted.
“Are you okay?”
Lotte nodded, grabbing her bag. “Let’s go to lunch! I am dressed in chocolate, like you asked me to!”
Lotte’s bag and velvet skirt were chocolate brown, and her top was the color of chocolate nougat that would be covered with caramel inside a chocolate covered bar.
She did not want to talk about Rupert. It was odd—he was abrupt and tightly wound, but he did treat her to coffee every time he sent her to buy his. He asked her to do a lot of work after hours, but he bought dinner and ordered her a car home. Yet every time she was not perfect, he verbally attacked her and almost made her cry.
And she was embarrassed that he saw her with the cookie dough bonbon. The way she savored it. She was afraid he would start to see her like the other men in the office—George Moore in particular, who constantly circled her desk like a pesky flying insect. Other male coworkers told her that she looked more delicious than Acme chocolates. Since they felt she was dispensable as a temp, some of them came onto her hard and with little innovation.
But Rupert… Secretly, she would not have minded if he paid attention to her. The fact that he just stared at her lips made her feel sexless. She usually felt confident and attractive in the impression she created—she was sure, for example, that’s how she got this job. Not that she used her looks all the time, but she could usually rely on them when she needed to.
Not with Rupert…
No, she did not want to talk about him with Sherilyn or anyone.
“I should have chocolate-covered lips like you,” she said to change the subject.
Sherilyn smiled. “Well, when you come to a chocolate-making company, honey, you have to look as good as the chocolates!” Sherilyn swung her hips and pursed her lips as if for a kiss, taking her lipstick out of her purse—and indeed it was called “chocolate covered.”